Molly Brown's Freshman Days Part 27

But they were doomed to another shock that night.

Just as Molly opened the door she came face to face with Miss Steel standing outside in the hall.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Molly politely, feeling thankful she had put on her nightgown, "I thought I heard a noise outside."

"You seem to be sitting up very late to-night, Miss Brown," said Miss Steel, looking at her coldly. "I was told to enforce the ten o'clock rule in Mrs. Markham's absence, and I must ask you to get to bed at once, unless you wish to be reported."

"I'm sorry," said Molly.

The woman seemed unnecessarily stern, she thought, because, after all, this was not a boarding school, but a college. However, she went back, and closed and bolted the door. In her heart she felt a contempt for any one who would creep about and listen at people's doors. Mrs. Markham would have been incapable of it.

Just then there came another pebble against the window.

Judy crept to the window this time.

"Wait, Margaret," she called. "Miss Steel is about."

There was perfect stillness for several long black minutes. The three girls sat in a row on the floor listening with strained ears and to Judy at least the adventure was not without its enjoyment. At last they felt that it might be safe to act. Taking off their shoes they moved noiselessly to the window and looked down. There stood the courageous Margaret in full view on the roof of the piazza. She had actually shinned up one of the pillars, which was not such a difficult feat as it might seem, as the railing around the piazza had placed her within reach of the wooden grillwork and swinging onto that she had drawn herself up to the roof. She had skinned her wrist and stumped one of her stockinged toes, having removed her shoes and hidden them under the house, but she appeared now the very figure of courage and action, waiting for the next move. The three girls stood looking down at her in a state of fearful uncertainty as to what should be done next, and as if this were not exciting enough, three light telegraphic taps were heard on the door.

"That's not Miss Steel," whispered Judy.

"Who is it," she called softly through the keyhole.

"Jessie," came the answer.

Instantly the door was opened and Jessie crept in.

"Miss Steel is up," she whispered. "I saw her on the landing below just now. Be careful. I am scared to death because Margaret hasn't come back."

For an answer, they led her to the window and pointed to the shadowy figure of her roommate on the piazza roof.

Because Molly had conceived a dislike and distrust for Miss Steel, she made up her mind to outwit her and save her friend. She reflected that if Margaret tried any of the girls on the second floor whose windows opened on the roof, she might get in but she would still have the third flight to make and as the stairs creaked at every step, it would be a difficult matter. Fortunately Miss Steel's room was on the other side of the hall.

"I have a scheme," she whispered at last. "Now, don't any one move. I can manage it without making a sound."

There was a ball of twine on the mantelpiece. Thank heavens for that.

She tied one end to the back of a cane chair, which she let slowly out of the window. Then, snipping off the end of the cord, she gave it to Nance to hold. Another chair, which was fortunately smaller, she let down in the same way and finally a stool. Margaret placed one on top of the other, mounted the precarious and toppling pyramid, and with the strength of arm and wrist which showed her gymnasium training, pulled herself to the window sill and was in the room.

"Be quiet," they whispered. "Miss Steel is about."

The four girls lay down on the couches and waited a long time. Judy really fell asleep in the interval before they dared risk pulling back the chairs. It was, in fact, a risky business, and had to be done cautiously and carefully to keep them from b.u.mping against the walls of the house. At last, however, the whole thing was accomplished.

Margaret explained that she had gone over to one of the other houses to return the clothes she had borrowed and had joined another Thanksgiving party and stayed longer than she had intended. They also had been held up by the matron, and had been obliged to put out the lights and hide everything under the bed. She had escaped from the house by a miracle without being found out, and had trusted to luck and her friends for getting into Queen's un.o.bserved.

And now, at last, the adventure was almost over. After another interminable wait, Judy and Margaret and Jessie crept off to their rooms.

Judy's door was still ajar when she saw a flash of light on the stairs, which heralded the approach of Miss Steel, still fully clothed, and walking noiselessly as usual. Judy closed her door and locked it softly.

"Only a spy would wear felt slippers," she said to herself scornfully.

Then she laughed. "It was rather good fun to be sure, but would it have mattered so much, after all, if Margaret had boldly come in at the front door and explained?"

They would never have gone to all that trouble to deceive nice Mrs.

Markham, her thoughts continued as she removed her manly attire, but Miss Steel was different.

As for Molly, her thoughts were about the same as Judy's.

"A lady doesn't creep," she was thinking, as she thankfully crawled into bed; "a lady doesn't listen at doors or wear soundless slippers in order to walk like a cat. No, Miss Steel is decidedly not a lady."

And when Molly came to this decision about a person, she avoided them carefully ever afterward. Her definition of a "lady" was about the same as a man's definition of a "gentleman." It had nothing whatever to do with birth or education.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE FOOTBALL GAME

During those fast flying weeks which tread on one another's heels so rapidly between Thanksgiving and Christmas, came one of the most important events of the season.

It was announced on the bulletin board as the "Harboard-Snail Football Game," and was, in fact, a grand burlesque on a game played not long before between two university teams.

Quite half of the Wellington students took part in the affair and those who were not actively engaged were placed in the cheer sections to yell themselves hoa.r.s.e. There were a dozen doctors, an ambulance, stretcher bearers, trained nurses and the two teams in proper football attire.

Everybody in college turned out one Sat.u.r.day afternoon to witness this elaborate parody. A coach drove over from Exmoor fairly alive with students, and the fields outside the Wellington athletic grounds were black with people.

Judy was a member of the corps of physicians who were all dressed alike in frock coats reaching well below the knees, gray trousers and silk hats. They had imposing mustaches, carried bags of instruments and were the most ludicrous of all the actors that day.

But it was the stretcher bearers who seemed to excite the greatest merriment in the grand parade which took place before the game began.

They were dressed something like "Slivers," the famous clown, in full white pantaloons and long white coats cut in at the waist with wide skirts. The members of the cheering sections which headed the grand column were dressed in every sort of absurd burlesque of a college boy's clothes that could be devised.

"How they ever collected all those ridiculous costumes is a marvel to me," exclaimed President Walker to Dr. McLean, whose face had turned an apoplectic purple from laughter and who occasionally let out a roar of joy that could be heard all the way across the field.

Following the cheering sections in the parade were the two teams, hardly recognizable at all as human beings. Their wigs of tousled hair stood out all over their heads like the petals of enormous chrysanthemums.

Most of them wore nose guards or their faces were made up in a savage and barbaric fashion. In their wadded football suits, stuffed out of all human recognition, they resembled trussed fowls. In the vanguard of this strange and ludicrous procession stalked a gigantic figure of Liberty.

She was about fifteen feet high, and her draperies reached to the ground. Her long red hair blew in the breezes and she carried a Wellington banner, which she majestically waved over the heads of the mult.i.tude. By her side ran a dwarf. They were the mascots of the two sides.

"Why, if that isn't our little friend, Miss Molly Brown," exclaimed Dr. McLean, pointing to Liberty. "She's a bonnie la.s.s and a sweet one.

Think now, of her being able to walk on those sticks without losing her balance. It's a verra great achievement, I'm thinking, for a giddy-headed young woman. For they're all giddy-headed at seventeen or thereabouts."

It was indeed Molly, the only girl in all Wellington who could walk on stilts. The seniors had advertised in _The Commune_ for a first-cla.s.s "stiltswoman," and Molly had promptly offered her services. Jessie had been selected as the dwarf.

"I hope the child won't fall and break her neck," said Mrs. McLean on the other side of the doctor. "It's verra dangerous. Suppose she should become suddenly faint----"

"Don't suppose anything of the sort, mither. You've no grounds for thinkin' the la.s.s will tumble. She seems to be at home in the air."

Professor Green, just beyond Mrs. McLean, frowned, and put his hands in his pockets. He wondered if Dr. McLean had forgotten that he had been sent for just three weeks before when Molly had fainted in the gymnasium, and the Professor breathed a sigh of relief when Liberty presently descended to the earth and the game began.

It was one of the bloodiest and roughest games in the history of football. The ambulance bell rang constantly. Every time a victim fell, the cheering section on the other side set up a wild yell. Doctors and nurses were scattered all about the edges of the field attending to the wounded and the stretchers were busy every minute. As fast as one man tumbled another jumped into his place, and at last when there came a touchdown the players seemed to have fallen on top of each other in a mad squirming ma.s.s.