Peggy Parsons a Hampton Freshman Part 19

"I haven't much for to-morrow," said Peggy quickly. "I know you have several recitations, Lilian,-we'll see that she is taken care of every minute from the time she arrives until she leaves us, weeping."

Peggy's enthusiasm was beginning to carry her away.

"Let's go and plan out the hours," she said to the rest of the group-"just like those schedules they publish in the papers of the way certain great people-and criminals-spend their days: thus, 9 a. m., has breakfast on tray; 10 a. m., sees dressmakers and milliners; 11 a. m., rides in automobile, under guard--"

Lilian was laughing, all her doubts vanished.

Even Myra entered into the plans with spirit.

And never had a celebrity been met by a more enthusiastic crowd than was gathered at the Hampton station to meet the frail and fluttering little woman who stepped down from the 9:10.

Her eyes, shy and yet full of antic.i.p.ation, were searching for Lilian, who fairly flew down the platform, the happy bevy of girls keeping close behind.

After Lilian had kissed her mother, each girl, as her name was spoken, wrung her hand with such goodwill and welcome that poor little Mrs.

Moore realized that she would probably have rheumatism in her fingers for days, as a result. But her worn cheeks flushed with pleasure.

Whose would not, at such a reception when she had expected to be merely a spectator during her single day's stay?

She was borne first to Lilian's room.

Entering Ambler House, her eyes glowed, and she turned her head to look after a merry group that came running down the steps, their books under their arms. Through the great hall, the floor shining and smooth, with handsome rugs to give color here and there-and up the broad stairs the little procession wended its way.

And Lilian could hardly restrain a cry of surprise as she and her mother, followed by the faithful escort, stepped inside her room.

On the dresser was an adorable bunch of violets with inviting purple pins beside it.

"Some one has sent you flowers?" cried little Mrs. Moore, noticing these, even before she took note of the dainty green and white curtains, and the green denim couch cover, that Peggy and Katherine had been inspired to supply.

"No, they didn't," cried Peggy from the doorway. "They didn't send _her_ the flowers,-look on the card!"

And when Mrs. Moore picked up the card that lay beside the pins, she read aloud, "For Mrs. Moore; welcome to Hampton, from one of Lilian's friends, Myra Whitewell."

If you could have seen the look of pleasure with which the little woman lifted those fragrant flowers, and with shaking fingers fastened them to her girdle! Oh, precious first impression of college! How it crept into her heart with the fragrance of those violets-quite the nicest thing that had ever come to her in her care-worn, workaday life!

Lilian's own face was suffused.

That Myra, of all people, should have been so dear and thoughtful! And, a moment since Lilian had been harboring a rather bitter and unkind thought against the black-haired freshman.

For Myra was the only one of the Ambler House "crowd" who had not been at the station to meet her mother. Lilian felt hurt. But now, she remembered Myra's chemistry laboratory, that was in full session at this moment-and to her, also, a new feeling came with the odor of those violets.

She thought, with quick grat.i.tude, that nothing she could ever do for Myra would be too much now to repay her for that glad and surprised light in her mother's eyes.

"And now, Mrs. Moore, you're going to be handed from one to another of us, hour by hour," laughingly explained Peggy. "Your daughter has some cla.s.ses that she really feels she _must_ attend. Ordinary cla.s.ses we could all cut with pleasure, but Lilian's this morning happen to include math, and Lilian is-well, she doesn't know a triangle from a piece of fudge, Mrs. Moore--"

She broke off, giggling, and fled down the corridor to escape Lilian, who pursued with pretended rage, at her daring thus to lay bare her mathematical shortcomings to her trusting mother.

"So," Katherine took up the story of the adventures that were to form Mrs. Moore's great day, "you are to walk with me, please,-if you will, down Elm street and down West street a bit, and Green street, and then you will have seen all the part of town that belongs to college life that is outside Campus-invitation houses, undesirables and all. Then at eleven I shall turn you over to Peggy and Hazel Pilcher, at the campus gate, and they will show you through the new library and chapel and the Art building annex. That's as far into the future as you are allowed to peep."

"It sounds very alluring," murmured Mrs. Moore, whose eyes were still bulging, from the sight of her staid and quiet Lilian pursuing and pounding the fair-haired Peggy.

The company of the girls was more to her than the sightseeing itself, and she found herself swept along by the gay hilarity of whoever happened to be her escort. She forgot that her hair was as grey as theirs was black or golden; she forgot that she had believed her time for gaiety was over.

In the big library she paused, hushed, before the sight of many graceful figures bending in silent absorption over the volumes that lay in their laps or before them on the ma.s.sive tables. She could not guess, in her awe of such an intellectual atmosphere, that fully a third of these diligent readers were bowed over Arnold Bennett and Gilbert Parker, instead of the volumes of deep learning she fancied.

"I wonder if the matron will let me ask Mother to the House to lunch,"

puzzled Lilian, a little later, when she met them, after the tour of the campus was complete. "I haven't had time to ask her and there may not be a place."

"There will be lots of places, but your mother and we won't be there to fill them," said Peggy quickly. "Gloria has invited us down to Boyd's for a real party."

"Beef steak and French fried potatoes-and peas?" cried Hazel. "A real one?"

"That's just it," said Peggy, slightly disappointed that her friend had been so quick to guess. "How did you know? I was the only one with Gloria when she telephoned the order."

"How did I know!" scoffed Hazel, "as if anybody that knew what was best would dream of ordering anything else at Boyd's."

Boyd's was the popular restaurant, where the girls trooped in to luncheon whenever the allowance from home seemed to justify such a luxury, where they sat on Sat.u.r.day evenings, their white shoulders gleaming above the white silk, green chiffon and blue crepe de Chine of their very best dresses.

"Are we really-invited by-Gloria?" questioned Lilian, halting before the luminous name of the freshman president. "Isn't that wonderful of her to give a party for Mother!"

Gloria, adorable in white furs, met them at the doorway of Boyd's, and greeted Mrs. Moore with her own delightful impulsiveness.

"I'm so glad to know you, Mrs. Moore," she said with that pretty earnestness for which Gloria was famed throughout the freshman cla.s.s.

"It was awfully good of the girls to let me have you for a luncheon party. You know, mothers are scarce around these parts, and if we can't have our own, we lie awake nights planning the best way to ensnare somebody else's, whenever one comes visiting. So please excuse us if we act as if you belonged to us all instead of just to Lilian."

And Mrs. Moore looked straight into the clear-blue eyes of the tall red-haired idol of the freshmen, and said she was only too glad to be adopted by any and all of her daughter's friends.

Something went grey and blank in Gloria's wonderful eyes before her searching gaze, and the lashes swept down. The tall, graceful figure drew itself more erect, as if she were on guard in some way. And Mrs.

Moore dropped the warm hand she had been holding, with a sigh.

The beautiful hostess led the way upstairs into the dining room and was shown to a long table that had been reserved for her.

With much throwing aside of velvet coats and furs, the friends seated themselves around the guest of honor and leaned forward, their elbows quite frankly on the table.

Every girl was laughing and talking, with the single exception of Gloria herself. As the little luncheon progressed, with the whole table in a happy uproar, Gloria's abstraction became more and more noticeable.

Celebrities are ent.i.tled to their moods. So no one spoke of Gloria's for some time.

Then Peggy leaned over and whispered, "Come back to us, won't you?"

And Gloria's face was swept with sudden color.

She turned startled eyes on Peggy's laughing face. Then she shook her shoulders as if she might free herself from some unpleasant thought.

"I-wouldn't be anywhere else-for a farm," she said.

"Oh, well," murmured Peggy to herself, "it wasn't anything but my imagination. What could Gloria possibly have to bother her? Maybe she didn't have her history or her Greek to-day. She's just the one to mind it a lot, if she didn't always excel in the cla.s.sroom."

After the wonderful ice-cream and the dear little French pastries had been consumed, with much delight by the girls and with wistful enjoyment on the part of Mrs. Moore, the check was laid by Gloria's plate, with the deferential air the waitresses always used to a very good customer.