ENTERTAINING GEORGIA’S SISTER
Georgia Ames was blue about something. As the spring term wore on
toward June she grew absent and pensive to a marked degree. It wasn’t
that she was a senior; Georgia Ames wasn’t the sort to mope because
college was almost over for her. Besides, she and Lucile Merrifield and
the Dutton twins were going to Lucile’s camp in the Maine woods for a
long, blissful summer. That certainly wasn’t a prospect to make you
dread the plunge into the wide, wide world. It was only the girls who
didn’t know what was coming next, or who knew and didn’t like it, who
moped through their last spring term.
The Duttons were pathetically worried about Georgia’s low spirits.
Straight suggested a doctor; Fluffy adroitly sounded Georgia on the
subject of conditions, and discussed the ethics of “flunking out”
seniors exhaustively, until Georgia suggested mildly that the subject
wasn’t of any great interest to her.
“I’m thankful to say I’ve never had to worry about flunking,” she said,
“and none of our crowd has either--oh, I forgot Eugenia Ford when she
was a freshman. But that was pure silliness.”
So the matter of conditions was definitely eliminated.
“Maybe she’s in love,” suggested Montana Marie, who was present one day
when the subject was discussed. “Being in love makes you feel--well,
queer. And if it’s not returned----”
“What a little goose you are, Marie, on the subject of men,” Timmy
Wentworth told her shortly. “No sensible girl like G. Ames goes around
wearing her heart on her sleeve. Besides, Georgia doesn’t care for men
at all. She often says that she came to college in the first place
because there wouldn’t be any men around.”
“She did!” sighed Montana Marie. “What a queer reason! I----”
“Oh, yes, do tell us why you came,” Straight Dutton broke in, as Marie
hesitated.
“Why I came?” repeated Marie gaily. “Oh, yes, I’ll tell you that with
pleasure. I came to complete my education, of course.” When Straight
gave a disappointed little shrug, Marie giggled riotously. “Sorry you
don’t like my reason,” she concluded, drawing down the corners of her
pretty mouth in an absurd imitation of extreme grief.
It was little Binks Ames, with her queer talent for making strange
discoveries, who finally found out what was worrying Georgia. And she
took the matter to the most wonderful person about troubles that she
knew: namely, Miss Betty Wales.
“You see,” said Binks solemnly, “Constance Ames is the pretty, society
kind of girl. But she’s awfully bright, too. She’s five years younger
than Georgia; so she’ll be a year younger in entering college. That is,
if she will come, when she’s ready, in the fall. But she won’t. She
has an idea that college is awfully solemn and serious and studious,
and she says she’d rather go to boarding-school, where the girls are
lively, even if there are a lot of rules. And Georgia feels dreadfully.
She’s always thought it would be such fun having Constance here after
she’s graduated.”
“You’ll be here, anyway,” laughed Betty.
“Oh, but I don’t count,” little Binks explained quite seriously. “At
least not like a younger sister that you can come up with in September,
and send boxes to, and introduce to your friends, and talk it all over
with in vacations. Besides, I’m--I’m queer. So I don’t really count at
all.”
“I see.” Betty was as serious as Binks. “Why doesn’t Georgia have her
little sister up here for a visit? She’d be sure to have a splendid
time, and then she’d want to enter college. Has she put in her
application for the campus?”
Binks nodded. “Georgia did it for her the minute she saw how nice
Harding is. The reason Georgia doesn’t have her up is because she’s
afraid to. You see, Constance belongs to a crowd of boys and girls who
have a lot going on all the time, and Georgia is afraid--well, to tell
the truth, Constance is man-crazy. She doesn’t think you can have a
good time with just girls. And of course when you don’t expect a good
time and act offish and disagreeable, why, you don’t have a good time,”
ended Binks acutely.
Betty nodded. “And Georgia is afraid Constance would feel and act that
way if she came for the visit. She might, of course. I don’t quite see
what I can do about it, but I’ll think. I certainly ought to come to
Georgia’s rescue once, when she’s always coming to mine.”
“She was just awfully proud of being elected Georgia-to-the-Rescue,”
confided Binks. “She said she was as proud of that as of being taken
into Dramatic Club.”
“Really?” Betty flushed with pleasure. “What a foolish, sweet way to
feel about just helping me! Well, I’ll think hard about the man-struck
Constance. We’ll both think hard, and perhaps we can think of a way to
rescue Georgia.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can,” said Binks with touching confidence. “The thing
to do is to make Constance expect a good time, isn’t it, Miss Wales?
Because then she couldn’t help liking Harding, especially in spring
term.”
Yes, that was clearly the thing to do, Betty agreed, and Binks,
remembering suddenly that Miss Wales was very busy and quite capable of
making her own deductions about what to do in regard to Constance, took
a blushing departure.
That same afternoon the B. C. A.’s gathered informally in the top story
of the Peter Pan annex; and when the matter of Georgia’s blues came up,
Betty told them in confidence what Binks had discovered.
“Whatever is done will have to be done right away,” she added, “because
campus rooms are assigned early in June, and when Constance gets hers I
suppose she will give it up. If she should change her mind later about
coming to college, she couldn’t get back her chance at the room. She
would have to apply all over again, and that means that she wouldn’t be
on the campus before her senior year, if she was then.”
“Foolish young Constance!” said Mary scornfully. “The idea of thinking
that Harding girls are less fun than boarding-school chits.”
“The idea of thinking that there isn’t time enough later on for men,”
sniffed Babbie, playing with her engagement ring.
“The idea of thinking that she won’t change her mind about men and
most other things, while she’s here,” added little Helen Adams, with a
comical air of vast experience.
“Georgia ought to be game and take the risk of having foolish young
Constance up for a week,” declared Christy Mason. “We’d get her so
properly excited that she’d forget the name of her best particular
suitor.”
Madeline listened to these comments with an air of polite detachment.
Finally she rose from her place and crawled over Betty to the Peter Pan
staircase. “Talk about something else until I get back,” she ordered.
“I’m going down to the Tally-ho desk to write a letter for Georgia to
send to Constance.”
It was fully twenty minutes before Madeline reappeared, waving the
letter in her hand.
“Want to hear it?” she asked. “It’s nothing much, but I’m pretty sure
it will get young Constance. Listen now, and don’t ask questions,
because I won’t answer.
“DEAR CONSTANCE:
“Can’t you come up next Thursday for a week? I shall be rather
busy then--seniors are terribly busy in spring term (having a good
time)--but Billy Barstow is to be here that week, and is crazy to
meet you and show you the place. Timmy Wentworth wants to take you
canoeing. Dickie Drake is coming up to see a sister or a cousin or
something, and you two can go buggy-riding mornings, while cousin
and I are at classes. (Of course you know you’re not allowed to go
buggy-riding with a man after you enter.) You’re also invited to a
fraternity dance at Winsted,--not particularly exciting; so perhaps,
unless you’re coming up next year and want to meet some Winsted men,
it wouldn’t pay you to go. Let me know whether to accept for you.
“But at all events, don’t fail to come up.
“GEORGIA.
“P. S.--Of course all my friends are planning to do things for you.
Don’t let them know that girls bore you, because it would hurt their
feelings so.”
Madeline folded the letter carefully and tucked it up her sleeve for
safe-keeping. “Rather nice on the whole, isn’t it?” she said. “It does
just what Binks astutely pointed out must be done. It brings young
Constance to Harding in an expectant and receptive frame of mind.”
“She may be angry when she finds she’s been fooled,” suggested Christy.
Madeline stared at her blankly. “You don’t really mean,” she began
at last, “that you doubt the combined ability of the B. C. A.’s,
Timmy Wentworth, Dickie Drake, Billy Barstow, the Dutton twins, and
the best frat. in Winsted to give foolish young Constance the time of
her gay young life? If she is any kind of a girl she will think we’re
the very best jokers she ever heard of. The Duttons are down in the
Tally-ho waiting to carry the letter to Georgia, and if she likes the
idea they’re going to take charge of the program--select entertainers,
assign stunts and hours, and all that. Eugenia Ford is going to attend
to the Winsted end. There’s no fooling about that dance, Christy. It’s
the most gorgeous affair of the Winsted season, Eugenia says, and she
is sure she can get an invitation for Constance. Any more objections?”
There were no more objections. As the full beauty of Madeline’s plan
dawned upon the other B. C. A.’s, there were shrieks of delight, offers
of assistance, and suggestions for novel stunts likely to appeal
particularly to the temperament of foolish young Constance. Presently
the Duttons trilled from below, and the letter was ceremoniously
lowered in the Peter Pan basket, amid great excitement.
“We forgot Bob Blake,” Straight called up. “She’ll be splendid to help.”
“All right, but don’t alter the letter. We can mention her at the
station,” Madeline called down; and the twins and Eugenia hurried off
to the Belden to find Georgia.
* * * * *
It was on the loveliest of May afternoons, a week later, that Constance
Ames alighted with much youthful dignity from the Boston train, to find
herself fairly surrounded by a noisy bevy of girls,--girls quite as
pretty and quite as stylish as young Constance, girls whose flattering
speeches of welcome made her blush, whose jokes made her laugh, and
whose breezy energy packed her and her bag, together with six or seven
of themselves, into a trim runabout and rushed her off to the Tally-ho
for refreshment, before she had had time to explain that she was hot
and dusty and would rather go straight to her room,--before she met any
more girls or any men.
The Tally-ho was so fascinating and the food so good that Constance
decided not to say anything about leaving in a hurry. And then all at
once the Dutton twins, whom chemistry lab. had prevented from meeting
Constance at the station, burst upon the scene.
“Eugenia Ford has a car up for the rest of the term--a big snorting red
one, with a rumbly horn and a funny French chauffeur. She wants any ten
of us to go riding in it, in honor of Georgia’s sister.”
“How do you do, Georgia’s sister?” added Straight gravely. “Awfully
nice to have you here to give parties for. Eugenia has an extra veil in
the car for you. She says for everybody to leave their hats here, to
save room.”
“We’ll have eats at Mossy Glen.”
“Who’s seen to the food?”
“Over the Notch by moonlight and home through Winsted, to let John Ford
see his little cousin splurge. She’s telephoned him to be on the watch
for us.”
“Timmy Wentworth can’t get away this evening to go canoeing, so
Eugenia’s party just fits in.”
“Wouldn’t Miss Constance Ames like a wash and a brush in Betty’s
private dressing room? She looks extra-specially spick and span, but
traveling in the heat always makes a person feel messy.”
Constance went off with Betty and Madeline, and Georgia went out to
break the news to Eugenia that Constance generally took hours and hours
to prink up. To her amazement and relief Constance appeared within five
minutes.
During the ride there were frequent, though vague, references to
Timmy and Dick and Billy. Everybody in the party seemed to know and
like them, and they seemed to have planned all sorts of delightful
entertainment for Constance. Timmy, Fluffy Dutton declared solemnly,
would be simply heart-broken at having to postpone the canoeing trip on
Paradise, which had been planned for the first evening of Constance’s
visit.
“I’m having a beautiful time, all the same,” Constance assured Fluffy
eagerly. “I just love motoring. And I’m very anxious to see Winsted.”
But a bad puncture, necessitating a long delay, put the détour to
Winsted out of the evening’s program. How much Madeline’s firm
determination that Winsted should be kept for the dessert of
Constance’s visit, as it were, had to do with the French chauffeur’s
deliberation in repairing the puncture, is a matter for idle
speculation.
Next morning Constance was awakened with a start by a huge bunch of
wild forget-me-nots, which hurtled in at her window, and plopped down
beside her on the bed.
“How lovely!” murmured Constance, burying her face in the big blue
bouquet. “And a note hidden in them! What fun! Just like a story.”
The note was from Timmy Wentworth. “Your sister is busy all this
morning. She says you are to take breakfast at nine at Cuyler’s with
the Misses Dutton. They will call for you. At ten won’t you meet me at
the boat-house for our paddle? It will give me such pleasure. Timmy
Wentworth.”
Constance dressed with eager haste. The Duttons were in their liveliest
mood. Cuyler’s waffles fairly melted in your mouth. And at ten she was
going canoeing with Timmy Wentworth!
The Duttons escorted her as far as the top of Observatory Hill, and
having pointed out the boat-house, departed unceremoniously for a
ten o’clock quiz. Constance consulted a tiny mirror that hung from
her silver chain, smoothed her hair, straightened her coat collar,
and walked leisurely down, through the campus gardens and past the
famous frog pond, to Paradise. At the top of the boat-house stairs
she paused and looked to see if Timmy was waiting. It was too dark
inside the boat-house to see any one, but on the railing perched a
tall, merry-faced girl in a blue and white jumper, who waved friendly
greetings. She must have been one of the crowd at the station,
Constance reflected, and she waved back cordially as she hurried down
the stairs.
[Illustration: A TALL, MERRY-FACED GIRL]
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” The tall girl’s firm hand-shake made Constance
wince. “And the woods are full of flowers. Fluffy and I were out before
breakfast getting a boatful for the Belden House senior tea. We stole
out a bunch for you. Shall we be off?”
“Ye-es,” stammered Constance. “That is, I was expecting----”
“How stupid!” broke in the tall girl eagerly. “I forgot to say that I’m
Felicia Wentworth, commonly known as Timmy for no reason under the
sun. Now shall we be off?”
“Oh, yes,” said Constance hastily, too proud to show either
astonishment or disappointment. It was an entertaining trip, too, in
spite of everything. Timmy was not at all Constance’s idea of a college
grind. She had just come back from a Dartmouth prom. She was going home
next Saturday to see about her junior usher dress, and incidentally
to star in an amateur vaudeville performance at the Country Club her
family belonged to. It appeared that amateur vaudeville shows, tennis,
canoeing, and going to “stunty” house-parties--she was going to “a duck
of a one” in June--were Timmy’s chief diversions. Yet she confided to
Constance that she was hoping hard to make the Phi Kappa honor list
next year, and that she had spent the previous afternoon in “digging
fiercely” on a philosophy paper, because “if you had a good head for
books what was the use of muddling along?”
“The fun here is in pulling off the work and still getting in the fun,”
she assured Constance, paddling up a tiny bay, whose banks were blue
with forget-me-nots. Timmy dropped her paddle, brushed the hair out of
her eyes, and smiled engagingly at young Constance. “You understand
what I mean, of course,” she flattered adroitly. “I can see that
you’re not the muddling kind. Anyway Georgia says you are very clever.
Well, all I say is, look at me and don’t worry about the good times we
have. Now shall we get the Belden a little more forget-me-not for its
sentimental senior party?”
Constance spoke enthusiastically to Georgia of Paradise and Miss
Wentworth. She dropped not a hint of surprises or disappointments.
That afternoon Billy Barstow, a petite, pretty sophomore, with a
distinctly frivolous air, took Constance for a stroll round the campus.
It was hot, and they spent most of the time in the gym. basement,
watching the divers in the swimming-tank and exchanging confidences
about many things. Billy was secretly bored, but she concealed it so
well that Constance decided Billy should be her first crush. Billy
had put this idea into her head by explaining how Georgia had been
her first crush. Dickie Drake appeared a day or two later. She wasn’t
pretty, but she was very distinguished-looking, Constance decided. She
was also engaged, and willing to talk about Tom to anybody who would
listen,--even to Georgia’s sub-freshman sister.
“She’ll get her self-consciousness knocked out of her in short order up
here,” Dick assured the cousin whom she had come to visit. “And then
she’ll be a very nice child. Remember what a detestable little prig I
was when I came up--a snob and man-crazy and insufferably lazy. And
they turned me out a rather decent sort--not half good enough for Tom,
but much improved.”
Everybody agreed that young Constance showed the proper spirit in
ignoring the base deception that had been practiced upon her, and
in appearing to enjoy every minute of her week in Harding. Even
the stony-hearted Madeline admitted that she had richly earned her
Winsted dessert. And so the most select frat. in Winsted found its
end-of-the-season dance mysteriously turned into an ovation for a
pretty sub-freshman friend of Eugenia Ford’s. As the sub-freshman
was undeniably a “winner,” the frat. forgave John Ford for making
such a fuss about her, and promptly added her name to the next year’s
guest-list. Which meant that foolish young Constance would not pine
away for lack of masculine society, if she decided to enter Harding in
the fall.
“It’s queer about nicknames,” said Straight Dutton, waving her
handkerchief after Constance’s Boston-bound train. “It’s queer how many
nicest girls get tagged with boys’ names. Young Constance has confided
to Georgia that she’ll have a try at Harding. Now what got her was that
Timmy and Dickie and Bill and Bob Blake are all the finest ever. If
they hadn’t been, everything would have gone to smash. It’s certainly
queer how many nicest girls get nicknamed Bob and Bill and Dickie.”
“The reason,” said Madeline wisely, “is that the very nicest girls are
all-around nice--not sissy nice, or young-lady nice, or clever nice,
but nice every way,--and just as good fun to play about with as any
man in the world. And the rest of us notice that, without stopping to
analyze it, and call them Bob or Billy.”
“Um--maybe you’re right,” said Straight slowly. “I presume you are.
All I know for sure is that we’ve scored. Hurray for Billy and Bob and
Dickie and Timmy! Hurrah for we, us, and company that planned it all!
Hurray for Harding!”