BELL NIGHT
Classes started and with them the Freshmen’s troubles. New
acquaintances, new scenes, new studies, and new instructors came with
such rapidity that the girls were dizzy with it all. Carol and Janet
were in the same dormitory building as Valerie and Madge. Consequently
their close friendship was by no means interrupted. Gale and Phyllis
went to see their friends quite often. When they were in their own room
they found that Ricky Allen and her roommate joined them frequently. The
girls were fast becoming friends.
Ulrich Allen, Ricky to her friends, was a breezy, friendly girl from the
West and there was not a soul in the class who did not know all about
her. Her roommate was a quiet, sweet young girl from Georgia. Ricky took
pains to see to it that everyone should know about her, too.
Janet declared that Ricky was as clear and as unassuming as the country
from which she came. Nevertheless, Janet and Ricky could be seen with
heads close together very often, planning mischief or laughing over
their latest bit of gossip.
Gale, since the afternoon she had rescued the Dean from the lake, had
seen the older woman only once. On that occasion the Dean walked across
the campus to the library with her. It was something she would take care
not to let happen again, she told herself. It seemed that girls from the
sorority house had seen her. The upper classmen looked with the utmost
distaste upon such familiarity. They saw to it that Gale should regret
such friendliness with the head of the institution. She was teased
unmercifully and chided and scoffed at upon every occasion. Most of the
girls did it in fun, the fun that upper classmen usually have with a
Freshman, but one girl in particular seemed to personally resent Gale.
Marcia Marlette had been one of the very last Juniors to arrive for the
semester. She lived in Penthouse Row, the fourth floor, in a room
directly over Gale and Phyllis. She had heard the story of Gale and the
Dean. She had seen for herself that the Dean did smile and stop to talk
with Gale when such occasions presented themselves. She was one of the
girls who was voluble in her protestations against the new Dean. She had
been favored and especially privileged the two terms before. Now that
there was a new Dean and a new regime her privileges were swept away.
She was to be no more favored than any other girl. That didn’t please
Marcia, and since she couldn’t very well spite the Dean she decided to
torture Gale—supposedly a close friend of Dean Travis.
Gale bore the girls’ teasing silently, in amused indifference. She
didn’t mind the stunts she and Phyllis had to perform to appease their
sorority sisters, but from the minute Marcia Marlette appeared on the
campus things were different. Gale could bear the other girls’ teasing,
their songs, their sly pointed remarks, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t
stand for it from Marcia.
“I tell you, Phyl,” Gale said stormily, flinging her books onto her
desk, “I won’t stand for it. I’ll—I’ll tell Dean Travis.”
Phyllis smiled patiently. “Can’t do that, Gale. We’ve got to take it.
Our turn will come.”
“I know,” Gale said. She flung herself upon the bed and glared at the
ceiling. “But I will blow up and explode if Marcia Marlette doesn’t stay
away from me.”
“What has she been doing now?”
“Met me after Chemistry class and walked to the house with me—making
nasty remarks about the Dean all the while. I’ll—I’ll slap her face
some day,” Gale threatened.
“Whoa, there,” Ricky Allen murmured, sticking her head in at the open
door. “Who is gonna slap who?”
“Are we missing anything?” added Gloria Manson.
Gale sat up and laughed. “I am boiling over with suppressed wrath.”
“Only it isn’t suppressed any more,” Phyllis murmured. “Girls, you see
before you a volcano about to erupt.”
“Go ahead and erupt,” Ricky invited, settling herself comfortably on
Phyllis’ bed.
“What happened?” Gloria asked sympathetically.
Gale sat on the window sill and took a deep breath of the autumn air.
“That awful Junior has been pestering me again. I suppose it is only a
matter of months before I become immune to it.”
“That awful Junior heard what you said,” a voice declared nastily.
Gale put her head out the window and looked up. Marcia Marlette was
leaning out her window and grinning with exasperating superiority.
“Perhaps you would like to say it directly to me,” she invited.
Gale was not lacking in courage and her anger now made her more daring.
“Certainly I’ll say it,” she answered firmly. “I said you were pestering
me again. So what?”
The Junior’s face was more irritating.
“Freshmen are supposed to be polite to upper classmen—especially
sorority sisters. Rebellion will cost you a month’s special privileges.”
“But that isn’t fair!” Gale cried indignantly. “I didn’t do
anything—wait, Marcia——”
But the Junior had disappeared into her room. Gale swung about and
confronted the others. She strode to the door, but Phyllis preceded her.
With her back against the door Phyllis asked:
“Where are you going?”
“Up to Marcia’s room,” Gale said hotly. “I’m going to tell her a few
things! Things I’ve been aching to say ever since I first saw her. I’m
going——”
“You are going to stay right here,” Phyllis said calmly. “Sit down,
Gale, and get hold of your temper again. I never saw you so fiery. I
don’t know what Marcia might have done or said, but I’ll wager it was
only to make you angry. She wants you to do something like this. You
will only injure yourself in the end.”
“Ignore Marcia,” Ricky advised.
Gale submitted reluctantly to their advice. She knew it was wiser to
ignore Marcia’s slights and cutting remarks, but just the same she was
still angry. Her resentment was growing deeper every hour. Oh, she had
taken instant dislikes to people before, but she had never felt so
unreasonably, so thoroughly hateful toward another girl. The minute she
had seen Marcia stroll into the dining room on the night of the latter’s
arrival Gale could have told Phyllis she wouldn’t like her. Before
Marcia ever said a word to her, Gale felt resentment burning within her.
She didn’t know why. Then, when Marcia started to annoy her and Phyllis,
Gale more than ever disliked the Junior. So far she had been successful
in hiding it. She avoided all possible contact with Marcia, but after
all they were bound to meet sometimes. They sat at the same table at
dinner, and it was there Marcia was worst of all. Gale and Phyllis
accepted everything she said with a slight smile and silence. That only
seemed to make matters more difficult. Marcia was deliberately picking
an open quarrel and the upper classmen fully realized the position of
the Freshmen. Their attitude softened somewhat and for that the girls
were grateful. But it still did not solve the question of Marcia.
“Are you going out for hockey?” Gloria asked, idly thumbing Gale’s
Chemistry book.
“Sure,” Ricky declared, “aren’t we, Phyl?”
“I am,” Phyllis said. “How about you, Gale?”
“For class hockey? The first meeting is tomorrow afternoon.” With
difficulty Gale turned her attention to other things.
“We only have five minutes before dinner,” Gloria announced next.
Ricky dragged herself upright. “Shall we go downstairs and wait?”
Phyllis flung a hasty glance at Gale. If they went downstairs now Marcia
would most likely be there. It would be bad enough at dinner with her
sitting across from them.
“No,” Phyllis said vaguely, “I want to brush my hair and——”
“You had better hurry,” Gale murmured.
Phyllis remained close to Gale when they descended the stairs behind
Ricky and Gloria. The girls were moving toward the dining room. Phyllis
looked hastily around for Marcia. She was not in sight. When Phyllis
slipped into her seat beside Gale she looked across the table. Marcia’s
chair was empty.
“Where’s Marcia?” she murmured to the girl on her other side.
“She has permission to eat at the West Campus Dormitory,” was the
answer.
Phyllis sighed with relief. She did not want to see a quarrel between
Gale and Marcia. It would mean only trouble for Gale. Marcia was used to
having her own way, girls naturally catered to her. She would not stand
to be ignored by a Freshman. That Gale should be friends with the Dean
was all the more reason for Marcia to resent her. Last year Marcia had
been close to the old Dean. Marcia had had special privileges. She had
not been tied to the college grounds to observe the rules as the other
girls had. But now Dean Travis did not grant Marcia those special
privileges. Phyllis believed that was all that stood between the Dean
and popularity with some girls. A lot of the girls wanted special
privileges and the Dean did not grant them. Phyllis could not help but
admire the Dean for treating all the girls exactly the same. There would
be even more dissatisfaction if some girls were allowed to do things and
others weren’t.
Phyllis, upon learning that Gale and Marcia would not possibly meet
tonight and quarrel, was gay with relief.
“I know how you feel,” Gale murmured to her friend. “But you really
shouldn’t have worried, Phyl. I would never make a scene here—before
all the others.”
“Are you a mind reader? How did you know what I was thinking?” Phyllis
demanded.
Gale laughed. “You are an open book to me,” she giggled.
Phyllis sighed. “Woe is me! Nothing is a secret any more.”
The girls did not linger with the others long after dinner. They went to
their room, Phyllis to read and Gale to write letters. She owed one to
her parents, one to Miss Relso, who was still taking an interest in
their school life, and one to Brent Stockton. The one to Brent was the
longest and well it should be. Gale did not often see the young aviator
with whom she was so much in love, but their letters were long and
frequent and filled with many pictures.
“Send Brent my love,” Phyllis told her as she struggled into her
pajamas. “Doesn’t that make you jealous?” she wanted to know teasingly.
“No,” Gale said promptly. “I even sent him a picture of you—and me,”
she added.
“Foiled!” Phyllis murmured, smothering a yawn in the pillow, “Aren’t you
ever going to bed?”
“Lights-out bell hasn’t rung yet,” Gale reminded her.
“You can go to bed anyway,” Phyllis informed her. “The Dean won’t mind.”
“Go to sleep,” Gale laughed.
The moonlight came into the room with illuminating brilliance. The girls
slept peacefully, sweetly dreaming delightful dreams. The campus was
still with the peace of an autumn night. The sorority house was dark. It
was as if another world of glorious peace and accord had opened where
previously had been the trill of voices and patter of running feet. Now
nothing moved but the silent clouds over the moon and the gentle sifting
of leaves in the wind.
But suddenly the night was shattered by a bell, a bell riotous and loud,
somewhere close to the ear of the sleeping Phyllis. She sprang out of
bed with a shriek. Gale sat up and put her hands over her ears. Another
bell joined the first and together their voices made a clatter that
disturbed sleepers all over the building. Phyllis dashed wildly about,
seeking the cause of the clatter. She found an alarm clock under the
bed, whose bell was the cause of the initial outburst. She turned it off
while Gale sought the second bell. But Gale had no sooner found the
clock hidden in her suitcase than another bell broke forth and another
and another. The place was alive with bells, each louder and more shrill
than the one before.
The girls sat in the center of the floor and looked helplessly at one
another.
“Let ’em ring,” Phyllis advised.
“That’s all we can do,” Gale conceded laughingly. “I wonder whose idea
this was?”
“What?”
“I said——” Gale began to repeat patiently, but it was no use. Phyllis
could not hear her above the clatter. It seemed a million bells were
ringing. Never had the girls heard such a varied assortment of bell
sounds.
Gradually the bells began to stop. Gently the tinkling died out and the
girls climbed back into bed. But they were no sooner settled than the
loudest and most disturbing gong of all started.
“Sounds like a fire alarm,” Phyllis shouted.
She was hastily rummaging in her closet. Her search disclosed a big
alarm clock hidden in a hat box. She brought it out.
“How do you shut it off?” she yelled to Gale.
Gale shook her head, laughing. The two tried everything, but the most
effective was stuffing the clock under two pillows. That softened its
siren shriek somewhat.
“What a night!” Phyllis groaned, as she climbed back into bed. She very
slowly and carefully stuffed cotton in her ears. “I am going to sleep
the rest of the night even if the roof caves in!” she prophesied.
“What was going on in your room last night?” Ricky demanded the next
morning when she paid them a visit before breakfast.
“Somebody hid a hundred alarm clocks in here to scare us,” Phyllis
explained, crawling from under Gale’s bed. She had discovered two more
clocks.
“Going to start a store?” Gloria asked, motioning to the array of clocks
standing on Phyllis’ desk.
Phyllis shook her head. She opened the door and pushed a chair out into
the hall. On it she set all the clocks. In front of them she put a sign
“To be claimed,” and then they all went down to breakfast.
“Look!” Ricky pointed dramatically to the chair when they returned to
get their books for classes.
The chair was empty. The clocks were all gone.