The Camp Fire Girls' Larks and Pranks; Or, The House of the Open Door

by Hildegard G. Frey

  CHAPTER XII HINPOHA'S ROMANCE

  An indistinct murmur floated down from the Winnebago room of the OpenDoor Lodge, punctuated by little squeals and exclamations. The firelightshown on four tense faces, and four pairs of eyes were riveted on the twofigures in the center of the group who were engaged in a very singularoccupation. Balanced between two stiffly outstretched and quivering rightforefingers hung a key, and suspended from it by a string was ablack-covered book, supposed to be set apart from all secular uses. In abreathless undertone Hinpoha--for she was the owner of one of theaforesaid fingers--was chanting a passage of scripture designed for awidely different application. A strained hush was followed by anotheroutbreak of exclamations. "Look, it's turning! It began to turn theminute she said, 'Turn, my beloved.' What letter did it turn on, 'Poha?"

  "D," replied Hinpoha, in a solemn whisper.

  "D," repeated the chorus, "what does that stand for?"

  "Daniel," supplied Sahwah promptly.

  "His name's going to be Daniel," chanted the chorus. "Now try for thelast name."

  Again the mystic rite was performed. At "I" the Bible trembled with apremonitory movement. "It's turning!" whispered the chorus in an awedtone. "No, it isn't either; it's still again." After that one tremor thesoothsaying volume remained bafflingly motionless through the recitationof the mysteries which accompanied the letter J. K likewise beganuneventfully. But no sooner had Hinpoha uttered the fateful words, "Turn,my beloved," when with a suddenness that scared them half out of theirwits the key turned sharply in the supporting fingers, twisted itselffree and fell to the floor with an emphatic bang.

  "It's K," cried Hinpoha, covering her face with her hands. "What namesbegin with K?"

  "King," said Gladys.

  "Knight," suggested Katherine.

  "All the noble names," said Nakwisi dreamily.

  "Mrs. Daniel King," said Sahwah experimentally, whereupon Hinpoha hid herface in the bearskin rug.

  "You try it, Katherine," said Gladys. "I'll hold the key with you."

  "Oh, I'm afraid to try it," said Katherine, hanging back and lookinguncomfortable. "It's no use, anyway; nobody'd have me for a gift."

  "It always tells the truth," said the blushing Hinpoha. "You know MissVining, Clara Morrison's old maid aunt? Well, Clara persuaded her to tryit and it wouldn't turn for her at all, and they went through thealphabet three times in succession."

  With a skeptical expression Katherine suffered herself to be placed onthe box covered with an old piece of tapestry displaying a threadbarefigure of the three fates, which was the seat of those engaged in themysteries. "My beloved is mine, and I am his," she recited jerkily,keeping her eyes glued to the key. "He feedeth upon a row of lilies----"

  "It's 'He feedeth upon the lilies,' just 'the lilies'; the 'row' partcomes later," interrupted Gladys in a sharp whisper.

  "He feedeth upon the lilies, just the lilies, the row part----" repeatedKatherine dutifully.

  "No, no; it's all wrong," said Gladys impatiently. "Begin again."

  "My beloved is mine----"

  "Katherine! Oh-h-h-h Katherine! Are you up there?" the voice of Slimsuddenly called from below.

  The girls all started guiltily and fell into confusion. "Sh! Hide theBible, quick!" cried Hinpoha in a sibilant whisper, darting forward andsnatching it from Katherine's hand and concealing it under the bear rug.

  "What are you girls doing up there?" came from below.

  "Oh, nothing," floated down the illuminating reply from above.

  If Nyoda had not been so completely engrossed in her private affairs justat this time she would have noticed the subtle undercurrent which seemedto have caught hold of the toes of the entire feminine half of the seniorclass at Washington High. It was not the Winnebagos only. In fact, theyhad caught it from the others. Every class has its epidemic, be ittonsillitis, friendship link bracelets or Knox hats. This year it wasfortune telling. Where the mystic rite described above originated nobodycould exactly tell, but in less than a week every girl in the class hadbeen initiated into the secret, and was busy discovering what her futureinitials were to be. The performance was always carried on behind lockeddoors or in places otherwise secure from adult eyes, and was ofteninterrupted right at the most exciting point by approaching footsteps,but questions as to how the innocent maids had been improving the shininghour invariably brought out the reply, "Oh, we weren't doing_anything_--much." Missing keys and books of family worship led toembarrassing questions once in a while, but somehow the situation wasalways bridged over and parents and teachers never really did find outwhat the fascinating something was that drew their young friends off intogroups by themselves from which they emerged to day dream instead ofgetting their lessons and to make mysterious references to certaininitials.

  The book and key oracle reigned supreme for several weeks and then gaveplace to the horoscope. For ten cents in stamps a certain seer dwellingin a remote town in Oregon offered to "cast" the principal events, past,present and future, in the lives of all young lady correspondents. It wasnot long before intimate heads were bent over scraps of paper comparinghoroscopes. Hinpoha's was acknowledged by all to be the gem of thecollection.

  "You have a brilliant future before you," it read. "You will have aromantic love affair and will marry your first lover. He is a greatscholar who will afterwards become president. You will meet him when youare very young." Then followed a dozen lines more of brilliant prophecy.The special friends of Hinpoha, who had been allowed to peep at herfortune, Gladys, Sahwah, Katherine, Nakwisi and Medmangi, and one or twoothers, who had fore-gathered ostensibly to rehearse a school song, satback and regarded their fortunate friend with awe. None of their fortuneshad contained anything so dazzling.

  "You're going to be the President's wife!" murmured Sahwah. "You won'tforget us, will you?"

  "Never!" declared Hinpoha magnanimously, stealing a sly glance into themirror.

  "I hope you won't be ashamed of me when I'm married and come calling atthe White House," said Katherine, rather dolefully. "All I drew was afarmer."

  "I only got an automobile manufacturer," echoed Gladys.

  "That's what comes of having red hair," said Sahwah enviously. "Herfortune said he would be drawn to her by her beautiful tresses."

  When Hinpoha was preparing for bed that night she stood fully an hourbefore the mirror and regarded her shining curls. Up until now she hadnever paid much attention to them except when the boys called her redheadand pretended to light matches on her head, and then she wished with allher heart, like the little girl in the song, that she had been "born ablonde." Now for the first time her hair appeared beautiful to her. Shearranged the curls this way and that, piling them on her head and lettingthem fall over her white shoulders. And all night she dreamed of standingup in a carriage and bowing graciously to cheering multitudes andclasping in her arms the forms of her girlhood friends who were among thecrowd.

  The horoscopes had their day and gave way to something still moreexciting, something so secret that at first it could not be mentioned inwords, but was only alluded to by mysterious references.

  "Marjorie King went," said Gladys to Hinpoha, "and she won't tell a thingshe found out, but she says it was the grandest thing."

  "I don't believe it's worth fifty cents," said Sahwah skeptically."Anyhow, I haven't that much to spend."

  "You don't ever dare tell anybody, they say, not a soul," reported Gladyslater. "If you do, the nice things won't happen and the bad ones surelywill."

  "She's the Seventh Daughter of a Seventh Daughter," observed Hinpoha inan awe-stricken tone. "Did you ever hear of anything so wonderful?"

  "Are _you_?" asked Sahwah anxiously, of Hinpoha.

  This last question was entirely unrelated to the preceding statementconcerning the Seventh Daughter of a Seventh Daughter. It was part of thecryptic jargon employed in the discussion of a momentous question.

  "I don't know," answered Hinpoha
uncertainly. "Would you?"

  "Oh, do," begged Gladys, "and then if you find out something nice we'llgo in after you. Oh, I forgot, you can't tell us anything."

  "Would your mother mind if you did?" asked Hinpoha, hesitating on thebrink.

  "She really wouldn't mind, but she'd think it awfully silly," answeredGladys, "so I don't believe I'll tell her."

  "You might find out the whole name," said Sahwah, looking at Hinpoha.

  "And just when it's going to happen," finished Gladys.

  Hinpoha suddenly made up her mind. "I believe I will," she said, lookingat Sahwah.

  Where Hinpoha's thoughts were the next day in school nobody knew, butthey were certainly not on her lessons. She failed signally in everyclass.

  "And what were the initials of the great poet, Longfellow?" cooed MissSnively, in her honeydrip voice.

  The word "initials" penetrated Hinpoha's wandering mind. "D. K.," shemurmured dreamily.

  "Indeed?" purred Miss Snively. "Can it be that I have been misinformed?"But today sarcasm was lost on Hinpoha.

  After school was out a select group, half of which seemed to be hangingback and being coaxed on by the other half, walked ten blocks to anunfamiliar car line and transferred to a cross-town line. There was amuch more direct route to their destination, but that laid them open tothe risk of meeting friends and relatives who might casually inquirewhither they were bound. Just wherein lay the crime in what they weredoing, no one could have told, nor why it should be kept such a darksecret, but singly and collectively they would have died rather thanreveal the nature of the latest epidemic.

  By devious ways they reached the end of their journey and stoodirresolute on the sidewalk before a house which bore a plate on the doorannouncing that that same roof sheltered the object of their desire.

  "Shall we all go in together?" whispered Gladys. There was no need ofwhispering, for no one was within earshot, but with one accord theylowered their voices. They went up the steps and held anotherconsultation. "You ring the bell," said Gladys.

  "No, you ring it," said Hinpoha. Thus encouraged, Hinpoha pushed thebutton, the door swung inward and they passed through. An hour later theystood on the corner again, waiting for the car to take them home.

  "Did she say anything about--about----" inquired Gladys.

  Hinpoha clapped her hand over her mouth and made inarticulate soundsbeneath it, but her eyes were sparkling, as they never sparkled before.

  "Excuse me," gasped Gladys; "I forgot you mustn't tell."

  "Can't you give us a hint?" begged Sahwah, who had gone along for moralsupport.

  Hinpoha shook her head and retained her finger on her lips to stop anyleaks.

  "Well, it couldn't have been any nicer than mine," said Gladys, with anair of satisfaction. "Mine was just splendid. Maybe yourswasn't--favorable?" she added, stricken with a sudden doubt as to thesuperiority of Hinpoha's future.

  "It was, too!" declared Hinpoha. "If you took all the nice things out often fortunes it wouldn't be as nice as mine!"

  Gladys looked unconvinced. "Well, we'll wait a year or two until theybegin to come true, and then we'll see which had the nicer," sheremarked.

  Hinpoha laughed outright. "I don't have to wait a year or two before minecomes true," she announced triumphantly. "It's coming true in the verynear future. I'm going to meet a light-haired young man and he's going toadmire my hair and fall in love with me, so there! Is yours any nicerthan that?"

  "Oh, you told," cried Sahwah. "Now it won't come true."

  Hinpoha stopped in dismay. "Well, Gladys made me," she wailed. "If shehadn't said hers was better----" The car came along then and a truce waspatched up. Such a delicate subject could not be discussed openly in thestreet-car, even to quarrel about it.

  But if Hinpoha spent a bad night mourning because she had broken thespell of her good fortune, the next day sent all doubts flying to thewinds. The week before the bald-headed teacher of the literature classhad occasioned a bad break in the routine of the course byinconsiderately dying of pneumonia in the middle of the term. For severaldays thereafter the grief of the class was tempered by the fact thatthere were no recitations. But on the day after Gladys and Hinpoha, withSahwah and Katherine as chaperones, had visited the Seventh Daughter of aSeventh Daughter, an announcement appeared on the session room blackboardto the effect that literature recitations would be resumed that morning.As they filed into the literature class room they were greeted by thesight of the new teacher standing beside the desk.

  "Boys and girls," said the principal, who was doing the honors, "this isMr. David Knoblock, who will have charge of this class in the future."And he hurried out.

  "David Knoblock!" whispered the wit of the class to his neighbor."Knoblock, No Block, see?" And a titter ran through the class.

  "David Knoblock!" said Katherine to herself. "He looks as though his namemight be Percy Pimpernell."

  "David Knoblock!" repeated Hinpoha to herself, and sat mute before theworkings of fate. David Knoblock. D. K. The Car of Destiny had stoppedbefore her door and from it had alighted the fair-haired stranger!

  Standing before the class in the glory of his yellow hair, pale,sprouting mustache, blue eyes and pink cheeks, Mr. Knoblock seemed tothem a composite of Adonis, Paris and Apollo Belvidere, whose mythicalcharms had been impressed upon them by the late lamented instructor.

  "What has the class been reading, Miss--ah--Miss Katherine?" he inquired,consulting the class roll.

  "Tennyson, Mr. Knoblock," answered Katherine briefly.

  "_Professor_ Knoblock, if you please," he corrected gently. "Ah, yes;Tennyson." And turning the pages of his book with a manicured finger, hefound the place and began to read aloud, glancing up at one or another ofhis girl pupils from time to time. More and more often that glance restedon Hinpoha, for with the sun shining through the window on her hair shewas the most vivid spot of color in the room. Finally he did not take hiseyes away at all, and, looking her straight in the face, he read insentimental tones:

  "Queen of the rosebud garden of girls, Come hither, the dances are done, In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls, Queen, lily and rose, in one; Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls, To the flowers, and be their sun."

  In the blaze of that glance Hinpoha's romantic heart melted like a lumpof wax. The room swam in a rose-colored mist. The great thing that shehad read about in books had happened to her; she was in love! It was notlong before the whole school knew about the affair. Whenever there was asentimental passage in the book Professor Knoblock looked at Hinpoha andat her alone. He often detained her a moment after class to inquire ifthat last paragraph had been entirely clear to her; he thought she hadlooked not quite satisfied with his explanation. As he roomed in the nextstreet to her home he generally met her on the corner in the morning andwalked to school with her. Certain sour-dispositioned damsels in theclass, who had made eyes at the new Lochinvar in vain, made sneeringremarks about a girl who had so few boy friends in the class that she hadto ogle a teacher; others sighed enviously when they looked at herwoman's crown of glory and realized their handicap; the Winnebagosregarded the whole thing as the workings of fate, pure and simple, forwas it not even as the Seventh Daughter of a Seventh Daughter hadpredicted?

  As for Hinpoha herself, she was too transported to care what anyone elsethought about it. She was surrounded by a rarified atmosphere and thevoices of earth troubled her not. Just now she sat blushing deeply andcrushing in her hand a note which had appeared mysteriously between thepages of her _Selections from the Standard English Poets_. It was writtenin Mr. Knoblock's slanting backhand, and read:

  "My Dear Miss Bradford:

  "Never have I seen such glorious hair as yours. I cannot take my eyesfrom it while you are in the room, and it haunts me by night. May I ask agreat favor of you--that you grant me one lock, one small lock, as akeepsake? I fear you will be too modest to make this gift in person, andall I ask is that you slip it into the dictionary on my desk."
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  The signature was a long ornamental K, with a running vine entwined aboutits upright stroke.

  Hinpoha scarcely raised her eyes above the level of her book during thewhole recitation. She sat nervously toying with a long perfect curl thathung down over her shoulder. Toward the close of the recitation periodshe came out of her abstraction and touched the boy in front of her onthe shoulder. "Lend me your penknife," she whispered in answer to hislook of inquiry. The Senior Literature Class occupied the last hour ofthe day, and as Mr. Knoblock had no session room, the passing of theclass left the room empty. On this day Mr. Knoblock left the room withthe class on the stroke of the bell, and the boys and girls, trooping outin a hurry to get home, did not notice that Hinpoha loitered. She glancedaround nervously, satisfied herself that she was unobserved and thendarted toward the dictionary on Mr. Knoblock's desk. Going out of thedoor a minute later she ran violently into Katherine, who had carried outher inkwell instead of her English book, and was coming back to replaceit. Katherine looked at her curiously.

  "Excuse me," said Hinpoha in a flustered tone, "I really didn't see you.I was thinking about something."

  Hinpoha looked at Mr. Knoblock with an air of expectancy when she enteredthe room the next morning, looking for some sign of gratitude for thelock of hair, but he said, "Good morning, Miss Bradford," in his usualtone and made no further remarks. But before the hour was over he tookoccasion to borrow her book for a moment, and directly after he returnedit a note fell from its pages into her lap. With starry eyes she unfoldedit and read:

  "O Morning Star that smilest in the blue, O star, my morning dream hath proven true, Smile sweetly, thou! my love hath smiled on me."

  The lines were from "Gareth and Lynette." The universe turned into song.It was getting altogether too much for Hinpoha to hold and that afternoonbefore the fire in the Open Door Lodge she revealed the progress of herromance to the other Winnebagos.

  "Did you really give him a lock of your hair?" asked Gladys.

  Hinpoha nodded. "Just a tiny curl. It doesn't show much at all where Icut it out."

  "Collecting locks of hair doesn't mean so terribly much," said Katherinedryly. "I read about a boy once who begged a lock of hair from every girlhe met and then had his sister embroider a sofa cushion with them. Andanother one used them for paint brushes."

  "Oh, but this is--different," said Hinpoha with lofty pity. It had justdawned on her that Katherine was jealous. The same miracle that haddropped the scales from her eyes and revealed to her the fact that shewas beautiful had also made her realize that Katherine was hopelesslyplain.

  "And then the verse he wrote afterward," said Gladys, hastening to upholdHinpoha. "That proves he is in earnest. And, anyway, it must be true.Didn't all the fortunes say he was fair and his initials were D. K., andhe was a great scholar, and would be president, and he would fall in lovewith Hinpoha's hair?" And Katherine had to admit that whatsoever waswritten in the stars was written.

  It mattered little to any of them, Hinpoha least of all, that ProfessorKnoblock had thus far said nothing openly upon the subject to Hinpoha.

  "Isn't his bashfulness adorable?" cooed Gladys. "He's too shy to expresshimself face to face with her; he puts all his--his passion intowriting."

  "Won't those notes be lovely to read over together when you're old?" saidSahwah, also stricken with a sentimental fit. But at the mere mention ofsuch a thing Hinpoha fled with burning cheeks.

  "Hello, Red," said a cheerful voice in her ear, as she went dreaming downthe street one day. "Where have you been keeping yourself for the lastfew weeks? You haven't been down in the gym once."

  "Hello, Captain," she said sweetly. (How young he was, she was thinking.How hopelessly kiddish beside the manly form of Professor Knoblock!)

  "Say, you must have your tin ear on today," remarked the Captainjovially. "I had to call you three times before you answered."

  "I was thinking," said Hinpoha, and blushed.

  "Must have been an awful hard think," remarked the Captain, stooping tothrow a stone at a cat. (He's nothing but a kid, thought Hinpoha for thesecond time.)

  It was on this occasion that the Captain, happily believing all was wellbetween himself and Hinpoha, invited her to go to the Senior dance atWashington High with him.

  "I'm awfully sorry, Captain," she said kindly, "but I'm goingwith--someone else."

  "Who?" asked the Captain blankly. The "bid" for that party had cost theCaptain just a dollar and a half, as he was not a member of the class,and he had made the investment for the sake of going with Hinpoha and noone else. So he repeated in a startled tone, "Who?"

  "Oh, someone," answered Hinpoha tantalizingly, and with that he had to becontent. To herself she was saying, "How foolish it would be to promiseto go with the Captain and then not be able to accept when--when _he_asks me." For word had gone round the school that all the faculty weregoing to honor the Senior Dance with their presence, and whom else wouldProfessor Knoblock ask but herself?

  But of all things to happen just at this time, the very next day Hinpohacame down with the mumps, or rather the mump, for only one side of herthroat was affected. The first half she had had in childhood.

  "That horrid mump stayed away on purpose before," she wailed, "and waitedall these years to jump out on me just at this time. And my new partydress is too sweet for anything, and my gilt slippers--oh-oh-oh-oh wasthere ever such a disappointment?" Gladys and Sahwah and Katherine, whohad all had theirs "on both sides" and were therefore allowed to call,were consumed with sympathy, and were loud in their efforts to consolethe stricken mumpee.

  "Has _he_ come to see you?" ventured Gladys.

  Hinpoha shook her head, which was a somewhat painful process.

  "Of course he can't come," said Sahwah, "he probably hasn't had them."

  Katherine's expression seemed to say that a really brave knight wouldn'thesitate to expose himself to any danger for the sake of seeing his lady,seeing which Hinpoha croaked hoarsely, "They probably wouldn't let himcome," the "they" in this case presumably referring to the schoolauthorities.

  "I saw him down in Forester's this noon when I was ordering the flowersfor mother's birthday," said Gladys, and they all sighed.

  Just then the doorbell rang and Gladys, who was sent to answer it,returned with a long box in her hand addressed to "Miss DorothyBradford."

  "From Foresters," said Sahwah breathlessly.

  "Flowers!" said Gladys. "Hurry and open them."

  The box disclosed a dozen, long-stemmed pink roses. "Oh! Ah!" echoed thefour in unison.

  "From--him?" asked Gladys.

  "There's no card in the box," said Hinpoha, vainly searching.

  "They must be from him," said Gladys decidedly. "Wasn't he in Forester'sthis morning? And it seemed to me I heard him asking for pink roses."

  Hinpoha put the flowers in a tall vase and regarded them with rapture.They were the first flowers ever sent to her by a man. In them she foundcomfort for having to miss the dance.

  "Was he there?" she inquired falteringly of Gladys, the day after theparty.

  Gladys answered in the affirmative. "Did--did any of you dance with him?"Hinpoha wanted to know further.

  Gladys shook her head. "I saw him dancing once or twice with MissSnively," she said. "I don't believe he stayed very long. He disappearedbefore it was half over."

  Hinpoha was satisfied. He had not enjoyed himself without her. "Wasn't itnoble of him to dance with Miss Snively?" she said enthusiastically. "Noone else would, I'm sure."

  At Commencement time the year before an old Washington High graduate, whohad attained fame and fortune since his school days, presented the schoolwith funds to build a swimming pool. Work had progressed during the yearand now the pool was completed and about to be dedicated. An elaboratepageant was being prepared for the occasion. Mermaids and water nymphswere to gambol about in the green, glassy depths and lie on the paintedcoral reefs; Neptune was to rise from the deep with his trident; agarland bedecked barge
was to bear a queen and her attendants; and thenafter the pageant there were to be swimming races, an exhibition ofdiving and then a stunt contest.

  The Winnebagos, being experienced swimmers, were very much in the show.Sahwah had invented a brand new and difficult dive, which she hadchristened Mammy Moon; Hinpoha had learned the amazing trick of sittingdown in the water and clasping her hands around her knees; Gladys couldswim the entire length of the pool with the leg stroke only, holding aparasol over her head with her hands, thus giving the impression that shewas taking a stroll on a sunshiny day. Katherine, alas, could not swim.The largest body of water she had seen at home had been the cistern, andmost of the time it was low tide in that. But this did not prevent herfrom thinking up new and ludicrous stunts for the others to do. It wasshe who invented the "Kite-tail" stunt, which was one of the signalsuccesses on the night of the pageant. In this one of the senior boys,who was a very powerful swimmer, swam ahead with a rope tied around hiswaist, to which another performer clung. Behind this second one four orfive more boys were strung out like the tail of a kite, each one holdingon to the heels of the one ahead, and all towed by the first swimmer.

  The great night arrived and the building which housed the pool wascrowded to the doors. The Senior girls and boys had spent hoursdecorating the hall with festoons of greens and potted palms and ferns,so that it looked like the depths of a forest in the center of which thepool glittered like a magic spring. Cries of admiration rose from theaudience all around. Hinpoha, who in the first part of the performancewas a mermaid, with water lilies plaited in her shining hair, saw onlyone face in the crowd, and that was Professor Knoblock, as he leaned overthe polished brass rail and looked at her, and looked, and looked, andlooked. Only that day Hinpoha, filled with the spirit of romance, hadslipped a note into the dictionary on his desk, at the beginning of theletter "L," the place where she had put the lock of hair, thankingProfessor Knoblock for the flowers. An hour later, in sudden terror thathe would not find it there and someone else would, she had gone to removeit. But it had vanished, and in its place was another verse from Garethand Lynette:

  "O birds that warble to the morning sky, O birds that warble as the day goes by, Sing sweetly; twice my love hath smiled on me."

  The opening of the pool was a success in every way. The nymphs nymphed,and the mermaids wagged their spangled tails to the delight and wonder ofthe spectators, and the royal barge swept up and down to the strains ofstately music. Then the pageant retired, the islands folded up theirtents and vanished, and the swimmers went behind the scenes to preparefor the races and the stunts. To bridge over this interval, Hinpoha hadbeen left in the pool all alone to amuse the crowd by floating on abarrel and trying to balance a tray on her head as she bobbed up anddown. The crowd shouted with laughter and cheered her wildly. All butone. With arms crossed triumphantly over her breast and tray steady onher head, Hinpoha looked up to see Miss Snively standing by the edgeregarding her with a coldly sarcastic expression. It was as if she saidin words, "Only such a flathead as you could balance a tray on it." Butthe great happiness that surged inside of Hinpoha made her charitable andforgiving toward all the world, and she sent a sweet and friendly smileinto Miss Snively's face. But that marble-hearted lady looked away. Thenext minute there was a slip, a shriek, the flash of a silk dress, and asplash, and Miss Snively had disappeared beneath the surface at the deepend of the pool. Hurling the tray into space Hinpoha made a magnificentplunge for distance toward the spot where Miss Snively had gone down.Simultaneously with her plunge there was another movement in the crowd,and Professor Knoblock, stripping off his coat, jumped over the rail intothe pool. Hinpoha reached Miss Snively first, just as the blue silkappeared on the surface, and, evading her wildly clutching hand, managedto hold her head above water while she struck out for the rail toward thehands that were stretched down to her everywhere. Then she became awareof another figure struggling at her side. Professor Knoblock had come upafter his plunge, struck out blindly and then suddenly doubled up andgone down again. Thrusting Miss Snively hastily toward the helping hands,Hinpoha turned and rescued her professor, who had miscalculated his leapand struck his head on the side of the pool. The whole business had nottaken two minutes since the first alarm, but Hinpoha was the heroine ofthe hour. She was cheered and praised and petted and patted on the headand exclaimed over until she was quite bewildered. Her heart was thumpinguntil it deafened her. She had saved her lover's life, and, bashful as hewas, she knew that now he must speak. It would not happen tonight. Theyhad rushed him home in a taxicab. But tomorrow----

  Somehow she managed to finish her part in the program and drink fruitpunch in the gymnasium afterward. While she stood in a corner cooling herburning cheeks at an open window somebody came and stood beside her.Hinpoha turned and faced the Captain, and listened absent-mindedly to hiswords of praise. Then one sentence he said caught her attention. "Say,"he said bashfully, "how did you like the flowers?"

  "What flowers?" asked Hinpoha wonderingly.

  "The roses--pink ones--I sent you when you had the mumps."

  Hinpoha stared at him blankly, unbelievingly. No, no, it could not betrue, the roses had come from her light-haired professor. "Did _you_ sendthem?" she asked in a tone in which no one could have detected any degreeof appreciation for the favor.

  "Wasn't there any card in the box?" asked the Captain. "I gave one to Mr.Forester to put in."

  "No," answered Hinpoha, with a gulp, "there wasn't; and Ithought--somebody else sent them."

  "Didn't you like them?" asked the Captain, feeling in the air thatsomething was wrong somewhere. "Don't you like roses?"

  Hinpoha pulled herself together with an effort. Tears of disappointmentwere standing in her eyes. "Ye-es," she answered politely, but withoutenthusiasm, "they were lovely; perfectly lovely." And she ran hurriedlyout of the corner, leaving the Captain staring after her in bewilderment.

  "I don't believe he sent them to me at all!" she told herself in thesolitude of her own room that night. "The horrid thing found out that Igot them and told me that just to tease me. Anyway, it doesn't make aparticle of difference about Professor Knoblock." And she fell asleepwhispering to herself with bated breath, "Tomorrow!"

  She walked to school with lagging steps the next morning. Now that thegreat hour was at hand she was filled with a desire to flee. Then sheheard footsteps behind her, and, glancing out of the corner of her eye,saw the professor approaching. With a wildly beating heart she walked on,her face straight to the front. He was coming. He was overtaking her. Nowhe was upon her. With a great effort she turned her head to look at him,her lips parted in a tremulous smile. Professor Knoblock raised his hatstiffly, nodded frigidly and passed on without a word, leaving Hinpohastaring after him stunned. Unseeingly she stumbled on to school. Onequestion was racing back and forth in her mind like a shuttle in aloom--what was the meaning of it? Classes recited around her in school;she heard them as in a dream. Professor Knoblock did not look at her asshe entered the Literature class room; he was taking two of the boyssharply to task for never being able to recite. Hinpoha sat with her eyesfixed on her book. Professor Knoblock was evidently ill-humored thismorning, though apparently none the worse for his mishap the eveningbefore. He was dealing out zero marks right and left if the recitationsdid not go like clock-work. And as was only to be expected the morningafter such an elaborate affair as the dedication of a swimming pool,clock-work recitations were very few and far between.

  The professor finally lost all patience. "Take your books," he commanded,"open and study the lesson the remainder of the hour, and the first one Isee dawdling or whispering will be sent back to the session room."Hinpoha's eyes followed the lines on the page, but she could not havetold what she was reading. The question was still beating back and forthin her mind.

  "Lend me your pencil," whispered her neighbor. Mechanically she held itout to him and when he took it he thrust a stick of gum into her hand. Hewas still in a festive mood. Professor Knoblock caught the
movement. Atthe same moment another pair in the back of the room began giggling aboutsomething.

  "You two are out of order!" shouted the professor. "Leave the room!" Alleyes were turned toward the two in the back.

  "I mean you, George Hancock, and you, Dorothy Bradford," said theProfessor severely. Hinpoha turned pleading, unbelieving eyes on him."Leave the room," he repeated with rising anger, "go back to your sessionroom!" And with the world rocking under her feet, Hinpoha went.

  As the pupils came back from their respective classes that noon there wasa sensation in the air. Groups of girls stood around whispering to oneanother and exclaiming. "Did you ever hear anything like it?" rose on allsides. "Who would ever dream of her getting----"

  Hinpoha, dumb and miserable, sat apart, until some one dragged her intothe center of a group. "Have you heard the news?"

  "No," she answered dully.

  "Miss Snively's engaged!" announced a young lady, in the same tone shewould have said: "The sky has fallen!"

  "She is!" said Hinpoha. "To whom?"

  "Professor Knoblock!" continued the speaker. "They've been engaged a longtime--but it just leaked out yesterday in a teachers' meeting. That's whyhe came here to teach."

  "But the notes he wrote me," moaned Hinpoha to the Winnebagos, who hadgathered for an indignation meeting that afternoon. "And the curl I gavehim---- Oh-oh-oh!" and she hid her face in her hands and groaned.

  Katherine had been poking about in a corner of the room during thepreliminary wail. She now came forward carrying a box in her hand whichshe laid on Hinpoha's knee.

  "What's this?" asked Hinpoha.

  "Open it and see," advised Katherine.

  Hinpoha complied and there fell into her lap a long, curling, red ringletand a piece of paper written over in Hinpoha's hand.

  "I have a confession to make," said Katherine, striking a dramaticattitude. "I put that note into your book asking for the lock of hair,and watched until you put it into the dictionary. Then I took it outafter you left the room. I wrote the notes that followed to keep the ballrolling. I don't believe Professor Knoblock knows a thing about his greatromance with you."

  "You did it!" cried Hinpoha blankly, turning fiercely upon Katherine."You made such a fool out of me that I'll never be able to show my faceagain as long as I live. You--you----" sobs choked her and cut off allutterance.

  "But the flowers," gasped Gladys, "who sent them?"

  "Captain did, the mean old thing!" sobbed Hinpoha.

  "But the Key, and the Horoscope, and the Fortune Teller," continuedGladys, "they all said he would be the one. I don't see how it could havecome out any other way."

  Katherine rose from her knees and rapped on the table for attention."Girls," she said seriously, "I suppose you think it was a very unkindand low-down sort of joke I played on Hinpoha, getting her all worked uplike that with those notes, and under ordinary circumstances it wouldhave been. But isn't there a saying somewhere 'that awfully sick peopleneed awfully strong medicine,' or something to that effect? Here you allwere gone completely loony--excuse the expression, but it's just what youwere--gone perfectly loony about this fortune-telling business. You didit so much that I actually believe you began to think it was true. Thenthat fool fortune-teller told Hinpoha about the light-haired man that wascoming into her life soon, and when the new professor arrived you allthought he was the one. I just happened to find out soon after he camethat he was engaged to Miss Snively. I knew if I told you then youwouldn't believe it, so I waited until it came out. But I was afraidHinpoha would do something really silly before she got through, anddecided to take a hand in the game myself. When I wrote that note aboutthe hair I was sure she would see through it and come to her senses. Thefact that she swallowed it shows how far out of her right mind she was. Inever believed she would put a lock of hair into the dictionary. But whenshe seemed to take it all for gospel truth I couldn't resist thetemptation to go on and have some more fun."

  "But--his handwriting," said Hinpoha faintly.

  "Easiest thing in the world to imitate," said Katherine, saying nothingabout the weary hours it had taken her to accomplish that feat. "And Isigned my own initial, 'K.,' which was certainly not taking theprofessor's name in vain. I never told a soul, so there's nobody to crowover you. You stand just exactly where you did at first with theprofessor."

  "But," said Gladys, still not satisfied, "why did he always look atHinpoha when he read the sentimental passages?"

  "Because he's built that way," answered Katherine scornfully. "There areplenty of men who will make eyes at every pretty girl they see, whetherthey have any right to or not. Besides I heard him tell one of the otherteachers once that your red hair reminded him of the hair that belongedto a dear friend he 'lost in youth.'"

  After hearing Katherine's clean-cut and sensible version of the affairthe whole thing seemed unutterably ridiculous and one by one they beganto think that she was right, and had played the part of the friendinstead of the mischief-maker, in shocking Hinpoha back into commonsense. Hinpoha advanced shakily and held out her hand. "I thank you,Katherine," she said, "for 'saving me from myself'!" And Katherine seizedher hand in a crushing grip, and soon they were hugging each other, andtheir friendship, instead of being shaken to its foundations, wascemented more strongly.

  "I think he's horrid," said Gladys, "and if I were you, Hinpoha, I'dnever look at him again--the way he treated you this morning, after youhad taken the trouble to fish him out of the pool last night. He's anungrateful wretch, and doesn't deserve to be rescued."

  Katherine was looking at them with a queer expression. "There's somethingelse I suppose I ought to tell you," she said, "although I wasn't goingto at first. But now he's acted so you really ought to know. MissSnively's falling into the pool wasn't exactly an accident."

  "Did he push her in?" asked Gladys in a horrified tone.

  "Goodness, no," said Katherine. Then she added: "Yes, in a way he did,too, for he was responsible for her falling in. You know what a dub theboys all think him; they never call him anything but 'that mutt,' or'that cissy.' He couldn't help seeing it, and it bothered him that hewasn't a hero in their eyes. Besides," she continued shrewdly, "if he wasthinking of getting married he probably was looking for promotion, and henever would get it as long as he couldn't control the boys. So hecomplained to Miss Snively about it and she obligingly offered to fallinto the pool and have him rescue her, and so make a hero out of himovernight. I heard them planning it yesterday; they were on one side of abig pile of greens waiting to go up and I was on the other. She was to doit during the intermission when no one was in the pool. They didn't seemto know that you were going to be in then. But she did it anyway,thinking that the professor would reach her first. But you were too quickfor them. That's why he's so furious with you; you kept him from being ahero, and got all the praise he expected to get. Then when he bumped hishead on the side of the tank and had to be rescued himself, it put thefinishing touch to the tragedy."

  "Gee!" exclaimed Hinpoha and Sahwah and Gladys and the other two girls,all in a breath. In moments of great emotional stress refined languageseems an utter failure as a vehicle of expression. Slang is the onlything that adequately expresses the feelings. They said it again,intentionally and emphatically--"_Gee!_"

  "What a foolish thing to do," said Sahwah, when they had all recoveredsomewhat, "falling into the pool to give a man a chance to be a hero. Shemight have been drowned."

  "She didn't run such an awful risk," observed Katherine, the all-knowing."She's a good swimmer herself; I've heard people say so."

  And again the girls sought relief in the expression not sanctioned by thegrammar.

  "Going to the Lodge?" said the Captain's voice in Hinpoha's ear a fewdays later, as she swung along the street. The Captain's manner wasdecidedly diffident. He was not at all sure how she would treat him thistime.

  Hinpoha nodded companionably. "I'm going to practice with the handball,"she said energetically. "Come on, I'll race you across the
field."

  "That was great, wasn't it?" she cried laughingly, as she stopped beforethe door, breathless, with her hair flying around her face.

  "Say, give us a curl, will you?" begged the Captain, tugging at one thathung over the collar of her coat.

  "Don't be silly, Captain," she said reprovingly. "You know I hate peoplewho are sentimental."

  Hinpoha's romance was a thing of the past.