PLANNING POPULARITY
“The freshman frolic is to be given next Saturday evening in the gym.
Miss Ferguson has invited me to go. I understood her to say that her
roommate, Miss Waters, was going to invite you. Have you seen her?”
Stephanie Norris’s voice betrayed no sign of pleasant interest in the
information she had just delivered to her stout roommate, Laura Fisher.
Laura, deep in a novel, had not glanced up from it at her chum’s
entrance into the room.
“Nope.” Laura did not raise her eyes from her book.
“Anything but a manless dance.” Stephanie shrugged disdainfully as she
walked to the dressing table mirror and began a critical survey of the
attractive reflection it threw back to her. Tall, and charmingly
slender, the violet-gray of her tailored cloth frock strikingly
emphasized the black of hair and eyes and the clear, lovely pallor of
skin.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying,” Stephanie turned petulantly
away from the mirror to frown at Laura.
“Um-m-m,” Laura went on reading.
“Will you please stop behaving like a dummy, and listen to me?”
Stephanie’s black eyes had begun to flash ominously.
“Um-m-m,” Laura’s pale blue eyes lifted themselves slowly from her book.
Reaching a hand into a conveniently-near box of nut chocolates she
carefully selected one, bit into it enjoyingly, then drawled, “I’m
listening.”
“Did you hear anything I said?” Stephanie demanded crossly.
“Not much. You say such a lot, Steve, it’s hard to keep track of your
remarks. I heard you say something about the freshman frolic, and then
something more—about a dummy,” Laura paused, a glint of malice in her
pale eyes.
“You are—”
“I’m really listening this time,” Laura interrupted sweetly.
“You are going to be invited to the frolic by Miss Waters.” Stephanie
had intended to tell Laura that she was detestable. Policy warned her to
more impersonal speech. “Miss Ferguson has invited me.”
“You don’t seem to be crazy over the honor,” Laura fished for another
chocolate.
“I’m not,” Stephanie declared pettishly. “Miss Ferguson is all right. I
like her better than I like the rest of this Wayland Hall crowd.
Hamilton is, and has been from the first, a disappointment to me. But
then—I never wanted to come here.” She sank into a chair, frowning
moodily.
“You didn’t?” Laura at last showed indication of interest. “Then why in
Pete’s name did you make the gang think it was the only college on the
map?”
“Because—” Stephanie flushed, “I wanted the gang with me,” she said
lamely.
“We’d have gone with you to Smith, or Bryn Mawr—to any of the others you
might have picked. None of us were crazy about Hamilton. We’d heard of
it as a stiff-necked proposition, all tied up with Brooke Hamilton
traditions. You said it led the rest socially; that it was a college of
millionaires’ daughters,” she finished accusingly.
“That’s true; about the millionaires’ daughters,” Stephanie defended.
“My father heard that the wealthiest men in the U. S. favor Hamilton as
a college for their daughters. He was determined I should enroll at
Hamilton; not because of that. He had another reason for wishing me to
come here; a stronger one.”
“What was it?” Laura was eyeing Stephanie speculatively.
“I don’t know,” Stephanie confessed. “He didn’t say he had, but—I
understand my father, when he’s set his mind upon some certain thing. He
talked to me very seriously about Hamilton. He wants me to make a
notable record for myself here; win honors, you know, and make my
influence felt on the campus. He’s promised me a diamond necklace next
June if I succeed in carrying out his ideas on the subject.” Stephanie’s
lowering features cleared themselves for the moment.
“Go to it.” There was a hint of indolent satire in the stout girl’s
tone. “What are you going to do to start the noble influence ball to
rolling?”
“How should I know?” Stephanie countered irritably. “The very idea of it
makes me weary. I want the necklace. I know that much. I’ll have to
study the situation, and then try to hit the high spots at the
psychological moment.”
“It sounds easy. I wonder—” Laura made a tantalizing pause.
“Don’t make fun of me,” Stephanie turned upon her roommate with sudden
fierceness of tone. “It’s—it’s outrageous in Father to expect any such
thing of me, necklace or no necklace. I like to do as I please, without
having to watch my step all the time. I’ll have to see to it that I make
brilliant recitations. That means digging, when I’m longing to be out in
my car. I’ll have to make myself popular with the girls that count as
powers on the campus. That will be a frightfully tiresome task. I’m
going to entertain a good deal. Father has doubled my allowance. I shall
pick the best sorority, and try to make it, and go in for dramatics and
sports.”
“Good-bye, in case I shouldn’t see you again,” Laura crunched a
chocolate almond, smiling at Stephanie out of half-closed eyes. “You’re
going to be _so_ busy.”
“Oh, stop trying to be funny. You can help me a lot if you choose. You
can keep the rest of our gang in line to help me, too. Only they mustn’t
be let into the real reason why. It wouldn’t do. I can trust you. I’m
not so sure of the others. Through one, or another of them, my plan
would leak out on the campus, and make not only myself, but my father,
too, seem ridiculous. You are so clever. You can pick up bits of campus
news from the students without them suspecting they are being pumped.
Then I’ll know exactly how I stand at all times, and can act
accordingly. You’ll be something on the order of a prime minister to
me.” Stephanie had now become flatteringly appealing.
“Yes, I can wind the girls around my finger,” Laura conceded
confidently. “Only they never suspect they’re being wound. You get the
credit as leader, while I do the managing. You’re in luck, Steve, to
have me around. Do you get that?”
“Oh, I know it.” Stephanie had changed to sweetly grateful. Laura’s
boast, made in significant assurance, called for sugar on her part.
“You’re quite wonderful, dear,” she continued purringly. “What do you
think we ought to do first?”
“Get on the good side of those three high and mighty P. G.’s,” Laura
made instant reply. “I’ve been finding out a few things on the campus
about them. We made a mistake the day we came to the Hall in snubbing
them when they tried to be friendly.”
“I didn’t care to be patronized by them,” Stephanie cut in coldly.
“They weren’t trying to patronize us. I told you so then, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but I—”
“You wouldn’t believe that I knew what I was talking about. And the
moral to that, my dear, is—they’ve given us a fine letting-alone ever
since.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Sheer stubbornness prompted Stephanie to contest her
chum’s triumphant statement. “I imagine it’s only because they’ve been
busy with their own affairs that we’ve seen so little of them. Half the
time they’re away from meals. We’ve merely kept to ourselves which is—”
“Another mistake we’ve made,” Laura supplemented with curt conviction.
“It has cut us off from finding out things about them, and also about
this confoundedly high-brow institution of learning.”
“Rubbish. I’ve heard too much about it already.”
“And about _them_?” Laura persisted coolly.
“Well; I’ve asked Miss Ferguson about them. She has no time for them,
though she is too well-bred to say it outright. When I spoke to her
about the station business, and about having met them she said in the
sweetest way that she hardly knew them, and would prefer not to discuss
them.”
“Naturally; don’t doubt it,” Laura commented with lazy sarcasm.
“What do you mean?” Stephanie questioned in a sharp tone.
“Just what I say. She has good reason for pretending to mind her own
business. I happen to know _that_ much about her.”
“What do you mean?” Stephanie repeated, eyeing her roommate narrowly.
“Oh, I heard a few little things about Miss Ferguson the other day. For
one thing, she is a trouble-maker. She tried to start trouble, it seems,
last year at the Hall for Miss Cairns. I don’t know why. I’m going to
find out, though. Anyway, she didn’t get away with it. Miss Remson, and
a crowd of P. G.’s who were at the Hall then, and who belonged to the
same sorority as Miss Cairns, stood by her. At the last, almost all of
Miss Ferguson’s pals, who had backed her, turned against her. This P.
G., Marjorie Dean something or other, who, according to report is the
Great I Am here at Hamilton, was on Miss Cairns’ side, too. Miss
Ferguson didn’t have a look-in.”
“I don’t believe any such tale,” Stephanie said contemptuously. “Who
told it to you?” she asked with displeased curiosity.
“Nothing doing. I promised not to tell what I’ve just told you, or from
whom I heard it. I’ve partly broken my word already by repeating it to
you. I thought you ought to know about it, but it’s not necessary for
you to know who said it,” Laura answered coolly.
“No one except an enemy of Miss Ferguson’s would say such mean things
about her; that she was a trouble-maker, and that she hadn’t a look-in,”
was Stephanie’s scornful opinion.
“Then I must be the enemy,” Laura laughed softly. “What’s the matter
with you, Steve? But, no; it’s not your fault. I didn’t make myself
clear. The person who told me about Miss Ferguson wasn’t trying to down
her. She simply told me a little about the trouble last year, and I drew
my own conclusions about Miss Ferguson. You’ll find out, sooner or
later, that they’re correct. Look out for her. Remember, I’ve warned
you.”
“I don’t need your warning. I consider myself capable of judging
character. I like Miss Ferguson.” Stephanie’s chin tilted itself to a
defiant angle.
“Which goes to show what a punk judge of character you are,” was the dry
retort. “Never mind. Let it go at that. No use in raving at me, Steve.
The person who told me is a friend of Miss Ferguson’s, but she has a
wholesome respect for Miss Cairns, and her P. G. supporters. That’s why
I couldn’t glean much from her. Better success next time,” Laura
predicted, indolently confident.
“You’re altogether too mysterious. You know more about—well, about this
story than you’ve told me,” Stephanie coldly accused.
“No; I don’t; and that’s flat. When I _do_ find out more, you’ll be the
first to hear it.” There was finality in the lightly-given promise.
Stephanie frowningly accepted defeat. She could not well afford to
quarrel with Laura. Once thoroughly angered, Laura was apt to turn
stonily silent, refusing to speak to her for weeks. “What shall you wear
to the freshman dance?” She changed the dangerous subject half sulkily.
“Haven’t decided yet.” A glint of amusement appeared, and as quickly
disappeared in Laura’s eyes. “The pale blue georgette with the silver
lace tunic, maybe. It’s my prettiest frock.”
“I shall wear my white satin dress; the imported one, you know. It’s a
stunning thing; too stunning to be wasted on a girl hop, but first
impressions count. There’s to be a beauty contest. How I’d _love_ to win
it. Miss Ferguson says there are to be no juniors or seniors at the
frolic this year. The sophomore class is a little larger than the
freshie class, so the juniors and seniors won’t be needed as escorts. I
haven’t seen any startling beauties yet among either the freshies or the
sophs. Have you?” Stephanie’s question betrayed ill-suppressed
eagerness.
“I’ve seen three or four beautiful girls on the campus. They may be
upper class girls, for all I know. Of course, Miss Monroe, here at the
Hall, is a beauty, but she’s a senior, and that lets her out. I heard
she’d won it two successive years. I heard, too, that this Marjorie
Dean, I can’t remember her married name, had won it, twice; that she was
prettier than Miss Monroe, though of a different type of beauty.”
“Do you think there is a chance that I might win the contest?” Stephanie
could not resist asking the question.
“Yes; I think there is,” Laura returned speculatively, “particularly if
you should wear the white satin dress. You _are_ beautiful, Steve, but—”
Laura paused, shaking her head.
“But what?” Stephanie demanded, half affronted.
“You’re too imperious in manner. It somehow shows itself in your face,
and lessens your good points. You ought to be more gracious of manner.
You’d make a better impression all around. Just try it out for the rest
of the week and go to the frolic looking radiant, whether you feel like
being gracious, or not,” was Laura’s calmly pertinent advice.
“What do you expect me to do? Go about the campus grinning like a Chessy
cat?” came the nettled retort.
“It will do more for you in the way of popularity than your empress of
the world pose. You asked me for my opinion. You now have it. I’m going
for a ride, and a stop at Baretti’s on the way back to dinner.” Laura
rose with the deliberate slowness which characterized her every
movement. “You’d better come along.”
“No; I have letters to write,” Stephanie replied curtly. She was still
piqued at Laura’s scarcely flattering criticism.
“Then you’d better put a ‘Busy’ sign on the door. Miss Ogden has been
here twice to see you while you were out.”
“Oh, that tiresome little upstart!” Stephanie’s face darkened. “I can’t
endure her.”
“She seems to have a crush on you.”
“She’ll have to get over it, then, for I _can’t endure her_. She’s
underbred.” Stephanie’s red upper lip lifted itself scornfully.
“She’s a freshie, though. Don’t forget that,” Laura reminded. “Class
election’s next week. Be nice to her, and she may nominate you for
president. Antagonize her, and she may do you a lot of damage among the
freshies. Those black eyes of hers can shoot danger signals. Try
snubbing her once, and then—look out.”
“You’re positively maddening today,” Stephanie exclaimed in angry
vexation. “You’ve done nothing but criticize me ever since I came into
the room.”
“At least I’ve said what I had to say to your face.” Laura’s unconcern
at her roommate’s displeasure was apparent. “You’d like it a good deal
less if I had said it to one of the other girls, and behind your back.”
Stephanie accepted the truth of Laura’s calm statement with a pettish
little shrug. “I shall not put up a ‘Busy’ sign, nor answer the door if
she should knock,” she declared perversely.
“It’s up to you.” It was Laura’s turn to shrug. “Don’t forget, though,
that Miss Ogden rooms with Miss Cairns, and Miss Cairns is one of the
high powers on the campus, as nearly as I can judge. She’s a pal of the
Great I Am.”
“I fail to see any special reason why all that nonsense should be of
interest to me.” Stephanie chose to continue to be perverse.
“Think it over. So long. Shall I hang out the ‘Busy’ sign?”
“_No_,” Stephanie all but shouted the reply.
“All right. Have your own way about it, and be sorry afterward.” With
this prophetic warning, Laura went out the door, laughing softly,
leaving her stubborn roommate to digest the unwelcome prediction as best
she might.
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