Hester Alden barely escaped being campused for dancing her way through
the main hall and shrieking in wild excess of spirits. To add to the
enormity of the offense, the day on which this had occurred was the day
when the ice-cream wagon came in from Flemington and disposed of its
wares at the front entrance of the campus. At the time of her exhibition
of high spirits, Hester had held high in her hand a paper butter-dish
filled with cream, which had melted and was trickling over the edge of
the dish and down her sleeve. The German teacher had heard the unusual
commotion and appeared on the scene.
"Ach, Fraulein Alden, what matters it by you? To your room go you at
once. To Miss Burkham, I such conduct shall report."
Hester in the exuberance of spirit, hugged the little German lady who
was as fat as a dumpling. "Fraulein Franz, you are a dear old soul if
you do get your English verbs confused. You would dance and laugh and
spill your ice-cream too, if you were to play on the scrub team."
"Gra-shus," said Fraulein. "Pardon me, I did not know the cause. I
wonder not that you much rejoice."
She retired to her room. Hester laughed again, but softly this time for
Miss Burkham's office was not a great distance away.
"The dear old Fraulein! To think of her begging my pardon for
reprimanding me. I am only too glad it was not Miss Burkham. If she had
seen me, I'd had two weeks on the campus and someone else would have
been compelled to carry my cream from the wagon to the coping."
The other east dormitory girls had heard the news and were quite as well
pleased as Hester. Mame Cross had been forbidden by her father to play
any but practice games. He thought she grew too excited for her own
good. It was her place on the second squad which Hester was to fill.
Helen had used her influence in behalf of her roommate; for there were
ten other players who would have been as well pleased as Hester was, had
it fallen to their lot to substitute. Fortunately they were a liberal,
broad-minded set of girls. They were not envious, but rejoiced with
Hester in her good fortune.
As Hester hurried down the main hall to the dormitory stairs, she found
her own particular set of friends waiting for her on the landing.
"Here she is!" cried Erma. "We have been looking everywhere for you.
Isn't it simply grand to think that one of our set got on?"
"I'm glad you've got it, since I couldn't," said Mame. She had always
the expression of one on whom Fortune had frowned. On the contrary, she
had fairly basked in that lady's smiles, since the first day of her
babyhood.
"I don't see why father will not let me play. There's no danger of my
hurting myself, and what if I should? He has an idea that I am such a
precious article that I should be done up in cotton. One thing, Hester,
if you play a match game, you'll look better than I do. My basket-ball
suit was a fright; but then, I never do have anything that looks like
other girls."
Hester was about to express herself contrary to this sentiment, when an
audacious remark from Erma caused her to fall back in silence.
"You see how it is, Hester," explained Erma later as the two walked arm
in arm down the hall. "Mame is the best dresser in school. She has the
best-made clothes and the best taste about choosing them, and you never
see a pin or hook loose. Yet we never yet have heard her say she was
satisfied. So we just concluded that we wouldn't encourage her. When she
begins to complain and find fault with her lot, we'd look as though we
pitied her. It isn't a bit of use of trying to convince her how lucky
she is.
"Now, I am always the other way." Here Erma paused long enough to laugh
merrily. "I'm satisfied with everything. My father is simply grand; I
just adore this old seminary, and I think the girls on our hall are the
sweetest things, and I never had a dress in all my life that wasn't
simply a dream."
The girls rejoiced with Hester, all except Berenice. She went through
with the form of congratulations, but her voice had a sarcastic touch
and her eyes had narrowed themselves into mere slits. Her words were a
little uncertain as to meaning; but Hester to whom all things appeared
beautiful, was in no mood to take exception.
"I'm sure I'm glad you're on the scrub," she said slowly. "I'm always
glad to see people get what they work so hard for."
"Thank you, Berenice. You girls have all been lovely. You do not have a
bit of jealousy about letting a 'freshie' step in ahead of some who have
been here two and three years."
"We want to win games," cried Louise Reed. "Whoever makes goals for us,
suits us whether she's a freshman or a senior. Get the pennant and we'll
carry you home on our shoulders."
They had come to Sixty-two. Erma and Mame in company with Berenice
walked on down the corridor.
"I'd love to have been put on; but since I wasn't I am glad that Hester
was. It was fair, too. She's played better than any other one on the
team. She gets excited but she doesn't lose her head."
Berenice sneered. "To get on the team, one must learn to toady," she
said. "No doubt if you had played lackey to Helen Loraine, you would
have been playing scrub."
Erma turned suddenly to look at the speaker. There was no laughter now
in either her eyes or voice as she, gazing steadily at Berenice, asked,
"Do you mean to say that Hester Alden plays lackey to Helen? Do you mean
to say that Helen would permit it if Hester were foolish enough to do
so, and furthermore do you mean to say that Hester was not chosen for
the simple reason that she is the steadiest player among the
substitutes?"
Berenice shrugged her shoulders. Her little beady eyes had their lashes
drawn down upon them until they had narrowed into a mere slit.
"How you do fly up, Erma! I really did not think you had such a temper;
but one thing you may rest assured of: it is always you sweet girls who
fly into a passion at the slightest word."
"I have never posed as being a sweet girl, and I am not in a passion
now. I have asked you a question which you have evaded. You have
insinuated things about girls who call me their friend and I will never
let such matters pass. I wish you to answer my question before we go one
step further."
Erma stood still. The others did as she did. Berenice laughed lightly.
"How very silly. A perfect tempest in a tea-cup simply because I choose
to get off a joke."
"If that is a joke, it is in horribly bad taste," was Erma's retort.
"You are unjust, Erma. How many times have I heard you laugh at Helen
for trying to stand in with the teachers, and for letting Mame copy her
translations."
"Hundreds of times, but you always heard me laugh and jest when the
girls themselves were present and when every one who heard, knew that it
was mere fun. It was mere give and take between every one of our set who
were present. You have yet to hear me criticise an absent girl, or jest
about her."
Again Berenice shrugged her shoulders as though she would dismiss the
subject.
"I am glad I am not ugly-tempered," she said and walked away without a
backward glance at the others. For a moment, Erma was wounded. Then the
humor of the situation came to her. She laughed until the silvery echoes
rang from one end of the corridor to the other; and the girls begged to
be quiet lest the hall-teacher follow in their footsteps and they be
sentenced to solitary confinement on the campus.
After receiving the congratulations of her friends, Hester had gone to
her room. Helen was busy preparing a lesson for the session the
following morning.
"Of course, you know what has happened," cried Hester. "Of course you
do. I can see by your eyes. Miss Watson sent for me to come to her and
then told me. I knew who proposed my name. It was you, Helen Loraine. I
cannot possibly thank you, and I never in the world can repay you."
Flinging her arms about her roommate's neck, Hester embraced her warmly
all the while declaring that she would never be able to repay her.
"Yes, you surely can," said Helen. "Play a good game and justify my
recommending you. That will please me best of all."
"I shall do that for your sake, for my own, and for the team's."
Helen stood silent a moment, considering whether she had better tell
Hester all her plans. She decided that she would and drawing Hester down
on the cosy corner, which had been improvised from trunks, she
continued: "For several reasons you must play well the next two weeks.
Three weeks from next Saturday, we play the girls from Exeter Hall. They
are the hardest squad we'll meet. Their coach is a college woman and a
specialist in physical culture and athletics. The Exeter team is the
best-trained one we'll come up against. We'll take along four
substitutes. Maud plays well for the first half, but she tires easily. I
intend to substitute for her on the second half, and if you justify my
doing it, I'll let you take her place."
"Really?" That one word was all that Hester Alden could command at that
moment; but it spoke volumes. To the girl it seemed as though the one
ambition of her school life was about to be fulfilled--to play on the
first team.
She did not consider herself alone in this. Aunt Debby was always first
in her thoughts. Ever since Mary Bowerman had taunted her with being a
waif, Hester had realized how much the foster aunt had done for her, and
what sacrifice of time and money, she had made. The one way which Hester
saw to repay the obligation, was to do those things which would reflect
credit on the Alden name. Playing on the first team would do that very
thing for never before in the history of Dickinson, had a freshman been
so honored.
Hester had reached such a degree of happiness that she lacked expression
either by words or motion. She could but sit still in the cosy corner,
her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes looking steadily before her.
So she sat for some minutes but in those minutes, she anticipated every
play in the coming game. She saw the goals she would make; she could
hear the referee call out the score and read the figures which the score
makers were writing down. She could see Aunt Debby sitting in the
gallery; she could hear the applause which swept over the hall.
"Really? Do you really think there is the least chance for me?" she
asked at last.
"I really think so. I might say I am quite sure," replied Helen. "Miss
Watson always permits me to choose my substitutes. I would almost
promise but--"
"Don't promise. I would not have you do that. During the next two weeks
I might lose my head and not play well at all," she said.
"I'm not afraid of that," replied Helen. "But it does not seem fair to
the other girls to have me pledge myself to you, before you have had a
single practice on the scrub. I try to be just, but sometimes I am
afraid I am a little partial in choosing the ones I love best. Because
you are you, I might be unjust to the others. Do you understand why I
would rather not promise, little roommate?"
"Yes, I know."
The subject ended there. Helen went back to her work. Hester tried to
keep her mind upon her books; but one might as well have tried to charm
a butterfly. Her thoughts flew from the game to Aunt Debby, and back to
Helen and the attitude she had taken in regard to the game.
Hester had no doubt that Helen had a great affection for her. There had
been some sweet and gentle evidence of it since the first week of
school. Hester was beginning to understand what the girls had tried to
convey to her that first day of school, when Sara had declared that
Helen had such an air. It was the grace which was the expression of fine
breeding, intellect and kindliness of heart.
As Hester thought of these things, she could have gone down on her knees
to Helen just as she would have done to Aunt Debby.
"We'll be friends all our life. Whatever happens, we will never quarrel.
It is lovely to have a friend like Helen." These were the thoughts which
came to Hester. Inspired by them to express herself, she opened a
note-book and under the date of the month and year, she wrote what had
been in her thoughts.
Helen was one who had much affection in her nature, but was never
sentimental. She was intensely practical when it came to her work.
After her talk with Hester about the work on the team, her mind turned
to the petty details, the fulfillment of which meant success.
"I wear my gray basket-ball suit when we play with an outside team," she
said to Hester. "You have never seen it. It has D. S. in gold and blue
letters. Dickinson Seminary. It looks well, and the suits are really
pretty. Mine, however, is beginning to show wear. I have had it for
three years. The last time we played over at Kermoor, a hook came loose
on the shoulder where my waist fastens. It was a trifle but it almost
caused me to lose that game. It pestered me until I could scarcely think
of anything else. I made up my mind then that I'd never be placed in
such a position again. While I have it in mind, I am going over those
hooks and eyes and sew them so tight that they cannot possibly give."
"Why not come out on the campus now, Helen? The girls are going to walk
along the river's edge as far as the campus reaches and then climb over
the hill and come back the other way. Miss Watson will come with us."
"If I do I'll neglect those hooks. I had my gym work to-day and do not
need exercise. You run along and I'll discipline myself about the
hooks." She laughed softly at her own remarks.
"Very well. If you will not, you will not," replied Hester, drawing on
her red sweater and Tam-o-Shanter. "I'll be off or I'll keep them
waiting, and you know Miss Watson does not approve of that."
She went her way down the hall. She was a picture good to look at, and
which would have pleased more eyes than the partial ones of Debby Alden.
Upon Hester's departure, Helen went to her sewing. The gray gymnasium
suit hung in a public press at the end of the hall, and it took her some
time to find her own among the others which hung there. Her needles and
thread were at hand, but hooks and eyes were lacking. She found that the
waist required several additional hooks and what were in place hung by a
mere thread.
"I have a card of hooks somewhere," she said to herself. "I remember
distinctly putting in everything in the line of mending that I might
possibly need. I remember now. What I thought I would not need often, I
put in the bottom of the closet."
The closet floor held quite an assortment of boxes. Articles which the
girls used seldom, had been stored here out of the way. Helen remembered
that a box with hooks and eyes, buttons and glove-silk had been placed
in there, early in the fall when she had unpacked the trunk.
She and Hester had been careful about not infringing upon each other's
closet room. Each had her allotted space and number of hooks; but
keeping the floor divided was not so easy. Boxes had been moved and
shoved about until it was impossible to know whose they were.
Helen sat down on the floor and began a systematic search; in turn
opening each box and examining its contents. It required system for the
boxes were many and the confusion great. There were handkerchief boxes,
spool, candy, and shoe boxes of all sizes and conditions.
She had opened each one without discovering the articles which she
needed. She was about to put them back in their places when a little
dark covered box, hidden deep in the corner, attracted her eyes. Without
a thought that she might be infringing on someone's else right, she took
up the box and opened it. She gave a sharp exclamation at the sight of
its contents. She sat with it opened in her hand, looking at it
steadily. Then she replaced the lid and put the box with the contents
just as she had found them, back in the corner. She put the floor of the
closet in order, and then went back to her work. She found her card of
hooks and eyes in the bottom of her sewing-bag. She was busy sewing them
on when Hester came in. They greeted each other as usual, yet Hester was
conscious that something was different.
"Are you ill, Helen?" she asked.
"No, Hester."
"Are you worried?"
"What should I have to worry me? You have been gone less than an hour.
What should happen in that time to make me either ill or anxious? I have
been putting the floor of the closet in order. I am afraid I opened
some of your boxes, but I did not disturb their contents."
"No matter if you did. I am glad the closet is in order. It surely
needed some attention." Going to the door she flung it wide. "How nice
it looks. The boxes piled up like a shoe-store. I wonder how long it
will remain that way."
Helen watched her closely. Hester must indeed be a capital actor, for
she had showed neither anxiety nor embarrassment at hearing that Helen
had opened the boxes.
After dinner that evening, no conversations were carried on between the
two girls. Helen, contrary to her habit, went directly to her room and
did not mingle with her friends in the library or parlor. She was in her
study garb and presumably deep in study when Hester came back to her
room. She neither spoke nor raised her eyes at Hester's entrance. Her
eyes were upon the text, but she was not studying. She was reviewing
certain little incidents of Hester's being with her. A score of trifles
to which she had then given no thought, now appeared in gigantic
proportion with most pretentious signs. Hester had shown no interest
whatever when the pin had been lost. She had not helped look for it.
Just before the holidays, Helen remembered it clearly now, she had found
Hester in the closet. Hester had blushed and stammered and appeared much
confused and had replied curtly to Helen's questions. It was really very
suspicious. Helen did not like to think of such matters. She had no
desire to think evil of any one; but the evidence was there. She could
not go past that. She had trusted Hester, and had really loved her.
Hereafter she would trust and love no one.
Even after the close of the study hour, there was no opportunity for
conversation; for at the ringing of the half-hour bell, Helen, contrary
to her habit, went down the hall to the room of one of the seniors. She
did not ask Hester to accompany her and the latter was hurt by the
omission. They had been together almost six months and in that time such
a thing had never before occurred.
Hester slowly made ready for bed. The fumes of chocolate and fudge in
the making were wafted to her from the rooms at the lower end of the
hall, and the chatter and laugh came with them. No one called her to
come. She felt forsaken and lonely. Such occasions previous to this, she
had not waited until a special invitation had been given her, but joined
and helped with the merry-making. She felt that something stood between
her and Helen. Just what that something was, she did not know, nor could
she surmise. There was nothing tangible for her thoughts to work upon to
reach a conclusion. She instinctively felt that something was wrong. In
this particular case, instinct was stronger than reason. She crept into
bed, although the retiring bell had not rung. The two little iron cots
stood side by side with only a narrow space between them. Helen had
always been the deliberate one of the two. Hester was generally in bed
before Helen had finished her reading. It had been the latter's habit to
come to Hester's bed and softly kissing her on the forehead to whisper,
"Good-night, little roommate."
It was for this good-night that Hester was waiting. She would insist
then upon knowing what troubled Helen or what had gone wrong to cause
this feeling of alienation. She would have cried had not her pride
sustained her. The tears were very near the surface but she forced them
back. She would cry for no one, no matter how that one treated her.
A few moments before the retiring bell, Helen came into the bedroom.
Knowing that she was late and that the lights would soon be turned off,
she prepared hastily for bed. She did not once glance toward Hester, but
that might have been because she was hurried. While Hester lay and
watched her, the lights went out. She heard Helen laugh softly and say,
"Just in time. I just gave the last turn to my hair."
Then she moved toward the cot, but she moved toward the outside and not
near that of her roommate. Hester was overcome with homesickness. Her
pride took to itself, wings. Raising herself in bed, she turned toward
Helen.
"Have you forgotten something, Helen? Are you not going to bid me
good-night?"
"Surely. Good-night, Hester."
"But not that way, Helen. I mean the way you always have done."
There was silence for an instant. To Hester it seemed as though hours
had passed before Helen replied gently and firmly, "Not to-night,
Hester. I--I--cannot--to-night."