CHAPTER XIII

ENTER THE ROYAL MUMMIES

Kit deliberately planned her campaign for the following week, and the only

girl she took into her confidence was Anne Bellamy. It had been the

greatest relief, somehow, when Anne returned to Delphi for the fall term.

There was something good-natured and comfortably serene about Anne that

made her companionship a relief from that of the other girls. Jean often

said back home that Kit was such a bunch of fireworks herself, she always

needed the background of a calm silent night or a flaccid temperament, to

set her off properly.

"You know, Anne," Kit exclaimed, sinking with a luxurious sigh of content

down among the cushions on the broad couch in Anne's room, "I'd give

anything, sometimes, if I'd been an only child; of course, you've got a

brother, but you're the only girl. You don't know what it is to be one of

four. I share my room with Helen, back home, and all honors with Jean.

Then, of course, Doris is the baby, and while we all love each other

devotedly, still you do have to elbow your way through a large family, if

you want to keep on being yourself. I read somewhere about old Joaquin

Miller, the poet of the Sierras. Know him?"

Anne shook her head, as she combed out her long brown hair, holding one

roll with her teeth.

"No, I don't suppose you do," Kit went on happily. "That's one reason why

you and I are going to be fearfully good friends, 'cause you don't know

everything in creation. It seems to me I can't speak of anything at all at

home now that Jean doesn't know more about it than I do, or Helen thinks

she does, which is worse. Don't mind me this morning. I just got a family

budget, full of don'ts."

"Yes, and you're just as likely as not to be homesick to-morrow," laughed

Anne. "Go on about your poet."

"Oh, nothing, except that he didn't believe there should be more than one

room in a house, and he built little individual houses all over 'The

Heights' out in California. I'd love to do that back home, with a

dining-room on one green hill, and the kitchen down in the, valley."

"You'd need a mountain railway on an up grade, when it came meal time."

"Well maybe," Kit assented, "but at least I'd have my own bower in a pine

grove, and each of the royal princesses could go and do likewise. But that

isn't what I came over for. You know Marcelle Beaubien? The girls don't

like her going to Hope."

"Don't they?" Anne asked, mildly. "Well, what are they going to do about

it? I thought that's what colleges were for. Who's against her?"

"I don't think it's exactly anything definite or violent, but you know how

mighty uncomfortable they can make her. There's Amy Roberts and Norma and

Peggy Porter and the Tony Conyers crowd."

"She won't miss anything special, even if they do try to snub her,"

answered Anne laughingly.

"This is my second year at Hope, and I want to tell you right now that

Charity rules in the Douglas Dormitory. If you can get her on Marcelle's

side, the other girls will trot along like little lambkins."

"Do you suppose," Kit leaned forward impressively, as she sprang her plan,

"do you suppose Charity would loan her room for a Founders' Tea?"

"A Founders' Tea," repeated Anne. "What's that?"

Kit proclaimed grandiloquently:

"A tea in honor of Malcolm Douglas, pioneer founder of Hope College, and

grandfather of Marcelle Beaubien."

Anne's blue eyes widened in amazement, and her hair-brush was suspended in

mid-air.

"How did you find out?" she whispered. "Does Marcelle know?"

"Of course she knows. She told me all about it herself, but I don't think

she's got sense enough to realize what a nice handy little club of

defense it gives her against the girls to spring it on them at the tea,

and you've got to help me get it up. We'll coax Charity into loaning us

her room first, and I'll look up all about Malcolm Douglas, and write a

cute little essay about the historic founding of Hope. Then we'll send out

mysterious little invitations, and just say on them, 'To meet a Founder's

granddaughter.'"

"When?" asked Anne, reflectively. "You ought to do it soon, so if it works

they'll take her into the different clubs right away. I think you ought to

try and see Charity to-day after classes and get her advice. Another

thing, Kit, do you suppose Marcelle would have any relics around of her

grandfather that we could kind of spring on them unexpectedly?"

Kit's eyes kindled with appreciation.

"That's a worthy thought. Sort of corroborative evidence, as it were.

Anne, you're a wonder." She sprang up from the couch, her hands deep in

her white sweater pockets, looking very fit and purposeful. "I think it's

up to me to go and prepare Charity. You make out a list of things that

we'll want for the tea. You'd better be the refreshment chairman, and

we'll try and make it a week from next Saturday."

"Too far off," Anne demurred. "Better do it while it's fresh in your mind,

before you start lectures."

"I believe I'll go over now. It's only a little after five, and that'll

keep me from answering that family budget until I've calmed down. If you

see any one looking for me, tell them I'll be right straight back. I'll

stop in the library and look up Malcolm's historic record, on my way, so

you may truthfully announce I'm delving into research."

Kit went up the hill road buoyantly. Dearly she loved to set a goal ahead

of her, and then run for it. Delphi had appeared rather barren as a field

for her real endeavor, but now with the opening of school, she could see

her way ahead to conscientiously starting something, which she sincerely

hoped she could finish. Coming along the sidewalk which bounded the campus

on the south, she met Charity on her way back from the post-office.

"This is ever so much better than going up-stairs," Kit said. "Let's walk

around the campus twice, while I unburden my soul."

At the second lap, the whole plan had been matured by Charity's quick

sympathy and understanding.

"And it will do them good, too," she said, as they parted. "That's not the

college spirit by a long shot, and you're perfectly right, Kit, but just

the same it's easier to get it on the girls in this way with a nice

friendly accompaniment of sandwiches, and iced tea, and whatever you do,

Kit, don't breathe one blessed word to anybody. I wouldn't even tell

Marcelle herself that she is to be the guest of honor. She'd run like a

deer, if she even suspected it."

The date of the Founders' Tea was set for the following Saturday. Kit

evolved the invitations herself and wrote them on blank cards, as she

remembered doing back at the Cove in the days of opulence and

entertainment.

_Saturday, October Second, Three to Five_.

You are invited to attend a Founders' Tea, Douglas Dormitory,

Hope College, Miss Allen's Study.

"Diffident, modest and correct," quoth Kit, critically, when she showed

them to Anne. "Now, what are you going to eat, Anne? Isn't there something

besides just plain tea? Couldn't we fix up some kind of glorified

lemonade?"

"I've got it all down," answered Anne. "Grape juice, ginger ale and

lemons. It's wonderful, and six kinds of sandwiches. Cheese with pimento,

and cheese with chopped walnuts, lettuce and egg, chopped raisins with

beaten white of egg, and raspberry jam and cream cheese, sardine on

lettuce with mayonnaise and deviled ham, with macaroons on the side."

"It's perfectly dandy," exclaimed Kit. "Aunt Daphne told me when I first

started in that I could give a spread for the girls, and this is it. After

it's all over, I'll tell her about Marcelle, and I know she'll enjoy it

and approve. I think we ought to get Peggy or Amy to write some kind of

an anniversary ode for us. It might begin like this:

"Oh, have you a family founder,

On your ancestral tree,

Who laid the corner-stone of Hope

On the campus at Del-phee."

"Better finish that up, and read it at the tea," advised Anne; "there's

something so spirited about it. Is Charity going to decorate the study for

the festal occasion? We ought to have something sort of different, don't

you think so?"

"Pioneer relics would be the only thing, and I don't know where we'd scare

those up."

"There's a whole cabinet of them in the Dean's room at the Assembly Hall."

The two girls looked at each other wisely. The subject really needed no

argument or discussion. Kit said briefly:

"I'll try. I think I can get some of them anyway if I approach Uncle

Cassius as a humble student seeking knowledge."

All unprepared for the onslaught, the Dean sat enjoying his after dinner

smoke that evening when Kit tapped at the door.

"Come in," he called, a little bit testily, looking over his eye-glasses

at the intruder. "I don't think I can talk with you just now, my dear," he

said. "I am very busy working out a dynasty problem."

"Oh, but I'd love to help," Kit pleaded, "and I did help before on the

aborigines of Japan, didn't I? I even remember their names, the Ainos."

"This is early Egyptian. Something you know nothing whatever about."

"Just mummies?" inquired Kit. "Oh, Uncle Cassius, we girls back home made

up a lovely little couplet about that when we were studying Egypt at high

school.

"'Heaven bless the royal mommies,

And the jewels in their tummies.'"

No answering gleam of amusement showed in the Dean's eyes. In fact, be

regarded her, Kit thought, rather severely for this unseemly display of

levity.

"Of course," she added, hastily, "that was when I was very much younger

than I am now. It was two years ago."

The Dean coughed deprecatingly, and turned back to the pamphlets before

him.

"Remains have been discovered," he began in quite the tone he used in

Assembly, "of the lost tribe of the Nemi. When the Greeks, my dear,

obtained a foothold in Carthage and along the Mediterranean coast, the

Nemi remained unconquered and retreated to the mountain fastnesses, west

of the source of the Nile."

"Well, I know all about that," Kit answered, encouragingly, perching

herself on the arm of a chair, across from him. "Just see," and she

counted off on her fingers, "Livingstone-Stanley,--Victoria

Falls--Zambesi--and Kipling wrote all about the people in 'Fuzzy-Wuzzy.'"

"No, no, no, not a bit like it!" the Dean exclaimed. "My dear child, learn

to think in centuries and epochs. The long and short of it is, there have

been some very wonderful remains of the Nemi recently discovered, and I

have been honored by a commission from the Institute to write a complete

summary of the results of the expedition and its historic significance."

"Don't you wish you'd been there when they dug them up? That's what I'd

love, the exploring part, don't you know. I should think it would be

fearfully dry trying to make bones sit up and talk, when you are so far

away from it all."

"They are not sending me bones," replied the Dean with dignity, "but they

are sending me the Amenotaph urn, and a sitting image of Annui. I believe

with these two I shall be able to establish as a fact the survival of the

Greek influence in ancient Egypt. My dear, you have no idea," he added,

warmly, "how much this explains if it is true. There may be even some

Phoenician data before I finish investigating."

"Phoenicians," thought Kit, although she said nothing. "Yes, I do remember

about them, too. Tin,--ancient Britain--and something about Carthage, or

was that Queen Dido?" Then she said aloud very positively and earnestly:

"I know I can help you a lot with this, Uncle Cassius, if you will only

let me, because history is my favorite study, and the reason I came to

speak to you to-night is this: We girls are going to have a Founders' Tea,

Saturday afternoon, up at Hope; just a little informal affair, but I'd

like to give it a----" She hesitated for the right word, and the Dean

nodded encouragingly, being in a better mood.

"Semblance of verity? Are you preparing a treatise?"

"No. I want something they can look at," Kit explained, "and I knew if I

told you about it, you'd let us take a few of the old things out of that

cabinet in your room at Assembly Hall. All I need would be--well, say a

few portraits of any of the founders of Hope, and any of the relics of the

Indians or French explorers."

The Dean graciously detached a key from the ring at one end of the slender

chain which barred his waistcoat.

Kit retired with it, as though she bore a trophy, and the next day the

last preparations were completed for impressing on the freshman class the

honor of having a Founder's granddaughter in their midst.

Kit of Greenacre Farm · 第 13 / 30 章