THE NEW WOMAN AT HARDING
“Goodness! I’m glad I elected this sociology course.” Fluffy Dutton
precipitated herself through the half-open door of Timmy Wentworth’s
big corner double (universally called Timmy’s room, though half of
it, of course, belonged to Sallie Wright), tossed her note-book on
the table, dexterously extracted two fat cushions from behind Eugenia
Ford’s head, and as dexterously inserted them and herself on Sallie’s
couch, in a practically invisible vacancy between Straight and Montana
Marie O’Toole. There were plenty of other seats to choose from, but
Fluffy was intent on securing a central position as regards both the
conversation and the refreshments which her keen eyes had detected in
Susanna Hart’s lap.
There were loud remonstrances from Eugenia and Straight, amused giggles
from Montana Marie, and then, because it was a hot, unprofitable May
day, with “absolutely nothing doing,” as Straight had just remarked,
objections to Fluffy’s high-handed conduct subsided in favor of an
interest in Fluffy’s sudden and amazing fondness for sociology.
“But you’ve said right along that you hated it because it came in the
afternoon,” Eugenia reminded her.
“And because of all the reference reading,” added Straight.
“And the awful way Miss Seaton does her hair,” put in Montana Marie,
with another giggle.
“Frivolous objections, all of them.” Fluffy reached a long arm for
the candy. “Miss Seaton is a fright, and the library ought to buy
more books and save us the nerve-racking scramble for them. And
it’s a burning shame to put a course as important as this one at
such an absurd hour. But just the same”--Fluffy’s manner took on
the patronizing air of the over-indulged, because soon-departing
senior--“just the same I advise all you juniors and sophs, and you,
Montana Marie, if you ever should get to be a senior, to elect
sociology and find out a few things about this woman question.”
“This woman question!” repeated Susanna Hart scornfully. “Do you mean
equal suffrage and all sorts of other boring subjects like that?”
Fluffy waited to finish a large mouthful. “Suffrage isn’t a bore. It’s
a matter that every intelligent woman ought to think about at least.”
“Don’t quote Celissa Seaton, Fluffy,” Straight told her severely. “Her
style of oratory doesn’t suit you at all. No matter how long you live,
nor how frightfully you get to doing up your back hair, you’ll never
pass for the intellectual woman type, I’m happy to say.”
“There you are again!” objected Fluffy eagerly. “Mixing up pretty
clothes and a talent for making smooth and becoming puffs with
baby-doll brains. Intelligent women nowadays aren’t dowds, Straight.”
“Some are. Example, Miss Celissa Seaton,” retorted Straight promptly.
“Go it, twins.” Montana Marie passed the candy to the combatants
impartially, but Fluffy refused it and sat up with dignity against her
stolen cushions.
“Honestly, girls, I’m serious about this sociology. When you’re almost
through college, you look back over the work you’ve had, and wish you
could remember more about it, and are pretty sure that you’ll remember
a lot less before long, and anyway that a lot of it hasn’t much to do
with real life. Greek prose, for instance, and trig. and--syllogisms.”
“I certainly hope I shan’t encounter any syllogisms in real life,” put
in Straight fervently. “Because if I do, there’s one thing certain;
they’ll be sure to come out wrong and leave me in a fix.”
“But you’re glad of all the poetry you’ve learned to like,” went on
Fluffy, “and of the serious reading you’ve done and got off your mind
for good. And the history and civil government will come in handy in
polite conversation. But for real, downright, sit-up-and-take-notice
interest, give me this sociology business. I tell you it sets a person
thinking! If it didn’t make me sort of faint to poke around in dirty,
smelly places, I believe I should take up settlement work next winter.
Lots of the girls in the class want to.”
“Is sociology all about poor people?” inquired Timmy Wentworth.
“Because I think myself that rich people are just exactly as
interesting. Unless poor people are funny enough to make you laugh I
think they’re often very dull indeed. Consequently I don’t believe
settlement work is all fun and frolic.”
“It’s about both rich and poor people,” explained Fluffy patiently.
“But it hasn’t anything much to do with their being bright or stupid.
That comes in psych. mostly--people’s minds. It’s more about,--well,
their all getting their rights, you know, and having a fair chance.”
“Oh, yes, and the woman question means woman’s rights, I suppose,”
piped up Susanna Hart, still scornfully.
“Well, you want your rights, don’t you?” Straight demanded, coming to
Fluffy’s rescue, as she always did the minute an outsider attacked
her sister. “I never noticed you giving away bath hours or chances at
library books, and your reputation as a freshman roommate----” Straight
paused and smiled meaningly around the circle. “No use raking up last
year’s scandal,” she ended mildly, perceiving from Susanna’s flushed
face that she had scored.
“Well, but that’s different, Straight,” protested Susanna, humbled, but
not ready to yield her point. “Of course I take what’s coming to me. I
certainly don’t intend to lie down and be walked over by--by anybody.”
Susanna clenched her small hands wrathfully, as she remembered the
tyrannical last year’s roommate. “I didn’t mean to be more disagreeable
about it than I had to, but I want----”
“Exactly,” popped in Straight coolly. “You want your rights.”
“Well, I don’t want to vote,” snapped Susanna, “and I think suffragists
are horrid bores.”
“How many do you know, Susanna?” inquired Fluffy sweetly.
“Celissa Seaton and--you,” retorted Susanna. “Of course you’re not a
bore in general, Fluffy dear, but if you’re going off on that horrid
subject----”
“Well, of course I can’t talk very interestingly about it,” Fluffy
conceded diplomatically. “I don’t know enough to. But you should hear
Miss Seaton. You’d have to find some other word besides bore to express
your opinion of her, because you simply couldn’t call her that. She
gets all pink and excited, and she looks positively pretty in spite
of her hair. Don’t you know how Miss Ferris is always saying that
everybody is interesting if you can only find the right thing to talk
about? Well, Miss Seaton is just splendid on the woman question.”
“And are you really a suffragist, Fluffy?” inquired Sallie Wright, in
an awestruck voice. Not being at all clever herself, Sallie admired
the Duttons from a safe distance, and spent hours pondering over their
idiosyncrasies.
“Oh, not so you’d notice it,” Fluffy told her. “Sorry to reduce the
number of your suffragist friends to one, Susanna; but I’m still on the
fence. I’ve chosen the anti-suffrage position for my final essay in the
course, but so far, I may say, the arguments look to me pretty slim. If
any idiotic man can vote, why in the world shouldn’t we?”
“I thought Montana Marie’s extra-special show settled all that
foolishness,” said Timmy Wentworth. “It made fun of all those queer
advanced notions, specially suffrage, and as far as I could see it did
’em up brown.”
Fluffy sighed again patiently. “There you go again. It made fun! You
can make fun of anything--anything under the sun. But what have you
proved? What did that silly suffrage skit prove? What did our ‘Before
Breakfast, Never After’ farce prove? Nothing!” concluded Fluffy
dramatically.
“Well, they were certainly oceans of fun,” declared Sallie Wright
feelingly.
“And apparently they did oceans of harm,” Fluffy took her up, “if they
gave you and Timmy and all your little pals the idea that nonsense
like that is any real argument against the sensible modern ideas about
women. Miss Seaton felt that way about the show, but I thought she was
dippy. Now I’m almost sorry I went in for it.”
“I believe Fluff’s got a crush on Celissa Seaton,” Straight called
across Fluffy in a stage whisper directed at Montana Marie. Before
Fluffy had time to retort, the door opened and Georgia Ames appeared.
“Oh, Georgia!” Fluffy welcomed her with enthusiasm. “Come and help me
explain about sociology to these infants.”
Georgia grinned cheerfully around the circle, dropped down Turk-fashion
on the floor by the window, emptied the candy-box of its small
remaining store, and complied in her usual effective fashion with
Fluffy’s request. “Celissa Seaton is certainly making a hit this term.
I’ve just come from a wild sociological discussion on the shores of the
swimming tank. We about decided to organize a College Woman’s Rights
Club. Let’s do it right now, and get ahead of that other bunch.”
“Splendid!” cried Susanna Hart traitorously. Susanna knew when she was
beaten, and she had no desire to lead a lost cause against Georgia and
the twins. “I just love to help organize things.”
“So do I,” agreed Montana Marie. “Only why not organize something a
little more amusing, while we’re about it? Eating is the feature of
clubs that always appeals most to me.”
“But there’s no point in organizing anything amusing at this late
date,” Straight explained. “That is, not for us seniors.”
“Besides, we’ve done plenty of that sort of thing before,” added
Georgia. “We’ve bequeathed any number of amusing organizations to
Harding. Now we propose to bequeath something useful.”
“And of course we depend on the rest of you to keep it going when we’re
gone,” added Fluffy, smiling seductively at Susanna.
“All right,” agreed the little sophomore.
“We’re all for it, if you say the word,” put in Timmy.
“I’ll do my best,” promised Sallie, who had only the vaguest idea of
Georgia’s intentions.
“I guess I should do better if we had real eats at the first meeting,”
giggled Montana Marie.
No one paid any attention to her frivolity. Susanna wondered politely
why college girls should bother about votes, when of course they
couldn’t vote yet a while. Georgia explained that working women’s
rights were just as interesting and important as suffrage, and that
anyway the projected organization was to begin right at home, with the
problems of college life.
“You see,” she explained, “if women are maybe going to vote and to
learn how to run unions and protect their own interests and look out
for their children, why, of course we college people ought to be
ready to take hold. But how can we, if we’ve never had any experience
in sticking together and thinking about the public good? So what we
thought of--only I was just going to explain it all out nicely when
most of the crowd had to go up to a mob rehearsal for the senior
play--what we thought of was to form a self-government association, to
make rules for the college and arrange to carry them out, and--oh, just
generally run the ship of state.”
“What gorgeousness!” Straight gave a long sigh of admiration. “Why
couldn’t you think of an elegant scheme like that while we were on hand
to profit by it? Freshman year was the time for a thing like that.”
“But we hadn’t had sociology then,” chorused Georgia and Fluffy
apologetically.
“Well, don’t let’s organize it now,” pleaded Straight. “It’s bad
enough to be almost through Harding, and I simply couldn’t bear it
if I thought that those”--waving comprehensively at the lower class
girls--“were still here, going to bed when they were sleepy, and
not bothering about cuts or study-hours or any of the other trifling
annoyances of Harding life.”
“And the next year’s freshmen can sit on the note-room table if they
want to,” giggled Montana Marie joyously.
“Nonsense!” Susanna Hart told her sternly. “That’s not a regular rule;
it’s an unwritten law, and you can’t change it any more than you can
change the color of your hair.”
“Oh!” said Montana Marie slowly. “They write down the rules that
everybody knows, and the ones that----”
“They don’t actually write down any of the rules,” interrupted Susanna
tartly, annoyed at being caught in a contradiction.
“Oh!” repeated Montana Marie. “That’s the real difference between
college and boarding-school, isn’t it? I’m glad I’ve found out about
that at last. But if they’re all unwritten rules, and unwritten rules
can’t be changed, what will be the use of your club? Oh, dear, I
promised to be home at five, so I can’t wait to have you explain.”
“Come to the grand rally to-morrow afternoon,” Georgia ordered, “and
everything will be revealed. We’ll depend on you to get out all the
freshmen.”
The next day it rained--a fact which, combined with Montana Marie’s
industry in stirring up the freshmen, and with the prevalent interest
in self-government, to produce a mammoth mass-meeting. The Dutton
twins, whose method of getting things done, inherited from Madeline
Ayres, was to make them seem exclusive and therefore highly desirable,
sat in the back row and scoffed at the earnestness with which small
points were debated, and at the absurd length of time it took to
adopt a simple constitution and elect the smallest possible quota of
officers. Georgia Ames was made president. The Duttons resented the
reproachful way she stared at them when she introduced Miss Seaton,
who spoke on the modern woman so exhaustively that even the admiring
Fluffy was finally caught yawning. Next came Betty Wales, who, trying
to be brief, left her hearers somewhat confused about the status
of self-government, as she had officially investigated it in other
colleges for women. And then even the Duttons ceased fidgeting, and,
like the other chief organizers, waited breathlessly for Georgia’s next
announcement, on which, to the initiated, everything depended; Georgia
was to appoint the executive committee, and the executive committee
would do the rest; that is, they would revise the present college rules
and have general charge of enforcing the new code. Georgia made a
little preliminary speech about President Wallace’s faith in the girls
and in any experiment that they honestly wanted to try. Then she read
the committee list: six prominent girls of the type who could always be
relied upon to do the sensible thing, and Fluffy Dutton.
Fluffy jumped up to resign, but Straight persuaded her to wait, and
having waited, Fluffy declared that no power on earth should keep
her from acting on Georgia’s old committee. Before she knew it the
committee had elected her chairman.
“That’s only so I’ll come to all the meetings,” grumbled Fluffy.
“They’re so afraid of not having a quorum.”
“I hope you’re fixing it about the note-room table,” Montana Marie
reminded her. “Because if they’re all unwritten, I don’t see why you
can’t change one rule as well as another, and I think that one is
positively unfair.”
“Don’t be silly, child,” Straight ordered sharply. “Fluffy can’t be
bothered with any little fiddling custom like the note-room table
business. She’s fighting the ten o’clock rule. She’s been using all her
influence to get the committee to report against it, and if she does,
and the girls can hereafter use their judgment about going to bed, why,
all the bother we’ve had in organizing and starting the self-government
plan going will have been well worth while, in my opinion.”
Fluffy sighed. “Maybe,” she said. “But I think myself that looking out
for your rights is a terrible lot of bother. If you leave it all to the
faculty, they manage things fairly well for you, and you have your time
free for fun.”
“But that’s not good sociology, Fluffy,” Susanna Hart reminded her
with malicious sweetness. “If we’re going to learn to help the working
women, and to purify politics and so on, we must first understand how
to help ourselves and manage our own little republic.”
“I suppose so,” muttered Fluffy, and went off to a meeting of her
hopelessly sensible committee. They had devoted one session each to the
various college regulations, had debated them “backward and forward
and crisscross,” as Fluffy had irritably confided to Straight, and had
ended each time by ratifying the existing rule exactly as it stood.
“We don’t want to be too radical,” the most sensible and the slowest
of them all invariably declaimed at each decision. “We don’t want to
antagonize any one by unnecessary upheavals.”
Fluffy had prodded them on, but she had taken no special part in the
debates. For if they changed nothing else, she argued, mustn’t they in
sheer self-defense do away with the ten o’clock rule? And to-day at
last the ten o’clock rule was reached. Naturally Fluffy was worried
and irritable. Besides, she had quarreled with Georgia over the
make-up of the committee, and she suspected that Georgia had intended
the committee to let things alone--that she actually agreed with
them about upheavals and being too radical. Fluffy had scorned to ask
Georgia a point-blank question about her attitude to the ten o’clock
rule.
“Well,” said the most hopelessly sensible committee member, when
Fluffy had called the session to order, “I suppose the discussion
to-day will be more or less of a formality. I don’t suppose any of us
would consider changing the most important and carefully considered
regulation that has been imposed on our college life.”
“Is that the--the general sentiment?” asked Fluffy desperately; and
was met on all sides by vigorous nods of approval. “Then,” she went on
hastily, “let’s adjourn at once, before it’s too late to get a canoe or
a tennis court or something else amusing for the rest of the afternoon.”
“There’s just one thing more,” objected the highly sensible member. “I
suppose it’s understood that, under the self-government plan, we’re in
honor-bound to keep the rules we make. We must provide for a discipline
committee to act in cases of carelessness or deliberate disregard,
but I’m sure there’ll be very little of that sort of thing now that
the girls can feel that they’re their own law-makers. Isn’t it just
splendid that we could put the plan through this year?”
“Is all of that carried?” inquired Fluffy, reckless of parliamentary
procedure. “Well, now we can adjourn.”
Of the various amusing things with which one may fill a broken
afternoon at Harding, Fluffy chose the company of Montana Marie O’Toole
and the pursuit of chocolate soda.
“I take back some of what I said about sociology,” she told Montana
Marie over the soda. “It’s interesting and up to date, but it’s very
misleading. It doesn’t tell anything about the bother of protecting
your rights. Why, it’s even dangerous to try to protect them! Here we
are now, honor-bound to keep their old rules--just so much worse off
than before. And all because I got excited over the woman question, and
Georgia has such a practical mind and loves to try experiments.”
But Mary Brooks Hinsdale, having seen the pair through the window and
sacrificed her dignity to join them in the pursuit of soda, refused to
view the sociological episode as an utter failure.
“Plenty of people would say to you: the moral of that is to let well
enough alone,” said Mary. “But a much nicer moral, I think, is: try
again and you’ll come out better. Besides, Fluffy, don’t you honestly
think that the good old Harding rules work pretty well?”
Fluffy nodded dubiously. “The main thing I’ve learned,” she explained,
“is that whatever is worth having in this world--like the right to make
your own rules--is a bother to get and a bother to use. But I guess
that’s no reason for not going in for the worth-while things.”
“Let’s have another soda all round,” suggested Montana Marie.