PLEADING FOR TIME
It's a very large order, Jane, but you're the merchant. How on earth
do you expect to obtain permission to stay at Lenox without giving
the whole thing away?"
"I haven't an idea, but depend on old friend Circumstances to bob
something up. It is wonderful how very simple it is to flim-flam a
philosopher. They never seem to suspect intrigue and walk right into
the trap. I've tried it before with Rutledge! she's a lamb if you
watch your ba-as."
It was "the morning after" and that trite phrase surely fitted the
occasion. Jane had dragged Dozia from her dreams in spite of threats
and defiance, and now both juniors were on their way back to the
dining hall at Madison.
"Rather different from the last tramp we took over this prairie,"
said Jane, "but as a thriller you can't beat midnight moonlight."
"Not that I'd care to," Dozia answered witheringly. "I can't see
that the adventure 'got us anywhere' as brother Tom would say. I
haven't any brother, you know, Jane dear, but it always sounds
better to blame one's slang on him, don't you think?"
"I'm positive," said Jane, "but I have a trick of blaming mine on
Judy. Wonder will she sleep all day because I, the faithful alarm
clock, did not go off at her ear. There's the bell! I'm not very
hungry. As an appetiser I think a night such as the last rather a
flivver."
"Isn't it? I have that widely advertised gone feeling myself. Here's
a chance to duck in without being noticed."
"We were out for early exercise," prompted Jane significantly, "and
don't be too intelligent about that fire when they ask."
"'Deef' and dumb," quibbled Dozia. "Thank you for the party, Jane. I
had a lov-el-ly time."
"Don't mention it," whispered Jane, as the line of students
swallowed the two adventurers.
But the day was "fraught with questions," as Judith Stearns put it,
deploring her own inability to obtain any "intelligent account of
the whole performance." It became known early that the two juniors
who had been searched for during the night, were not others than
Jane and Dozia, but even a veritable grilling at the hands of a
picked corps of sophs brought nothing more definite from the
wayfarers than "they were over visiting Lenox and the 'fire' was a
false alarm."
"And of course we couldn't put our heads out, for fear of panic,"
grumbled Nettie Brocton.
The day passed somehow, and it was conspicuous by an entire absence
of freshmen from the usual intermingling between periods. Even to
Jane the reason for this was not clear until, in a burst of
confidence with Judith, she outlined her plan of staying over at
Lenox "until the ghost business was disposed of."
"Oh, I know," she explained while Judith pondered. "Miss Gifford is
keeping them home to prevent them gabbing. That's darling of her.
She wants to give me--the newly discovered spook sleuth--a decent
chance. Are you coming over with me tonight, Judy?"
"Cables couldn't hold me back. Dinksy, you bribed me into staying
home last night but I'll never again 'list' to your blarney. But it
wasn't goblins I believe; however, we'll decide that when we trap
'em. Your benign influence has worked well thus far. I promised to
help a freshie with some Latin prose and she never came to collect.
Now I suppose I have to spoil my pretty hands with basket ball.
Don't you wonder how it was we used to love that unladylike game?"
Judith assumed a most sedate attitude, but did not succeed in hiding
a forlorn rent in her skirt even with a very broad palm plastered
over it.
"'Ye strangers on my native sill tread lightly for I love it
still,'" quoted Jane. "Seems to me you take about as much pleasure
in the big game as you ever did, Judy. But let's away! We need it.
I'm all stiffened up with--"
"Your night of terror," finished Judith. "I don't wonder. Anyone
might be sore and achey from running that Bingham Fire Brigade. I
would love to have seen Dozia at the spigot," and Judith went
through some fire antics. "Come along, Jane; we'll give the recruits
a try-out," she decided the next moment, "but don't ask me to put
them through the paces again tomorrow, for that's to be an afternoon
off, if I can arrange it."
"Oh," said Jane tritely.
"Yes, oh," repeated Judith most impressively and with a grimace that
supplied more than mere punctuation.
Jane laughed and pushed the big girl ahead of her with sudden
playful force.
"Choo-choo! the fire is out and we're going home," she laughed.
"This is just about the speed of the little red hose cart."
"Wait a minute!" called Judith, halting so suddenly she almost threw
Jane. "I would rather be the driver if you don't mind."
"Young ladies!" protested one of the faculty, Miss Roberts, she who
taught English and looked the part. "Is not that rather boisterous
for indoor play?"
The culprits choked an appropriate reply and resumed the usual
"indoor" behavior.
"One thing I hate knowledge for," remarked Jane, "it makes one so
inhuman."
"Yes, doesn't it? We may break our precious necks in the gym and be
buried with military honors but we 'dassent' skin a shin anywhere
else. System, of course," witheringly from Dozia.
"Quick!" exclaimed Jane. "There are Nettie and Janet heading this
way. They'll want me to tell the whole of last night's experience
over again. Let's get at practice and preclude the recitation. I
feel like singing the story to the tune of the 'Night Before
Christmas,' it's getting so monotonous." "You have no appreciation
for thrills, Jane Alien," eluded Judith. "That yarn will stand
telling for months to come. I've noticed your variations, however,
and can see the effort wearies you. But say, Dinksy, tonight is the
night and Lenox is the place. After that, if you like, I'll take up
the thread of your famous ghost story, and you may refer all
inquiries to me." The last word of this peroration was all but lost
on stone walls, for the oncoming horde seized Jane and, exactly as
she feared, demanded further details of the big night.
"And did you really see a ghost?" begged Winifred Ayres with a
perfectly flagrant relish of the sordid details.
"Packs of 'em," evaded Jane.
"Safety in numbers," remarked Nettie Brocton. "That's my mother's
argument for large gatherings. All right, Jane, we'll let you off,
but we have our opinion of such utter selfishness. There's the scrub
team all lined up outside the gym. I suppose they also are waiting
to hear the story."
"Save me from my audience!" wailed Jane, falling into convenient
arms. "Why not install a ghost in Madison if you are all so keen on
it? I can't see how you expect one paltry spook to cover the entire
campus."
"Oh, Jane! Miss Allen, Jane!" called the girls from that basketball
line. "We've decided to beg off from practice this afternoon, if you
don't mind. We all want to go to the village to see the sights." It
was Inez Wilson who acted as spokesman and Inez was quite capable of
organizing "a lot of fun" in seeing the village sights.
"What's new?" demanded Judith.
"Oh, something," insinuated Mabel Peters.
"Are we debarred? Too old and cranky or something like that?" teased
Jane. Her hair was bursting from her cap like an over-ripe thistle,
and her cheeks were velvety in a rich glow of early winter tints.
She hardly looked too old even for skipping rope just then.
"Of course everyone may come who wants to," Inez condescended, "but
juniors usually don't enjoy henning (shopping)."
"I adore it," insisted Jane. "Do let us tag on and we'll buy the
peanuts. But this really was to be an important afternoon at the
baskets. However do you children expect to maintain the honor of
Wellington if you do not keep fit? Now when I was center--"
"Hear! Hear! Hear!" interrupted Mabel. "Remember that famous song,
'I know a girl and her name was Jane'!"
"A rebold ribald rowdy!" shouted a chorus.
But Jane was escaping--running down the walk with hands clapped over
her ears to shut out the memories of her earlier years when that
refrain was quite too popular to be enjoyable.
Outside the big gate an auto horn honked, and the students drew back
to give the big car approaching full sweep of the country roadway.
Then another horn sounded, and from the opposite direction a smart
little run-about was seen cutting in at high speed. Both drivers saw
their danger and both jammed brakes. The big car rolled to the
gutter while the runabout picked up speed and shot by safely. This
brought the touring car to the curb where the Wellingtons stood
watching, and a glance at the seats showed these occupants:
Dol Vin driving, Shirley Duncan at her side, and a rather elderly
country couple spread over the big back seat.
"Shirley's folks!" whispered Inez. "We heard they were in town
seeing the sights, and hoped we would run across them." This was
evidently the "something" hinted at in the soph's outline of the
"henning" party.
Dolorez Vincez was too clever to show embarrassment, and Shirley
Duncan was too cruel to hide it. She plainly was urging the driver
on.
"That's your college, darter, ain't it?" the girls could hear the
elderly woman ask Shirley, but they did not hear the latter's
answer. Dolorez called, "Hello, girls," as she swung her car out
again in the dusty roadway, and the "darter" deprived that little
woman of her coveted information.
"She said hello!" announced Judith.
"Sweet of her," remarked Jane, but she was thinking of Shirley's
absence from Lenox on the night of the fire, and wondering if the
indifferent freshman had been absent during all the day as well?
"Hurry, hurry!" begged Mabel Peters. "What a lark to meet them at
the drug store. They'll be sure to want hot chocolate."
"I would guess at tea," drawled Judith, "but it's sure to be some
sort of drink. Come along and we may get a chance to return that
cordial hello."
"I'm not going," suddenly determined Jane. "All go along if you like
but I'm not going to lap up any more of that sickening chocolate.
I've taken the pledge until next allowance day," and she turned back
to Wellington entrance.
Judith, quick to interpret Jane's moods, knew the excuse covered a
more serious consideration and stepped back to ask "why?"
"That daughter is ashamed of those country parents," Jane made
chance to answer Judith, "and it would be horrid to spoil their
opinion of us. Delay the girls a while and Dol will have gone
through town safely."
"But isn't it dreadful she has such influence over that rebel
freshman?" commented Judith, slowly following the flock of students
headed for the village. "How are we going to stop it?"
"I don't know," confessed Jane, "but we must stop it some way. Just
because she has a claim on my--patronage is no reason why she should
disgrace Wellington. You go along with the youngsters, Judy, and
I'll go right up to the office now and unburden my conscience."
Jane's red haired disposition was asserting itself. "Think of the
hair bleaching, then the police farce, and now out riding with that
traitor. I'm going to tell Miss Rutledge the whole thing!" and no
argument of Judith's could dissuade her.
She turned back into the college grounds and struck a gait
calculated to bring her up to that office in short order, and was
more than half way through the campus when a small voice called out
her name.
"Miss Allen!"
She turned to a side path, following the call, and faced Sally
Howland.
"Just a minute, Miss Allen, please," pleaded the strange little
freshman. Jane waited till she reached her, then smiled into the
serious face of Sally.
"Hello, girlie," Jane greeted her. "What's the excitement?"
"You were so splendid last night, Miss Allen," panted Sarah Howland,
"and I am so ashamed to have to deceive you as you must see I am
doing." A flush suffused her pale face and she dropped her eyes in
pained self-consciousness. "But just--now--for this little while--I
can't see what else I am going to do!" she stopped and her hands
twitched miserably at her knitted scarf. Evidently the attempt at
confession was more difficult than she had anticipated.
"Don't distress yourself, dear," Jane soothed. "I realize you know
something of the queer happenings at Lenox, and I can see you have
some strong motive for withholding the explanation. There is a
reason, of course, and I have faith in your sincerity. After all,
Wellington is quite a little city in itself, and we are bound to
meet queer problems here. I am on my way to the office now to get
one off my mind."
"Oh, please, Miss Allen, don't report--Shirley Duncan," she stumbled
and stuttered over the name. "I know she is doing queer things but
she is such a--a country girl, and has never had any chances--"
"Did you know her before she came to Wellington?" asked Jane
directly.
"No, yes, that is I knew her just before we came," replied the girl,
very much confused and plainly embarrassed.
"I have noticed you seem to be friends," Jane pressed.
"Yes, sort of. But I do not agree with her in her attitude toward
college life," replied Sarah hurriedly--markedly so. She was trying
to shift the subject, Jane saw that plainly.
"It's good of you to plead for her," commented Jane, "but you see,
my dear, juniors are quite grown up and are expected to uphold the
college traditions. We really can't consider an individual where a
college principle is concerned." Jane had her eye on Madison and was
shifting to move that way. The freshman laid a detaining hand on her
arm.
"If you could just--be persuaded to wait until after mid-year," she
said, "perhaps then--things might look differently."
"But Sally, you know I saw you run out of that prohibited beauty
shop, and you must know we Wellingtons in good standing do not
patronize that place!"
This accusation startled Sarah. She dropped Jane's arm and all but
gasped: "When did you see me there?"
"The day of that absurd police business when my friend Miss Stearns
was so humiliated," Jane said severely.
"Oh, Miss Allen," and tears welled into Sarah's eyes. "I can't
explain, and I am so miserable. Perhaps--perhaps I should not try--"
Tears choked the wretched girl, and Jane relented at sight of her
misery.
"Really, Sally," she changed her tone, "I do feel awfully sorry to
see a freshman in distress, and I am sure I do not want to add to
it. I won't go to the office now, if that will make you feel better,
but I simply must do all I can to solve the mystery of the horrible
night noises at Lenox. Here come the girls from their hike; dry your
eyes and try to look pleasant."
Jane did not relish yielding; she had passed that childish stage,
when "to give in" seemed noble; it was now a question of expediency,
which was best? Should she go on and unburden her own conscience
just because she had decided to do so, or should she follow the
pleadings of this girl without having an intelligent reason?
Something stronger than psycho-analysis (Jane's new field of study)
forced her to look deeply into the tear-stained blue eyes of Sarah
Howland, and that same mystic power, older and surer than theory,
compelled Jane to reply:
"All right, Sally. I'll wait a while. It's all very queer but even
queer things are sometimes reasonable," and she threw an
affectionate arm about the little freshman as she turned her back on
the judicial office in the big, gray stone building.