The Dean Decides
Breakfast was, if anything, duller and more gloomy than usual. So many
"shining morning faces" only made the three freshmen involved in the
escapade of the night before more nervous. When the meal was over and
Arden, Sim, and Terry were waiting in the dean's outer office, they were
almost sick with dread.
"Come in, young ladies!" Tiddy opened the door to the inner sanctum
herself and, with an almost imperious gesture of her lean brown hand,
waved the three in ahead of her.
The office was large and bright. Green carpet covered the floor to the
uttermost corners. The windows were draped with neutral-toned curtains.
The founder of the college, in the form of a highly-varnished oil
painting of a stern-faced, dark-featured and white-haired man, looked
down at the three from a vantage point over the dean's desk.
Miss Anklon asked and noted down the names of her visitors, though they
were quite sure she well knew them already. She began:
"This prank of yours, my dear girls, is something we do not countenance
at this college. You were put upon your honor when you went into New York
and were expected to return as your classmates did."
She looked sternly over the tops of her glasses. Then she resumed:
"If I remember correctly, you two were in your night clothes and this
young lady was still dressed. Is that right?" She directed her gaze
specifically at Sim.
"Yes, Miss Anklon," Sim answered in a weak voice.
"Perhaps you will explain yourself, then."
"I never thought it would cause so much trouble," Sim began. "When I
learned that the sophomores didn't make as much money at the dance as
they hoped to, I just decided to go to my father and ask him for it." She
paused uncertainly. "I came to this college, instead of going to some
other, because I hope to become--" she paused and then went on--"because
the swimming pool looked so lovely in the catalog." Sim glanced shyly at
the dean, whose face betrayed none of her feelings. It was no time to
speak of expert diving ambitions.
"That is hardly a reason for coming to college, Miss Westover. But go on
with your story. Why were you returning at such a late hour?"
"My father wasn't where I thought he would be, and I forgot to leave the
notes I wrote, explaining my absence and--and----"
Gradually Sim blurted out the whole story, Arden and Terry now and then
adding a little to the telling. When Sim finally ended her recital, Miss
Anklon was as stony as before. She sat behind her polished desk and
looked at the girls more sternly than ever.
"I believe you have told me the truth, Miss Westover, although it seems
strange you should be so heedless." Miss Anklon tapped her desk with a
pencil. "You other girls were almost as much to blame as Miss Westover.
If anything had happened, you would have been responsible. While you are
here in this college we are entrusted with your welfare."
She paused a moment, looked up at the dark-faced founder as if for
inspiration, and continued:
"Besides the seriousness of your act, I must tell you that you three
girls do not seem to be starting your college life in the right spirit.
Although you have been here for only a short time, you have already
attracted some, shall I say, undesirable attention? Yes, that is it.
Those stories about the orchard were your doing--am I not right?"
This time the dean looked directly at Arden.
"They were not stories, Miss Anklon," Arden began. "We really were chased
by something while we were in the garden gathering apples as a hazing
stunt. And we did find the gardener's helper lying wounded on the
ground."
The dean bowed her head in frosty acquiescence and said:
"It would have been better if you had come to me and told me of
your--your experiences, instead of telling them to so many impressionable
girls. Do you know I have received letters from several worried parents
as a result of your spreading of this tale?"
"We tried not to talk of it, Miss Anklon, but it got around in some way.
I think everyone in the college would like to know what really happened
in the orchard." This time it was Terry who spoke with all the dignity at
her command.
"As to that, Miss Landry, the gardener, Tom, fell over a tree root, so I
am told, and struck his head. Anything that chased you must have been a
product of your too vivid imagination."
"Oh, no--no, Miss Anklon!" Arden was emphatic in her denial, but the dean
held up a quieting, protesting hand. Arden looked at Sim as if to say:
"I'd like to tell her how it hurt when I sat down hard upon those
stones!"
The dean, seeming to gather herself together for a final statement of the
case, said:
"All this has nothing to do with your latest escapade. I regret very much
that I must take this action, but I am forced to tell you that all three
of you will be campused for three weeks and lose all your privileges."
Miss Anklon was stern and unsmiling. "I do not wish you to tell your
classmates of your foolish experience, Miss Westover. It is best kept
quiet. You may all go now."
For several seconds the three freshmen stood facing the dean but saying
nothing. The severity of their punishment was so great that they were
stricken speechless. No going into town to shop or to the movies. No
week-end guests. And not to leave the college grounds at all for three
weeks!
"Miss Anklon," Sim was the first to speak, "you don't know how much my
swimming means to me. I realize, now, how wrong I was to go away without
permission, but Arden and Terry----"
"That will do, Miss Westover, I have made my decision!" Tiddy was at her
fearful worst. "Good-morning!" The girls realized that the interview was
over and that the decision was final.
Responding with almost whispered "good-mornings," the three left the
office and walked slowly toward the tennis courts. With one accord they
sat on a white-painted bench and gazed moodily at a spirited doubles
game.
The ping of the balls seemed to find echoes in the dull throbbings of
their hearts.
"I suppose we were fortunate not to be expelled," Arden said timidly,
after a long silence.
"We might just as well have been. We can't go anywhere. We can't do
anything. Added to that, we can't even swim!" Sim was quite unhappy as
she answered Arden's attempted philosophy.
"Don't take it so to heart, Sim," Terry advised. "We're all in the same
boat. We can have lots of fun here, just the same. It will be a good
chance for me to get caught up on my French."
"That's the spirit!" exclaimed Arden. "We can give more time to solving
the mystery of the orchard. And I'll have that pool fixed yet: you'll
see!"
"You mean with the reward money you're going to get for finding that
missing Pangborn chap?" asked Sim.
"Yes," Arden nodded.
"We haven't done a thing toward that yet," spoke Terry. "We don't even
know whether or not he has been found, restored to his worried friends,
and the reward paid to someone else. Don't you think we had better check
up on it?"
"Yes, we must," Arden agreed. "And though we can't leave the campus even
to go to the post office and see if that reward poster is still there,
still, perhaps we can do something. They can't keep us out of the
orchard, anyhow."
"Except that I'm not going there again at night, not for ten swimming
pools!" declared Terry.
"Nor I," Sim added. "But I don't suppose," she went on, "that the mystery
or the terror, or whatever you want to call it, of the orchard has
anything to do with the missing man and the thousand dollars reward, do
you, Arden?"
"I don't know."
"What a delicious mystery it would be if it worked out that way, wouldn't
it?" exclaimed Terry.
"If you're making fun of my well-meant efforts," spoke Arden a trifle
stiffly, "why, I----"
"Oh, not at all!" Terry made haste to say, Sim chiming in with a murmured
denial also. "And we're going to help you all we can as soon as this
horrid campusing is over. Really, there must be some reason for thinking
this missing young man might be in this neighborhood, or it wouldn't have
said so on the poster."
"Arden has the right of it there," Sim declared, "and it's sweet of both
of you not to mind this so much. But I feel very badly about it. I got
you into trouble, and I got Tiddy down on all of us." Sim was impatiently
kicking a clump of grass. "Well, we can't do anything about it now. So
let's go back and write the real story home before our families have a
chance to hear it from Tiddy."