Betty Wales, Senior

by Harriet Pyne Grove

  CHAPTER V

  THE RETURN OF MARY BROOKS

  All through the fall Mary Brooks's "little friends" had been hoping fora visit from her, and begging her to come soon, before the fine weatherwas over. Now she was really and truly coming. Roberta had had theletter of course, by virtue of being Mary's most faithful satellite; butit was meant for them all.

  "The conquering heroine is coming," Mary wrote. "She will arrive at fouron Monday, and you'd better, some of you, meet the train, becausethere's going to be a spread along, and the turkey weighs a ton. Don'tplan any doings for me. I've been to a dance or a dinner every night fortwo weeks and I'm already sick of being a busy bud, though I've onlybeen one for a month--not to mention having had the gayest kind of atime all summer. So you see I'm coming to Harding to rest andrecuperate, and to watch you children play at being seniors. I know howbusy you are, and what a bore it is to have company, but I shall justtake care of myself. Only get me a room at Rachel's little house aroundthe corner, and I won't be a bit of trouble to anybody."

  "Consider the touching modesty of that now!" exclaimed Katherine. "As ifwe weren't all pining for a sight of her. And can't you just taste thespread she'll bring?"

  "We must make her have it the very night she gets here," said Bettypractically. "There's a lot going on next week, and as soon as peoplefind out that she's here they'll just pounce on her for all sorts ofthings."

  "I hereby pounce upon her for our house dance," announced BabbieHildreth hastily. "Isn't it jolly that it comes this week? I had apresentiment that I'd better save one of my invitations."

  "You needn't have bothered," said Babe enviously. "I guess there'llalways be room for Mary Brooks at a Westcott House dance--as long as19-- stays anyway."

  "Don't quarrel, children," Madeline intervened. "Your dance is onWednesday. Is there anything for Tuesday?"

  "A psychology lecture," returned Helen Adams promptly.

  "Cut it out," laughed Katherine. "Mary isn't coming up here to go topsychology lectures."

  "But she does want to go to it," declared Roberta, suddenly waking up tothe subject in hand. "I thought it was queer myself, but she speaksabout it particularly in her letter. Let me see--oh, here it is, in thepostscript. It's by a friend of Dr. Hinsdale, she says; and somebodymust have written her about it and offered her a ticket, because shesays she's already invited and so for us not to bother. Did you writeher, Helen?"

  "No," said Helen, "I didn't. The lecture wasn't announced untilyesterday. There was a special meeting of the Philosophical Club toarrange about it."

  "It's queer," mused Katherine. "Mary was always rather keen onpsychology----"

  "On the psychology of Dr. Hinsdale you mean," amended Madelineflippantly. "But that doesn't explain her inside information about thislecture. We'll ask her how she knew--that's the quickest way to findout. Now let's go on with our schedule. What's Thursday?"

  "The French Club play," explained Roberta. "I think she'd like that,don't you?"

  Madeline nodded. "Easily. It's going to be awfully clever this time.Then that leaves only Friday. Let's drive out to Smuggler's Notch in theafternoon and have supper at Mrs. Noble's."

  "Oh, yes," agreed Betty. "That will make such a perfectly lovely end-upto the week. And of course we shall all want to take her to Cuyler's andHolmes's. May I have her for Tuesday breakfast? I haven't any classuntil eleven, so we can eat in peace."

  "Then I'll take lunch on Tuesday," put in Katherine hastily, "because Iam as poor as poverty at present, and a one o'clock luncheon preceded bya breakfast ending at eleven appeals to my lean pocketbook."

  "I should like to take her driving that afternoon," put in Babbie.

  "You may, if you'll take me to sit in the middle and do the driving,"said Bob, "and let's all have dinner at Cuyler's that night--a grandaffair, you know, ordered before hand, at a private table with a screenaround it, and a big bunch of roses for a centre piece. Old girls likethat sort of thing. It makes them feel important."

  "With or without food?" demanded Madeline sarcastically, but no one paidany attention to her, in the excitement of bidding for the remainingdivisions of Mary's week.

  All the Chapin House girls and the three B's met her at the station and"ohed" and "ahed" in a fashion that would have been disconcerting toanybody who was unfamiliar with the easy manners of Harding girls, atthe elegance of her new blue velvet suit and the long plumes that curledabove her stylishly dressed hair, and at the general air of "worldly andbud-like wisdom," as Katherine called it, that pervaded her smallperson.

  They had not finished admiring her when her trunk appeared.

  "Will you look at that, girls!" cried Katherine, feigning to be quiteoverpowered by its huge size. "Mary Brooks, whatever do you expect todo with a trousseau like that in this simple little academic village?"

  Mary only smiled placidly. "Don't be silly, K. Some of the spread is inthere. Besides, I want to be comfortable while I'm here, and this autumnweather is so uncertain. Who's going to have first go at carrying theturkey?"

  "I've got a runabout waiting," explained Babbie. "I'm going to drive himup. There'll be room for you too, Mary, and for some of the others."

  The seat of a runabout can be made to hold four, on a pinch, and thereis still standing-room for several other adaptable persons. The rest ofthe party walked, and the little house around the corner was soon thescene of a boisterous reunion.

  Mary's conversation was as abundant and amusing as ever, and she did notshow any signs of the weariness that her letter had made so much of.

  "That's because I have acquired a society manner," she announcedproudly. "I conceal my real emotions under a mask of sparkling gaiety."

  "You can't conceal things from us that way," declared Katherine. "Howunder the sun did you hear about that psychology lecture?"

  "Why, a man I know told me," explained Mary innocently. "He's also afriend of the lecturer. We were at dinner together one night last week,and he knew I was a Harding-ite, and happened to mention it. Anyobjections?"

  "And you really want to go?" demanded Madeline.

  "Of course," retorted Mary severely. "I always welcome every opportunityto improve my mind."

  But to the elaborate plans that had been made for her entertainment Maryoffered a vigorous protest. "My dears," she declared, "I should be wornto a frazzle if I did all that. Didn't I tell you that I'd come up torest? I'll have breakfast with anybody who can wait till I'm ready toget up, and we'll have one dinner all together. But it's really too coldto drive back from Smuggler's Notch after dark, and besides you know Inever cared much for long drives. But we'll have the spread to-night,anyway, just as you planned, because it's going to be such a full week,and I wouldn't for the world have any of you miss anything on myaccount."

  "And you don't care about the French play?" asked Roberta, who had movedheaven and earth to get her a good seat.

  "No, dear," answered Mary sweetly. "My French is hopelessly rusty."

  "Then I should think you'd go in for improving it," suggested Babe.

  "There's not enough of it to improve," Mary retorted calmly.

  "Well, you will go to our house-dance, won't you?" begged Babbie.

  "Oh, you must," seconded Bob. "I've told piles of people you werecoming."

  "We shall die of disappointment if you don't," added Babe feelingly.

  Mary laughed good-naturedly. "All right," she conceded, "I'll come. Onlybe sure to get me lots of dances with freshmen. Then I can amuse myselfby making them think I'm one, also, and I shan't be bored."

  On the way back to the campus the girls discussed Mary's amazingattitude toward the pleasures of college life.

  "She must be awfully used up," said Roberta, solemnly. "Why, she used tobe crazy about plays and dances and 'eats.'"

  "No use in coming up at all," grumbled Katherine, "if she's only goingto lie around and sleep."

  "She doesn't look one bit tired," declared Betty, "and she seems glad tobe back, only she doesn't want to do an
ything. It's certainly queer."

  "She must be either sick or in love," said Madeline. "Nothing else willaccount for it."

  "Then I think she's in love," declared little Helen Adams sedately. "Shehas a happy look in her eyes."

  "Bosh!" jeered Bob. "Mary isn't the sentimental kind. I'll bet she feelsdifferent after the spread."

  But though the spread was quite the grandest that had ever been seen atHarding, and though Mary seemed to enjoy it quite as heartily as herguests, who had conscientiously starved on campus fare for the weekbefore it, it failed to arouse in her the proper enthusiasm for collegefunctions.

  On Tuesday "after partaking of a light but elegant noontide repast onme," as Katherine put it, Mary declared her intention of taking a nap,and went to her room. But half an hour later, when Babbie tiptoed up toask if she really meant to waste a glorious afternoon sleeping, and toput the runabout at her service, the room was empty, and Mary turned upagain barely in time for the grand dinner at Cuyler's.

  "We were scared to death for fear you'd forgotten us," said Madeline,helping her off with her wraps. "Where have you been all this time?"

  "Why, dressing," explained Mary, wearing her most innocent expression."It takes ages to get into this gown, but it's my best, and I wanted todo honor to your very grand function."

  "That dress was lying on your bed when I stopped for you exactly fifteenminutes ago," declared Bob triumphantly. "So you'll have to think ofanother likely tale."

  Mary smiled her "beamish" smile.

  "Well, I came just after you'd gone and isn't fourteen minutes to wasteon dressing an age? If you mean where was I before that, why my napwasn't a success, so I went walking, and it was so lovely that Icouldn't bear to come in. These hills are perfectly fascinating afterthe city."

  "You little fraud," cried Madeline. "You hate walking, and you can't seescenery----"

  "As witness the nestle," put in Katherine.

  "So please tell us who he is," finished Madeline calmly.

  "The very idea of coming back to see us and then going off fussing withWinsted men!" Babe's tone was solemnly reproachful.

  But Mary was equal to the situation. "I haven't seen a Winsted man sinceI came," she declared. "I was going to tell you who was with me thisafternoon, but I shan't now, because you've all been so excessively meanand suspicious." A waitress appeared, and Mary's expression grewsuddenly ecstatic. "Do I see creamed chicken?" she cried. "Girls, Idreamed about Cuyler's creamed chicken every night last week. I was soafraid you wouldn't have it!"

  Her appreciation of the dinner was so delightfully whole-hearted thateven Roberta forgave her everything, down to her absurd enthusiasm overa ponderous psychology lecture and the very dull reception that followedit. At the latter, to be sure, Mary acted exactly like her old self, forshe sat in a corner and monopolized Dr. Hinsdale for half an hour by theclock, while her little friends, to quote Katherine Kittredge, "champedtheir bits" in their impatience to capture her and escape to morecongenial regions.

  The next night at the Westcott House dance Mary was again her gay andsportive self. If she was bored, she concealed it admirably, and that inspite of the fact that her little scheme of playing freshman seemeddoomed to failure. Mary had walked out of chapel that morning with thefront row, and, even without the enormous bunch of violets which none ofher senior friends would confess to having sent her, she was not afigure to pass unnoticed. So most of the freshmen on her card recognizedher at once, and the few who did not stoutly refused to be taken in byher innocent references to "our class."

  She had the last dance but one with the sour-faced Miss Butts, who neverrecognized any one; but Mary did not know that, and being rather tiredshe swiftly waltzed her around the hall a few times and then suggestedthat they watch the dance out from the gallery.

  "What class are you?" asked Miss Butts, when they were establishedthere. "My card doesn't say."

  "Doesn't it?" said Mary idly, watching the kaleidoscope of gay colorsmoving dizzily about beneath her. "Then suppose you guess."

  Miss Butts considered ponderously. "You aren't a freshman," she saidfinally, "nor a sophomore."

  "How are you so sure of that?" asked Mary. "I was just going to say----"

  "You're a junior," announced Miss Butts, calmly disregarding theinterruption.

  Mary shook her head.

  "Senior, then."

  Mary shook her head again.

  "I didn't think you looked old enough for that," said Miss Butts. "ThenI was mistaken and you're a sophomore."

  "No," said Mary firmly.

  Miss Butts stared. "Freshman?"

  "No," said Mary, who considered the befooling of Miss Butts beneath her."I graduated last year."

  "Oh, I don't believe that: I believe you're a freshman after all,"declared Miss Butts. "You started to say you were a few minutes ago."

  "No, I graduated last June," repeated Mary, a trifle sharply. "Here'sMiss Hildreth coming for my next dance. You can ask her. I'm her guestthis evening. Didn't I graduate last year, Babbie?"

  Babbie stared uncomprehendingly for a moment. Then she remembered Mary'splan.

  "Why, you naughty little freshman!" she cried reprovingly. "Have youbeen telling her that?"

  Miss Butts looked dazedly from the amused and reproachful Babbie toMary, whose expression was properly cowed and repentant.

  "Are you really a freshman?" she asked. "Why, I don't believe you are.I--I don't know what to believe!"

  Mary smiled at her radiantly. "Never mind," she said, "you'll know thetruth some day. Next fall at about this time I'll invite you to dinner,and then you'll know all about me. Now good-bye."

  Babbie regarded this speech as merely Mary's convenient little way ofgetting rid of the stupid Miss Butts, who for her part promptly forgotall about it. But Mary remembered, and she declared that the sight ofMiss Butts's face on the occasion of that dinner-party, with all itsrather remarkable accessories, was worth many evenings of boredom at"girl dances."

  It was not until Friday, that Mary's "little friends" caught herred-handed, in an escapade that explained everything from the size ofher trunk to the puzzling insouciance of her manner. They all, andparticularly Roberta, had begun to feel a little hurt as the days wentby and Mary indulged in many mysterious absences and made unconvincingexcuses for refusing invitations that, as Katherine Kittredge said, wereenough to turn the head of a crown-princess. Friday, the day that hadbeen reserved for the expedition to Smuggler's Notch, dawned crisp andclear, and some girls who had had dinner at Mrs. Noble's farm the nightbefore brought back glowing reports of the venison her brother had senther from Maine, and the roaring log fire that she built for them in thefireplace of her new dining-room. So Roberta and Madeline hurried overbefore chapel to ask Mary to reconsider. But she was firm in herrefusal. She had waked with a headache. Besides, she had letters towrite and calls to make on her faculty friends and the people she knewin town.

  The embassy returned, disconsolate, and reported its failure.

  "It's just a shame," said Eleanor. "We've been saving that trip all thefall, so that Mary could go."

  "Let's just go without her," suggested Katherine rebelliously. "Therecan't be many more nice days."

  But Betty shook her head. "We don't want to hurt her feelings. She's adear, even if she does act queerly this week. Besides, every one of usbut Roberta and Madeline has that written lesson in English 10to-morrow, and we ought to study. I'm scared to death over it."

  "So am I," agreed Katherine sadly. "I suppose we'd better wait."

  "But we can go walking," said Madeline to Roberta, and Roberta, morehurt than any of the rest by her idol's strange conduct, silentlyassented.

  They were scuffling gaily through the fallen leaves on an unfrequentedroad through the woods, when they heard a carriage coming swiftly upbehind them and turned to see--of all persons--Mary Brooks, who hateddriving, and Dr. Hinsdale. Mary was talking gaily and looked quitereconciled to her fate, and Dr. Hinsdale was leaving the horses ver
ymuch to themselves in the pleasant absorption of watching Mary's face.Indeed so interested were the pair in each other that they almost passedthe two astonished girls standing by the roadside, without recognizingthem at all. But just as she whirled past, Mary saw them, and leanedback to wave her hand and smile her "beamish" smile at the unwittingdiscoverers of her secret.

  It was dusk and nearly dinner time before Dr. Hinsdale drew his horsesup in front of the house around the corner, but Mary's "little friends"gave up dressing, without a qualm, and even risked missing their soup tosit, lined up in an accusing row on her bed and her window-box, ready togreet her when she stumbled into her dark room and lit her gas.

  "Oh, girls! What a start you gave me!" she cried, suddenly perceivingher visitors. "I suppose you think I'm perfectly horrid," she went onhastily, "but truly I couldn't help it. When a faculty asks you to godriving, you can't tell him that you hate it--and I couldn't for thelife of me scrape up a previous engagement."

  "Speaking of engagements"--began Madeline provokingly.

  "All's fair in love, Mary," Katherine broke in. "You're perfectlyexcusable. We all think so."

  "Who said anything about love?" demanded Mary, stooping to brush animaginary speck of dust from her skirt.

  "Next time," advised Rachel laughingly, "you'd better take us into yourconfidence. You've given yourself a lot of unnecessary bother, and usquite a little worry, though we don't mind that now."

  "Why didn't you tell us that he spent the summer at the same place thatyou did?" asked little Helen Adams.

  Mary started. "Who told you that?" she demanded anxiously.

  "Nobody but Lucile," explained Betty in soothing tones. "She visitedthere for a week, and this afternoon just by chance she happened tospeak of seeing him. It fitted in beautifully, you see. She doesn't knowyou were there too, so it's all right."

  Mary gave a relieved little sigh, and then, turning suddenly, fell uponthe row of pitiless inquisitors, embracing as many as possible andsmiling benignly at the rest. "Oh, girls, he's a dear," she said. "He'sworth twenty of the gilded youths you meet out in society." She drewback hastily. "But we're only good friends," she declared. "He's beendown a few times to spend Sunday--that was how I heard about thelecture--but he comes to see father as much as to see me--and--and youmustn't gossip."

  "We won't," Katherine promised for them all. "You can trust us. Wealways seem to have a faculty romance or two on our hands. We'regetting used to it."

  "But it's not a romance," wailed Mary. "He took me walking and drivingbecause mother asks him to dinner. We're nothing but jolly goodfriends."

  "Nothing but jolly good friends--"

  That was the last thing Mary said when, late the next afternoon, her"little friends" waved her off for home.

  "Isn't she just about the last person you'd select for a professor'swife?" said Helen, as Mary's stylish little figure, poised on the rearplatform of the train, swung out of sight around a curve.

  "No, indeed she isn't," declared Roberta loyally. "She'll be a fine one.She's awfully clever, only she makes people think she isn't, because sheknows how to put on her clothes."

  "And it's one mission of the modern college girl," announced Madelineoracularly, "to show the people aforesaid that the two things can gotogether. Let's go to Smuggler's Notch Monday to celebrate."