Molly Brown's Freshman Days Part 22

"Motives for crime," she chuckled to herself. "I suppose I'm committing a small crime for disobeying the ten-o'clock rule, and my motive is to hand in a theme on time to-morrow."

The next morning when Judy read over her night's work, she enjoyed it very much. "It's really quite interesting," she said to herself. "I really don't see how I ever did it."

She delivered the essay at Miss Pomeroy's office and felt vastly proud when she laid it on the table near the desk. Her own cleverness told her that she had done a good thing.

"I don't believe Wordsworth ever enjoyed his own works more than I do mine," she observed, as she strolled across the campus. "And because I've been _bon enfant_, I shall now take a rest and go forth in search of amus.e.m.e.nt." She turned her face toward the village, where a kind of Oriental bazaar was being held by some Syrians. It would be fun, she thought, to look over their bangles and slippers and bead necklaces.

In the meantime, Miss Pomeroy was engaged in reading over Judy's theme, which, having been handed in last, had come to her notice first. Such is the luck of the procrastinator.

She smiled when she saw the t.i.tle, but the theme interested her greatly, and presently she tucked it into her long reticule, familiar to every Wellington girl, and hastened over to the President's house.

"Emma," she said (the two women were old college mates, and were Emma and Louise in private), "I think this might interest you. It's a theme by one of my freshman girls. A strange subject for a girl of seventeen, but she's quite a remarkable person, if she would only apply herself.

Somehow, it seems, whether consciously or unconsciously, to bear on what has been occupying us all so much since last Friday."

The President put on her gla.s.ses and began to read Judy's theme. Every now and then she gave a low, amused chuckle.

"The child writes like Marie Corelli," she exclaimed, laughing. "And yet it is clever and it does suggest----" she paused and frowned. "I wonder if she could and doesn't dare tell?" she added slowly.

"I wonder," echoed Miss Pomeroy.

"Is she one of the Queen's Cottage girls? They appear to be rather a remarkable lot this year."

"Some of them are very bright," said Miss Pomeroy.

"Louise," said the President suddenly, "Frances Andrews is one of the girls at that house, is she not?"

"Yes," nodded the other, with a queer look on her face.

"She's clever," said the President. "She's deep, Emma. It is impossible to make any definite statement about her. One must go very slowly in these things. But after what happened last year, you know----"

She paused. Even with her most intimate friend she disliked to discuss certain secrets of the inst.i.tution openly.

"Yes," said Miss Pomeroy, "she is either very deep or entirely innocent."

"Some one is guilty," sighed the President. "I do wish I knew who it was."

Judy's theme not only received especial mention by Miss Pomeroy, but it was read aloud to the entire cla.s.s and was later published in the college paper, _The Commune_, to Judy's everlasting joy and glory. She was congratulated about it on all sides and her heart was swollen with pride.

"I think I'll take to writing in dead earnest," she said to Molly, "because I have the happy faculty of writing on subjects I don't know anything about, and no one knows the difference."

"I wish you'd take to doing anything in dead earnest," Molly replied, giving her friend a little impatient shake.

CHAPTER XV.

PLANNING AND WISHING.

"Mrs. Anna Oldham, the famous suffragette, will speak in the gymnasium on Sat.u.r.day afternoon, at four o'clock, on 'Woman's Suffrage.' All those interested in this subject are invited to be present."

Molly and Judy, with a crowd of friends, on the way from one cla.s.sroom to another one busy Friday had paused in front of the bulletin board in the main corridor.

"Mrs. Anna Oldham?" they repeated, trying to remember where they had heard the name before.

"Why, Judy," whispered Molly, "that must be Nance's mother. Do you--do you suppose Nance knows?"

"If she does, she has never mentioned it. You know she never tells anything. She's a perfect clam. But this, somehow, is different."

Both girls thought of their own mothers immediately. Surely they would have shouted aloud such news as Nance had.

"Shall we mention it to her, or do you think we'd better wait and let her introduce the subject?" asked Molly.

"Surely she corresponds with her own mother," exclaimed Judy without answering Molly's question.

"Her father writes to her about once a week, I know; but I don't think she hears very often from Mrs. Oldham. You see, her mother's away most of the time lecturing."

"Lecturing--fiddlesticks!" cried Judy indignantly. "What kind of a mother is she, I'd like to know? I'll bet you anything Nance doesn't know at all she's going to be here. I think we ought to tell her, Molly."

"Poor Nance," answered Molly. "I don't know which would mortify her most: to know or not to know. Suppose we find out in some tactful roundabout way whether she knows, and then I'll offer to go in with you Sat.u.r.day night and give her mother my bed."

Judy cordially consented to this arrangement, having a three-quarter bed in her small room, although secretly she was not fond of sharing it and preferred both her bed and her room to herself.

It was not until much later in the day that they saw Nance, who appeared to be radiantly and buoyantly happy. Her usually quiet face was aglow with a soft light, and as she pa.s.sed her two friends she waved a letter at them gayly.

"You see, she knows and she is delighted," exclaimed Judy. "Just as we would be. Oh, Molly, wait until you see my mother, if you want to meet a thing of beauty and a joy forever. You'd think I was her mother instead of her being mine, she is so little and sweet and dainty."

Molly laughed.

"Isn't she coming up soon? I'd dearly love to meet her."

"I'm afraid not. You know papa is always flying off on trips and mamma goes with him everywhere. I used to, too, before I decided to be educated. It was awfully exciting. We often got ready on a day's notice to go thousands of miles, to San Francisco or Alaska or Mexico, anywhere. Papa is exactly like me, or, rather, I am exactly like him, only he is a hundred times better looking and more fascinating and charming than I can ever hope to be."

"You funny child," exclaimed Molly; "how do you know you are not all those things right now?"

"I know I'm not," sighed Judy. "Papa is brilliant, and not a bit lazy.

He works all the time."

"So would you if you only wanted to. You only choose to be lazy. If I had your mind and opportunities there is no end to what I would do."

Judy looked at her in surprise.

"Why, Molly, do you think I have any mind?" she asked.

"One of the best in the freshman cla.s.s," answered her friend. "But look, here are some letters!"

She paused in the hall of Queen's Cottage to look over a pile of mail which had been brought that afternoon.