The Orchard Secret Part 8

Girls of various sizes, types, and descriptions were hurrying into the building, and their clothes, of all colors, gave a l.u.s.ter otherwise lacking in the dull, sand-colored structure. The freshmen were easily distinguished from the other students by the fact that they were all carrying or scanning yellow cards which told them in what rooms to report for their first cla.s.ses.

Sim was surprised to see Arden and Terry still outside the hall.

"I thought you had to hurry in to cla.s.s," she said, hoping they wouldn't notice her broken nails.

"Wrong number," remarked Terry. "We went in and were told to come back in fifteen minutes, so we came up for air."

"Where were you?" asked Arden, glancing sharply at Sim.

"Oh--just walking around. I think I'm about in time for my cla.s.s. Let's go in."

The three found they were to be separated for the morning session though the first cla.s.s in the afternoon would find them in the same room for English literature.

"And we must try to sit together," called Arden to Sim and Terry as they parted.

Inside the hall all was confusion. Girls were running hither and yon.

Stairways were crowded with students going up or coming down, and all were excited. Doors were suddenly pushed open by uncertain freshmen and again by oversure soph.o.m.ores. The latter, in a spirit of fun, several times sent a poor "frosh" up to the top floor when she should have remained on the first.

Another warning bell rang and, almost at once, the corridors were empty and quiet. Inside their cla.s.srooms the three girls from 513 looked, listened, and answered somewhat in a daze. That first day always remained more or less of a hazy recollection. Something of an organization was arranged, the roll was checked and corrected, names were asked and given, everyone was on edge and nervous, even the instructors. Strange faces, many of them timid, looked on other strange faces, also somewhat timid.

Then came welcome noon, and the rush out of Bordmust and some of the other study buildings to the dining hall was comparable only to the New York subway rush at five o'clock.

The afternoon cla.s.ses were attended by all more pleasantly and with less strain. To their delight, Arden, Sim, and Terry managed to get into the same room and sat near one another.

As they were leaving Bordmust Hall, at the close of the afternoon session, Arden heard someone say:

"Here come our three!"

Toots Everett, Jessica, and Pip were regarding the other trio with sardonic smiles and, as Terry said later, "with murder in their eyes."

"Good afternoon, freshies! How about a little song for my friends, here?"

Jessica was mockingly speaking. "A song befitting your talents. Arden Blake, come here!"

Arden stepped forward, blushing. "I can't sing," she quavered.

"You shall learn. Your friend here, with the red hair, looks like a singer. And while you two sing, Sim Westover shall dance. On with the dance, freshies!"

The trio from 513 looked at one another in dismay, but there was no help for it. Amused seniors and juniors had gathered to see the fun. From the cla.s.smates of Arden and her chums two kinds of advice was forthcoming, the "don't-you-do-it!" and "go-on-be-sports!"

Finally, in a weak and uncertain voice, Arden and Terry, after a moment of embarra.s.sed consultation, sang one verse from their prep-school song; something about "Bring Me Violets for My Hair," while Sim tapped about more like a sparrow than a swan.

At last it was over.

"Not bad," commented Toots.

"I've seen worse," said Pip.

"But not much," was Jessica's opinion.

Then the soph.o.m.ores delivered a rhyming ultimatum. They stood with their heads together and chanted:

"_From yonder orchard, old and green,_ _Where, 'tis said, strange things are seen,_ _You three, upon this fatal day,_ _Must gather apples while ye may._ _At once repair to that dread spot,_ _And in your quest dare pa.s.s it not._ _Then bring, for our symbolic use,_ _Fair apples with but smallest bruise._ _Ten perfect fruits, no less, must we_ _Your mentors have, in time for tea._"

There was a dramatic pause, following this delivery, and then, as though they had rehea.r.s.ed it, as, indeed, they had, the three soph.o.m.ores picked up the books they had deposited on the ground in front of them while singing, and marched away, leaving the trio from 513 the center of an excited and thrilled group.

"What does it all mean?" asked Sim.

"Is it part of the hazing?" asked Terry.

"Must we really go after the apples?" asked Arden in astonishment.

"Yes," said Mary Todd. "It's just part of college life. And you may as well go to the orchard now, while it is still light and bright. I certainly hope I don't have to do that stunt. No orchard in mine."

"Some of us probably will have to gather the apples later," declared Jane Randall. "But a soph, who got a little friendly with me, said that the best apples were at the far side of the orchard. So you girls had better go there at the start, as Toots and her crowd won't accept nubbins, and you don't want to have to make two trips."

"I should say not," murmured Sim. "One is bad enough."

Arden and Terry were still a bit bewildered, even after this well-meant advice, and Sim declared she was "dying from embarra.s.sment."

"I suppose we may as well go. What do you say, girls?" asked Arden.

"Yes, let's! Anything to get away from here!" Sim was regarding the circle of amused girls.

"You take our books to our room, will you?" Terry asked Mary Todd. "We'll let you know later how we make out."

The fated trio started down the southern slope of Bordmust Hall hill toward the picturesque orchard where, even now, though it was not very late, the shadows were lengthening and the sun had lost some of its brightness. They crossed a field, deep with gra.s.s, crawled through the bars of a snake-rail fence, and found themselves beneath the trees.

"I vote we pick up the first apples we can see," voiced Terry.

"Certainly!" agreed Arden.

"Apples are apples," quoth Sim. "Why should we go to the far end to gather fine fruit when windfalls may answer?"

"Why, indeed," a.s.sented Arden. "But still I suppose we had better not pick up these." With her foot she kicked out from amid the fallen leaves some withered, wrinkled, and partly rotted specimens.

"No, they won't do," declared Sim.

"Then let's separate a bit. We can cover more ground that way," suggested Arden. "Whoever first finds some decent apples must give a shout, and we'll gather there." She was quite businesslike.

"All right, Colonel!" laughed Terry. "'You take the highland and I'll take the low,'" she sang softly. "Scatter, my la.s.sies!"

They separated and began the search in the growing dusk.

Apples there were, but such poor things, windfalls and rots, that even the enthusiastic Arden began to feel discouraged. They might, after all, need to go to the far end of the orchard. Still, it was delightful beneath the old, gnarled trees. Their trunks were shaped like dragons, their branches like Chinese letters, and the roots, where they cropped out above the ground, like intertwined serpents grim and black, seeming to writhe in the shifting shadows. A little wind rustled the leaves, swung the hanging fruit, and made the limbs squeak as they rubbed one on the other.

Here and there they wandered, growing more and more apprehensive and nervous as the darkness deepened. There seemed to be something sinister about that orchard, although it was so close to the life and joy of Cedar Ridge College. The taxi-man had surely warned them--but of what? This was no time to think about that.

"Ah!" Sim suddenly exclaimed. "A perfect apple, red and round!" She picked it up from beneath a large gnarled tree. "And there are others,"