ELFREDA REALIZES HER AMBITION
Midyears, a season of terror to freshmen, a still alarming period to
sophomores, but no very great bugbear to the two upper classes, came and
went. During that strenuous week the usual amount of midnight oil was
burnt, the usual amount of feverish reviewing done, and the usual amount
of celebrating indulged in when the ordeal was passed.
"Don't forget the game to-morrow," said J. Elfreda Briggs to the girls
at her end of the breakfast table one morning in early March. "The only
one this year in which the celebrated center, Miss Josephine Elfreda
Briggs, will take part. Sounds like a grand opera announcement, doesn't
it? Maybe it hasn't taken endless energy to keep that team together and
up to the mark. But our captain is a hustler and we are marvels," she
added modestly.
"I need no bard to sing my praises," began Miriam mischievously.
"I didn't say 'I,'" retorted Elfreda. "I said 'we.'"
"Meaning 'I'," interposed Emma Dean wickedly.
"As you like," flung back Elfreda sweetly. "You needn't come to the
game, you know, if you think it is to be a one-player affair."
"Oh, I'll be there, never fear," Emma assured her. "I have a special
banner of junior blue to wear."
Only one color had been chosen by 19-- for their junior year, one of the
new shades of blue which Gertrude Wells had at once renamed "junior"
blue. It was greatly affected by the juniors for ties, belts, hat
trimmings and girdles.
"Doesn't it seem strange not to be on the team this year, Miriam?" asked
Grace. "That is, when one stops to think about it. It never occurred to
me until this moment how much I have missed basketball. Mabel Ashe said
that we'd just simply drift away from it this year, and so we have. Now
we are going to cheer Elfreda on to victory."
"Elfreda is an artist in making baskets," commended Miriam.
"Much obliged," rejoined Elfreda, "but your praise doesn't turn my head
in the least. You can judge better of my artistic qualities after the
game."
"We hope to secure seats in the gallery," said Anne. "The front ones, of
course, are reserved for the faculty, but if we go to the gym very early
we may get good seats."
"I am not going to wait for you, if you don't mind, Miriam," remarked
Elfreda, rising. "I must see our captain before going to chapel this
morning."
"Run along," said Miriam. "I am not going to chapel this morning. I must
have that extra time for my biology. I can use it to good advantage,
too. There won't be any noise or disturbance in the room," she added
slyly.
Elfreda gave Miriam a reproachful glance over her shoulder as she left
the dining room. "You'll be sorry for 'them cruel words' some day," she
declared. "For instance, the next time my services as a chef are
desired," and was gone.
Miriam left the dining room a little later, going directly upstairs.
Grace and Anne lingered to talk with the girls still at breakfast, half
expecting to hear the news of Ruth's father brought up. Nothing was said
on the subject, however, and Grace wondered if Alberta Wicks and Mary
Hampton could possibly have come to their senses and refused to take
part in whatever mischief Kathleen had planned. How glad she would be,
she reflected, if the two seniors, who had caused her so many unpleasant
thoughts and moments turned out well after all.
After the service that morning she waited for Ruth, who was one of the
last of the long procession of girls who filed out of the chapel. Arline
was with her and made a rush for Grace the moment she caught sight of
her. "I have been watching for you," she said eagerly. "I haven't heard
a word, and neither has Ruth. Perhaps they were more honorable than we
believed them to be."
"I thought that, too," rejoined Grace. "It has been almost a week since
I told Ruth. We may never hear a word concerning it."
"It wouldn't make much difference now," said Arline. "Ruth knows, and
there isn't really anything to be said except that after many years'
separation she may find her father. She need not care who knows that."
"It was the cruel shock to her that I thought of, and so did Kathleen
West," explained Grace. "She seems determined to hurt some one's
feelings by 'notoriety' methods. Her newspaper work has made her hard
and unfeeling. She is always trying to dig up some one's private affairs
and make them public property. I imagine our two seniors have placed a
restraining hand on this last affair. I hope Mabel Ashe will never grow
cruel and unfeeling--and dishonorable."
"She won't," predicted Arline. "Father knows many delightful newspaper
women who are above reproach. Besides, Mabel will never remain on a
newspaper long enough to change. There is a certain young lawyer in New
York City who adores her, and I think she cares for him. There is no
engagement yet, but there will be inside of a year or my name is not
Arline Thayer."
"Really?" asked Grace, her eyes widening with interest. "She has never
so much as intimated it to me."
"I know a little about it, for we have mutual friends in New York.
Besides, Father knows the man. I've met him. He's a dear, and awfully
handsome."
Having lingered to talk until the last moment the two girls were obliged
to part abruptly and scurry off to their recitation rooms, which lay in
different directions. They met late in the afternoon in the gymnasium to
watch Elfreda's last practice playing before the game, but in their
momentary basketball enthusiasm the topic of the morning's conversation
was not touched upon.
The game between the sophomore and junior teams was looked upon as an
event of extreme importance. Elfreda's love for the game and the story
of her persistent effort to reduce her weight in order to glitter as a
prominent basketball star had become familiar to not only her upper
class friends, but throughout the college as well. She had several
freshmen adorers, who sent her violets and vied with one another in
entertaining her whenever she had an hour or two to spare them. In fact,
J. Elfreda Briggs was becoming an important factor in the social life of
Overton, with the satisfaction of knowing that she had won a place in
the hearts of her admirers through her own merit.
Considerable preparation in the way of decorations had been made. About
the balcony railing green and yellow bunting mingled with that of junior
blue. The two front rows were well filled with members of the faculty,
who wore ribbon rosettes with long ends and carried banners of blue, or
green and yellow, as the case might be. The Semper Fidelis Club,
resplendent in cocked hats of junior blue and wide blue crepe paper
sashes fastened in the back with immense butterfly bows, occupied places
directly behind the faculty. They had gone to the gymnasium an hour and
a half before the game in order to secure these seats, and were now
ranged in an eager, exultant row, impatiently awaiting the entrance of
the two teams.
With the shrill notes of the whistle began one of the most stubborn
conflicts ever waged between two Overton teams. From the instant the
ball was put in play and the players leaped into action the interest of
the spectators never wavered. During the first half of the game the
sophomores valiantly contested every foot of the ground, and it was only
at the very end of the half that the juniors succeeded in making the
score six to four in their favor.
In the last half the doughty sophomores rose to the occasion and tied
the score with their first play. Then Elfreda, with unerring aim, made a
long overhand throw to basket that brought forth deafening applause from
the spectators. The sophomores managed to gain two more points, but the
juniors again managed not only to gain two points, but to pile up their
score until a particularly brilliant play to basket on the part of
Elfreda closed the last half with the glorious reckoning of seventeen to
twelve in favor of the juniors.
Immediately a hubbub arose from the gallery. The Semper Fidelis Club
burst forth into a victorious song they had been practising for the
occasion, while another delegation of juniors also rent the air with
their chant of triumph over their sophomore sisters.
After Elfreda had experienced the satisfaction of being escorted round
the room by her classmates, who continued to sing spiritedly at least
three different songs at the top of their lungs, she was hurried into
the dressing room by the Semper Fidelis Club. The moment she was dressed
she was seized by friendly hands and marched off to Vinton's to a dinner
given by the club in honor of her. For the present, at least, she was
the most important girl in college, and feeling the weight of her
new-born fame, she was unusually silent, almost shy.
"Elfreda can't accustom herself to being a celebrity," laughed Miriam.
"She is terribly embarrassed."
"That is really the truth," confessed Elfreda. "I've always wanted to be
a basketball star, but it seems funny to have the girls make such a fuss
over me."
"You deserve it!" exclaimed Gertrude Wells. "You were the pride of the
team. I never want to see a better game. That last play of yours was a
record breaker."
The other members of the club joined in Gertrude's praise of Elfreda's
playing. The stout girl's face shone with happiness. To her it was one
of the great moments of her college life.
It was after seven o'clock when the diners left Vinton's. The club
gallantly escorted Elfreda to the very door of Wayne Hall and left her
after singing to her and giving three cheers. Grace, Anne, Miriam,
Arline, Ruth, Mildred Taylor and Laura Atkins were her body guard up the
stairs. At the landing Laura Atkins called a halt and invited every one
present to a jollification in her room that night in honor of Elfreda.
While Elfreda was explaining that she didn't wish the girls to go to any
trouble for her, although her eyes shone with delight at being thus
honored, the door bell rang repeatedly, and the maid, grumbling under
her breath, admitted Emma Dean, who skipped up the stairs two at a time.
"I'm always late," she announced cheerfully, "but hardly ever too late.
I stopped at the big bulletin board. I noticed a letter there addressed
to you, Grace. It was marked 'Important' in one corner. I had half a
mind to bring it with me, then--well--you know how one feels about
meddling with some one else's mail."
"I'm sorry you didn't bring it with you. Don't hesitate to do so next
time," returned Grace regretfully. "However, it won't take long to run
across the campus for it. I'll go now before I take off my hat and coat.
Thank you for telling me about it, Emma."
"You are welcome," called Emma after her as Grace ran to her room for
her wraps. Always on the alert for home letters, under no circumstances
could she have been content to wait quietly until the next day for the
coveted mail. If it were from her mother or father she could read it
over and over before bedtime and go to sleep happy in the possession of
it, and if it were from one of her numerous friends it would be joyfully
received.
The handwriting on the envelope Grace took from the bulletin board
looked strangely familiar. Tearing it open, she glanced hastily over the
few lines of the letter, an expression of incredulity in her eyes, for
the note said:--
"MY DEAR MISS HARLOWE:--
"May I come to Wayne Hall to see you to-morrow evening at half-past
seven o'clock? Please leave note in the bulletin board stating
whether this will be convenient for you.
"Yours sincerely,
"ALBERTA WICKS."
Grace read the note again, then mechanically folding it, returned it to
its envelope, and walked slowly back to Wayne Hall divided between her
disappointment in the letter, and speculation as to the purport of
Alberta Wicks's proposed call.