Peggy Parsons a Hampton Freshman Part 21

"And she's the best dressed--"

"Of course, my notions of dress are old fashioned, but even I could see that."

"And she's rich--"

"Well, I can't help it, Peggy; I saw into that girl's heart to-day-a mother can-even though I'm not her mother-and she's not happy."

"Mother!" cried Lilian. "Why, Gloria is simply bubbling with happiness.

Don't you think anybody would be perfectly _radiant_ who had all she has?"

"I wonder if you couldn't find it out, Lilian, and see if you couldn't help her in some way-she--"

Peggy brushed away the thought of the incongruity of Lilian Moore, very much one of the ma.s.ses in Hampton, acting as confidante and comforter to the lofty Gloria, whose position set her up to twinkle before the worshipful freshmen, star fashion.

"I don't think anything is really bothering Gloria," she said gently, "and there'd be no way for any of us to find out what it was if there were."

And she changed the subject to the entertainment before them.

Ambler House had taken the first row in the balcony, for from this vantage point the girls, their bare arms leaning on the polished rail, could stare down and pick out their faculty friends and their celebrity acquaintances, and, also, they got a better view of the stage, and could hear the music to better advantage than from any other seats.

One of the girls of the house was given an orchestra ticket and was thus bought off from her position in the theater's "rubber row," as their chosen place was most inelegantly called.

"Now, Mrs. Moore, I'll just take your coat and then you lean over and look at anybody you like. n.o.body minds being stared at. Everybody's used to it, and if a girl downstairs is wearing an especially good-looking dress, she'll stand up and turn around and gaze about the audience for a moment so that we can be sure to get its effect. That's what _always_ happens," Peggy explained blithely to their guest.

Mrs. Moore hadn't been to the theater often, anywhere. So that, in itself, was a pleasure. But to sit in a theater crowded with girls, all in evening dress as they would have gone to a ball, their throats and arms white in the glare of the electric lights, was a never-to-be-forgotten experience.

The play was a dashing affair, all beauty and melody, and the irrepressible audience hummed the catchy airs between acts.

Also there was the customary promenade during the intermission.

The girls from the balcony went downstairs, and, threading their way through the crowded aisles in which the girls were chatting, found the seat of some friend and leaned gracefully near her for a few moments.

And the talk usually ambled along something like this:

"My dear! Aren't you crazy about it? Honestly I never heard anything like that chorus-hm, hm, hm, hm,--"

"Those costumes! My dear, did you ever see anything so fragile?

Perfectly hectic! But the colors-I'd give anything to have a winter suit made on that grey and silver _motif_--"

"Her voice!"

"His eyes!"

"That step they did was perfectly beautiful-don't you think we could work it out by ourselves? Watch carefully if they bring it in again; I can follow it all up to that little kick she does and the half turn in the air--"

"What a perfectly stunning gown! Why in the world didn't you save it for Junior Prom? Well, you may have others, but I'm sure I never saw you in anything more becoming-it's a _darling_, Dotty; look at Helen's _cute_ gown!"

"They say this made an awful hit in New York-do you think it's true that May Hastings is really going on the stage when she graduates? Why, I should think her people would feel terribly. But it would be a thrilling life, wouldn't it?"

With a final burst of music, the entire company crowded the stage in one of those hurrahing finales, and the girls from Ambler House gathered up their wraps and made all haste for the stairs.

Outside Peggy summoned a taxi, and Mrs. Moore, Lilian, Katherine and herself climbed in.

"The station in time for the 11:10!" she called to the chauffeur, and in an instant Mrs. Moore was being whisked away from her one bright day of college.

For she had not felt like incurring the extra expense of staying longer, and Peggy and Katherine had been unable to think of a tactful means of arranging that part of it themselves. So they had simply crowded all they could for her into one day so that she would have a typical picture of the rush of college life to take back to her small town with her.

"Well," said Peggy, holding up her face to be kissed just as the train came in, "how did you like college? What impression did it make on you?"

And little faded Mrs. Moore clasped her hands before her while her eyes shone mistily.

"Why, I think"-her voice came huskily mingled with the throb of the engine-"it is better than any of my dreams, and you dear girls have been the best of all." And then she kissed Peggy.

CHAPTER XI

A SERIOUS DISCUSSION

"Just one college, And that's the college we sing to: Just one college, And that's the college for us!"

The egotistical song of Hampton came out to Peggy from the door of Myra's room when she stopped before it on her way home from cla.s.s.

A comfortable fudge-eating group looked up from the Morris chair and the couch as she entered.

"'Lo, Peggy," said Gertie Van Gorder, interrupting the song and waving with a piece of fudge towards an unoccupied chair. "Sit down, Peg."

"Can't," said Peggy. "Is Katherine here?"

"Nope," said Katherine's voice from behind a pillow. "I'm up at gym having a-c-c-brr-r-" the pillow was made to shiver-"a cold shower!"

"Come on home, Kat, you wretch," laughed Peggy; "I've had a present from Mr. Huntington."

"_Who_," demanded Gertie, impertinently, "is Mr. Huntington?-and why didn't you have him to our house dance?"

Peggy and Katherine laughed.

"He's an old man, silly,-and one of my very best friends; in fact, he sent me to college, and his grandson is Jim that you all met, because I _did_ have him to the house dance."

"Well, then," pursued Gertie still inquisitive, "what was his present?"

"Something good?" inquired Myra, sliding to the edge of her seat.

"If it is, we're all coming," smiled Gertie graciously.

"Well," Peggy admitted, "it's-salted almonds. Five pounds of them-I suppose---"

But she was the last one in the room. The group had fled with a rushing sound down the hall and were already murmuring their appreciation in Suite 22.

"Save _some_ for me," mocked Peggy, when she overtook them.