MIDYEAR'S
The next three weeks the girls in Merton did study, as did most of
the other girls. All the classes were having reviews and the whole
college had settled down to good hard work. Social life had practically
stopped, except for an occasional spread or tea, and society meetings
on Monday nights were about the only diversions. When she felt she
could afford the time Jean had gone to basket-ball practice, for
she secretly longed to make the freshman team, but openly she said
nothing about it. She knew everything depended upon the midyear marks,
and although there had been a decided improvement in her work since
Thanksgiving, still she knew it looked a little doubtful in French and
German. However, she was confident that by June she would be doing at
least passing work.
About a week before the examinations began, Jean went over to
Wellington one evening to study psychology with Lois Underwood, who
was in her division. As it happened, several of the Wellington girls
were in the same division and Lois called them in to the "quiz," as
she called their evening's work. The girls really worked hard until
about nine o'clock and had covered considerable ground when they began
talking about hypnotism, a favorite subject of Miss Washburn, the
psychology instructor.
"I think Miss Washburn's positively daffy on the subject," said Jean;
"I don't believe there's anything in it at all. She'll be sure, though,
to ask us something about it in the exam. I suppose if we want to pass
the course we'll have to agree with her whether we believe in it or
not."
"But I do believe in it," said Lois Underwood. "Bess and I have been
reading up a lot on the subject and we have been experimenting on each
other and find we can do lots of the things the books tell about. It's
easy enough if you just make up your mind to it."
The other girls laughed and scoffed at this, and declared Bess and Lois
were getting daffy over the subject, too.
"Well, all right, girls," said Lois, "if you don't believe it, I'll let
Bess hypnotize me. You've all got to keep perfectly quiet and not laugh
if she doesn't succeed at first, for we can't always tell what will be
the result."
"As I said before," Jean replied, "I don't believe there's anything in
it, but I'm perfectly willing to be convinced."
The girls shut their books and awaited the exhibition. Bess Johnson
arose from her chair and looked steadily into Lois Underwood's eyes as
she sat upright on her couch. "Put your mind upon sleep, Lois; sweet,
gentle sleep. You're going to sleep for a little while." She stepped up
close to her and began rubbing her forehead and temples, saying all the
time, "You're beginning to feel sleepy, you know you will sleep, you
can't help it. Now you're asleep, asleep, asleep." And at these words
Lois fell over on the couch in a deep sleep.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, our fair victim is peacefully sleeping, and
those of you who doubt the fact are at liberty to examine the sleeping
beauty as carefully as you please. As a first test I will prick her arm
with this needle and if she does not move or cry out you may draw your
own conclusions."
She pricked her arm with the needle, but not a movement was made or a
sound heard and the girls looked at each other in astonishment. They
spoke to her and shook her and pinched her and pulled her hair, but it
was in vain, there was no evidence of life. "It is wonderful," said
Jean; "I am forced to admit that there's something in it after all.
Does every one else believe?" The rest of the girls declared they did,
and then Jean suggested that Bess awaken her.
"Very well, girls; it's perfectly simple," and she went up to the couch
and began rubbing Lois's forehead and temples, saying firmly, "You are
about to awaken, fair one; open thine eyes. Now you are awaking, you
know you cannot help it. You are coming to life again, awaken." But
Lois did not seem to open her eyes and did not move. She lay as rigid
as when she first went into the sleep. Bess worked over her as hard as
she knew how, but could not awaken her. Again and again she shook her
until it seemed as though she must open her eyes if there was any life
in her.
"Oh, girls, what shall I do? I can't get her to wake up. It's never
been like this before. Suppose she never comes out of it. I'll be a
murderer. Oh, I promise you if she ever does wake up that I'll never
try to hypnotize any one again!"
"Hadn't we better call in the doctor or some of the older girls?" said
Jean.
"No, not yet; I'm afraid to. What would they say to me? And if I put
her to sleep, I'm the only one that can awaken her. Don't you know
that other people have no influence over them?" and she began again to
work over her. It was no use, and now the other girls began to get as
frightened as Bess, but there seemed nothing to do but to wait.
At last the 9.45 warning bell rang and the girls knew they must leave,
especially those who lived in other houses. With tears in her eyes Bess
said good-night to the girls and begged them to say nothing about the
matter, assuring them that she knew in time she could awaken Lois.
After the door closed on the last girl, Bess returned to the sleeping
girl on the couch. She was breathing deeply and so Bess did not despair
of her life. She sat beside her and called and called to her to awaken.
The moments flew by and the terrified girl felt that she must control
herself before she could hope to control another. She must make a
supreme effort to undo the harm she had done. She left the couch and
walked slowly up and down the room, saying to herself, "Be calm; it
must come out all right; she will awaken."
After perhaps half an hour she sat down again on the couch and looked
Lois hard in the face. Then she rubbed her forehead and temples exactly
as she had done when she sent her into the stupor, and almost screamed,
"You must awaken; you must awaken, Lois, or I shall go mad." There was
not a sign of awakening, and heartsick and discouraged Bess sank upon
her knees almost exhausted. She prayed softly to her Father in Heaven
for help in this awful moment, and then for the last time whispered,
"Oh, Lois, Lois, awaken!" and she saw her eyelids begin to move very
slightly and then gradually open. "Oh, Lois, you're really awake again;
you're awake again. I'm so thankful!"
"'Thankful,' Bess, why, what do you mean? What are you doing on your
knees by my couch?"
"Nothing, Lois, except praying that you'd wake up. Don't you remember
anything about to-night?"
"No; all I know is that I'm very, very tired and I feel as though I
could sleep a week. What happened?"
"Why, to-night to prove to the girls that there was such a thing as
hypnotism, I put you to sleep and I couldn't make you wake up. I've
been frightened almost to death ever since and I'll never, never try
to hypnotize anybody again as long as I live. I wish I'd never heard
anything about the subject. But you're all right now, and that's all I
care about. I've had the most awful experience of my life. Look and see
if my hair has turned white. We'd better go to bed now, but I must let
the other girls know the first thing in the morning, for they were all
as frightened as I."
When the psychology class met next morning it was a pretty sober little
group that had studied together the night before, and two of them, at
least, were a trifle pale. Miss Washburn could not understand what had
fallen over the class, for it was generally very lively and at times
troublesome. As luck would have it, after she had finished her lecture
she called on Bess Johnson to talk on the subject of hypnotism. To the
astonishment of the class (excepting, of course, her companions of the
night before), who were accustomed to Bess' brilliant recitations, they
heard her say, "I know nothing about it," and she turned as pale as
though she had seen her father's ghost, and the question was passed on
to Gertrude Jackson, next on the list, who discussed it at some length,
until the bell rang and the class was dismissed.
From psychology Jean went into her English class and took her usual
seat in the extreme left-hand corner near the open door. It was theme
day, and Miss Whiting was to read some examples of what she considered
good and bad themes. Jean listened in vain for one of hers among the
good ones, for she had tried hard and was beginning to enjoy her
English work. But among the themes Miss Whiting considered poor because
of their faulty construction and poor English she recognized two of
her recent attempts. She was hurt, and the tears sprang to her eyes to
think of Miss Whiting's reading two of her themes before the entire
class, as though one wouldn't have been enough! Of course everybody
would know they were hers, although she overlooked the fact that no
names were mentioned with the criticisms. She felt her face turning
scarlet and tears rolling down her cheeks. She couldn't stay there to
hear more of her awful themes read and she didn't dare ask Miss Whiting
to be excused. She gave one glance at the open door and her mind was
made up. Knowing Miss Whiting was very near-sighted, she stole very
quietly out of the room before Miss Whiting or hardly any of the girls
were aware of it.
No sooner out than she regretted her childish action and she wished she
were back in the room. She wandered over to the library, determined
to wait until the recitation was over and then go to Miss Whiting and
apologize. After the class was dismissed and just as Miss Whiting was
gathering up the papers on her desk, Jean walked up to her, smiling
sweetly. "I've come to offer you an apology, Miss Whiting. I purposely
left your class last hour in the midst of your reading. I felt so
badly when you read two of my miserable little themes that I thought I
couldn't stand it a moment longer, and as my seat is near the door I
took French leave when you were not looking in my direction. It was a
very silly thing to do, and I realized it the moment I was out of the
room. I'm very sorry and hope you will accept my apology."
"Why, certainly, Miss Cabot. How very thoughtful of you to come and
tell me, for unless you had I should have known nothing about it. Let
us sit down a moment and talk over your work. This will be a good time
for conference, if you can spare the time."
"Yes, indeed," said Jean, as she sat down in the chair beside Miss
Whiting.
"Let me see, Miss Cabot, do you care for the subject of English? It
seems to me I had got the impression that you did not. Just lately,
though, I have noticed a slight change for the better, in your theme
work. You seem to be grasping things as though you wouldn't let go.
I hope you won't. Things about you are beginning to interest you,
and you're describing them excellently. However, your constructions
are faulty, but that is a common fault in freshman work, and I read
your theme because it furnished criticism applicable to so many other
papers. You must not take criticism so to heart, for it is given always
with the hope of helping others. I thank you again for coming to tell
me what you did. Shall we walk down together? I go as far as Miss
Thatcher's."
When Jean entered the dining-room one of the freshmen called out, "Were
you ill in English, Jean?"
"Yes, temporarily indisposed, but I'm better now, thank you," and
smiling, she took her seat.
When the examination lists were posted, Jean found she had psychology
and German on Tuesday, French and English on Wednesday, and music on
Thursday. Each examination was to last from two to three hours and was
to cover all the work of the first semester. The only one she did not
dread was music, and she trembled most at thought of French and German.
Monday she crammed and crammed on her German verbs and vocabularies,
and at supper declared she would not take another look at them, for she
had planned to spend the entire evening reading over psychology notes.
When Elizabeth came upstairs after supper, she said she was going
to spend the night in Mabel Livingston's room, so they could study
mathematics together. Mabel's room-mate was away from college that
night, so Elizabeth could have her bed. She collected her books and
kissed Jean good-night, warning her not to sit up all night to study.
"After you go, Elizabeth, I'm going to lock the door and I won't open
it if people knock all night," she called out to Elizabeth as she left
the room. She propped herself up on the couch and drew up the table
with her drop-light upon it, and opened her psychology note-book to
begin reading her notes. How small her writing looked and how many
pages there were to be read! Soon the lines and words began to run
together, and all unbeknown to her the note-book slipped to the floor
but landed so softly that she did not hear it at all.
The next thing she knew she was sitting up on the couch staring first
at the burning light on the table and then at the bright sunshine
pouring into the window and then at the open note-book on the floor,
and finally at herself fully clothed as though ready for recitation.
She looked at her watch and found it had stopped, but she listened for
sounds around her and she heard girls talking and walking about as
though it were the middle of the day. "What has happened?" she asked
herself. "Am I another Rip Van Winkle?" She jumped up, unlocked the
door and ran into the next room. "What time is it, Ann?" she asked.
"Ten minutes past eight, Jean. Where were you at breakfast?"
"Well, if this isn't the greatest joke you ever heard about. I haven't
had any breakfast. I lay down on my couch last night right after supper
to study for my psychology exam and the next thing I know it's ten
minutes past eight and I've been asleep all that time and haven't done
a bit of studying. I've had these clothes on since yesterday morning
and haven't combed my hair yet, but I've got to go to Chapel, for I
don't dare cut and my exam comes the first thing afterward, and I
haven't looked at it. What shall I do? If she'll only ask me something
I know, which is little enough, I admit, I'm saved. Seems to me I
dreamed she asked us to write fully on the subject of memory and give
illustrations. I'll just look over the headings on that subject,"
and she sat down where she was and opened her note-book and read
strenuously until the chapel bell rang.
She smiled to herself as she walked into Miss Washburn's room and saw
the blue books on the desks. "To think I've studied just ten minutes
for a three-hour exam!" she said to herself. But when she took up the
printed list of questions and read the very first, "Outline, develop
fully, and give illustrations of the subject of memory," she smiled
still more and said, "Well, if I hadn't fallen asleep just when I did,
I'd never have dreamed we'd have that question. As it is, I'm all
prepared and it's the only thing I know anything about," and she wrote
over two hours and felt confident that she had passed in a good paper.
The German examination which followed was much harder, and it seemed
as though every time she tried to think of the parts of an irregular
German verb the corresponding French word popped into her head. Right
ahead of her sat Anne Cockran, writing away at such a rapid rate that
Jean felt sure she knew the correct answer to every question and she
wished once or twice that she could get a glimpse of her paper. Once
she leaned forward a little and as she did so her glance fell on Olive
Windman, who was sitting a little ahead of her to the right. Jean saw
her take a little paper covered with very fine writing from the front
of her shirt-waist and conceal it in her lap. She looked quickly at
Fräulein Weimer, but found her busy correcting notebooks; then she
looked down at the paper in her lap and began writing again. It was
the first time that Jean had seen open cheating, although she knew it
occurred again and again. The very idea of looking at Anne Cockran's
paper faded as quickly from her mind as it had entered it, and she
blushed at the thought of what she might have done.
At the end of the examination, Fräulein Weimer announced that she had
reason to suspect certain members of the class of dishonesty, and all
those who had given or taken help in any way during the examination
might not pass in their examination books. How thankful Jean was that
the number did not include herself, and she was shocked as she laid
down her examination book on the table to find that it rested on one
marked "Olive Windman."
The French examination next day was hard from beginning to end, and
although she did her very best she felt she had failed. English was
easy, and she finished in less than two hours. Her music examination
took most of Thursday afternoon, for part of it was on the piano and
the rest on harmony. When she had written the last note and signed her
name she breathed several deep sighs of relief and started for the gym.
There were two whole days of vacation for her, for she had no more
examinations and she meant to put most of her time into basket-ball
practice, as the list of freshman candidates was to be posted the next
Monday, and she hoped against hope to see her name among them.
Monday was registration day for the second half-year, and every one
reported at the office at the appointed time to find her marks and the
number of hours she would be allowed to take second half. When Jean
received her notification she found she had passed in everything but
her French and she was requested to see Mlle. Franchant at once. With
fear and trembling she approached her room, for she felt she was about
to be told that she must drop French for the rest of the year. She
peeped into the room and saw there were no other students there, so
then she walked up to Mlle. Franchant's desk, where she sat writing a
letter.
"Come right in, Mlle. Cabot. I want to speak to you just one moment.
I had to report a failure in your French work first semester, but it
is not so bad a one that you must drop the subject. You have improved
since I warned you and I think with good hard work you will pass at the
June examination. If I can help you in any way I shall be glad to do
so."
"Thank you," said Jean, and she left the room saying to herself, "Well,
I've lost my chance at basket-ball, but I'll pass that subject in June
or know the reason why."