DECISIONS AND LETTERS
The Glee Club practice was a great success. Voices had been “tried
out” previously, and the girls whose singing was up to the
requirement were happy, beginning to look forward to the trips which
they hoped to have.
“Personally,” said Hilary, “I think that the trip to Grant Academy
is a myth. There hasn’t been any since I’ve been here, and I haven’t
any idea that Miss Randolph will let us go. Of course, we could give
a little entertainment at one of the churches in Greycliff Village.”
“I forgot to tell you what Miss Randolph said to me,” said
Cathalina. “I went in to see if she thought I’d better go into the
Glee Club, and she said she thought I’d enjoy it. I asked her if we
were to have any trips and she smiled as if she had been asked that
before! Then she said that she thought we should have a big concert
here and invite the academy boys and teachers over, also the
Greycliff Village people. We’d charge a small admission fee.”
“I thought that she wouldn’t want us to go there,” said Betty.
“Why not?” asked Avalon.
“Oh, just the idea of girls going to give an entertainment in a
boys’ school. But we are going to the military reception, I guess.
That is different. We are their guests and will be chaperoned
properly by our dear teachers, you know.”
“I can’t see the difference,” said Avalon. “We’d be chaperoned all
right if we gave our entertainment.”
“Surely we would. Oh, I don’t know why it is different, but it is.”
Society lines were forgotten as the notes of the first chorus filled
the chapel where they practiced this time. The sopranos reached
their high notes successfully, and the altos came in at the proper
place. Opponents in the Emerson and Whittier societies sang
peacefully from the same sheet of music. And on the morrow there
were delivered to sundry suites and various individuals the senior
society invitations!
The girls were almost afraid to inquire about whether their friends
had received invitations or not. There was little said publicly, but
much discussion in private in regard to what action to take, and on
the part of those who had received two invitations, which of the two
rival societies to choose.
There was a solemn conclave in the suite where Cathalina sat
considering, with two invitations on her lap, and the other
suite-mates, similarly engaged, were in different parts of the room.
Hilary was in the window seat looking out of the window and was just
remarking that she did not want to decide finally till she heard
about some of the other girls, when Eloise came in and said, “What
are you girls going to do about the societies?”
“Just thinking it over, Eloise,” replied Lilian. “What invitations
did you girls receive?”
“Helen and I got both of them, but Pauline and Juliet only had
invitations from the Whittiers. It was funny, because they invited
us all to their party, you know.”
“You never can tell why girls do things, or don’t do ’em,” remarked
Betty.
“Why, Betty, how can you so malign your sex!”
“‘Varium et mutabile semper femina,’” quoted Hilary. “But Vergil
must have had some unfortunate love affair if he thought woman a
‘fickle and changeable thing.’”
“Women do change their minds,” said Betty, “but that is much better
when you find you were wrong than to stick to your old first
opinion, right or wrong. Mother had a funny experience with a
dentist who wanted to pull a tooth which she wanted to save. She had
him almost persuaded, she thought, but he said, ‘You wouldn’t want
me to go back on what I said I wouldn’t do, would you?’ ‘Not for the
world,’ said she, and went to another dentist who saved the tooth
all right.”
“Do you consider him an example of his sex?” said Lilian with a
laugh.
“No, not really, I guess. Still, I don’t know but you’d find as many
stubborn men as fickle women.”
“I don’t think you can put them all in a class like that,” observed
Eloise. “I know stubborn girls and fickle boys.”
“Let’s hurry up and decide on the society affairs, and leave our
wise considerations about the human race till another time.”
“All right, Hilary,” said Betty. “Do you know, Eloise, about Evelyn
and Diane?”
“Helen has just gone down to see what happened there. I think she’ll
be back in a minute.”
“All of us were invited by the Whittiers,” said Hilary. “I like them
best, anyhow.”
“There’s Helen now, I think,” said Eloise. “Come in.”
Helen and Diane entered. “Having a debate?” asked Diane.
“Not much of a debate. We were wondering how it was with your
suite.”
“The funniest thing—Dorothy and Jane are invited by the Emersons and
not by the Whittiers, and Evelyn and I by the Whittiers and not by
the Emersons. So that splits us up.”
“Again I remark that we all are invited by the Whittiers, and that I
like them the best,” said Hilary.
“The respective merits of the two societies do not seem to have much
to do with our decision, do they?” contributed Lilian.
“No, Lilian,” replied Hilary, “for the very good reason that both
societies do good work in a literary way, have good programs and
work hard on the annual debate. I always thought that the Whittiers
have a more solid class of girls as a rule. The Emersons take in a
lot of social butterflies——”
“Be careful how you say ‘butterflies,’ Hilary. Remember the Psyche
Club!”
“That’s a different kind of butterfly, Betty. But I was going to say
that they have a larger number always and probably average up with
as much real talent. So the main thing to me is to be with you
girls. If there is any rivalry, I want to be on the same side as the
rest of you.”
“We’ll get along all right with Dorothy and Jane—we’ll just leave
society discussions out!”
“Oh, yes, Diane; it isn’t so terribly important, after all.”
The girls of the two suites, then, with Diane and Evelyn, were among
those who decided on the Whittier Society. Their acceptances were
received with great joy, there was much coming and going of senior
collegiate girls, and great plans were made for the initiation. It
was all very different from the starting of the Shakespearean
Society in the academy the year before. Now they were among the
older girls of the school, intimates of the senior collegiates,
putting up their hair and wearing the same styles! And on the day of
the society decision, Cathalina received two interesting letters,
one on the Grant Academy stationery and the other, big and fat,
inscribed in a dashing masculine hand. They came on the afternoon
mail, which the girls received too late to read before they made
ready for dinner, and after that meal there was great silence and
reading of letters in the suite.
“If I had known what mail awaited little me,” said Cathalina, “I
would not have been able to stay away so long before dinner.”
“But we had such a good time on the beach,” said Betty, opening her
second letter. “I’m dying to know from whom that fattest letter
came.”
“So am I,” added Lilian, mischievously. “I don’t seem to recognize
the handwriting.”
Cathalina’s mouth curved into a smile as she read on. “Don’t worry,
I’ll tell you,” said she. “There is no secret. I didn’t recognize
the writing, either, though _I’ve_ seen it often enough.”
“I know who it is, then,” said Betty—“Bob Paget, because he would
write to Phil.”
“Go to the head, Betty. It’s Bob; such a nice, friendly letter! And
he is telling me all about their doings at college, things I can’t
pry out of Phil!”
“Isn’t it funny about brothers?” remarked Betty, not expecting a
reply.
“They won’t take time to write you in detail,” said Lilian, “and
when you are with them at home it is old to them. But we used to
hear some good tales from Dick.”
“Yes, we do, too,” acknowledged Cathalina, “but Phil never took the
pains to write me a long letter like this.”
“Of course not,” said Betty. “But look at that long one that Lilian
has. _I’m_ perfectly sure that it is from Mr. Philip Van Buskirk,
Junior.”
Lilian began on another sheet, putting out her hand in protest at
Betty.
“Shh-sh, girls,” immediately said Betty; “it’s getting serious. She
can’t be interrupted!”
“You crazy Betty,” exclaimed Lilian, turning a laughing face on the
girls. “Hilary, come to the rescue!” But Hilary was deep in a letter
of her own and looked up upon hearing her name with such a dazed
expression that Cathalina and Betty were all the more amused.
“Can’t you see, Lilian, that Hilary doesn’t even know what we are
talking about. She is back on the shores of the blue Kennebec with
Campbell. Probably the boys all decided to get their letters written
up and went at it at the same time.”
“That was it,” said Cathalina. “I can just see Bob coming in and
hear him say, ‘Writing letters to the girls, boys? _I’ll_ have to
write to poor Cathalina.’”
“That is a very fine theory, Miss Van Buskirk!” said Betty, opening
a letter from home.
“Wait till you get a letter from Donald,” said Cathalina. “Then
we’ll see what remarks the rest of us can make.”
“All right,” said Betty. “Have you opened your letter from the
academy?”
Then Cathalina did blush a little, having hoped that the note from
Captain Van Horne would escape comment. “Not yet,” she said.
“I’m horrid,” said Betty, repentantly. “It isn’t even polite to make
such personal remarks. My good spirits do carry me away!”
“You’re forgiven,” said Cathalina, “on condition that you let us
read on in peace.”
Silence descended on the room for a space. Then Lilian rose and went
into the bedroom which she shared with Hilary. Betty remarked that
she was going to hunt up Diane and left. Cathalina asked Hilary if
she would like to read “Bob’s letter,” and passed it over. Hilary
read and commented. “He writes a good letter, doesn’t he? It is full
of fun, but very well expressed. I like Robert Paget. Did you ever
wonder whether he were not related to Helen?”
“I never even thought of the names being the same. Isn’t that just
like me?”
“I hadn’t thought of it till I got back to school and saw Helen
again. But I have forgotten to ask her.”
“They are not from the same place, but are both from the South and
might easily be cousins. Helen hasn’t any brother, I think. I never
heard her mention one, at least; but I pay so little attention
sometimes to family relations that she might have half a dozen
relatives that I wouldn’t know about.”
“My letter was from Campbell,” said Hilary. “The college news in it
is about covered by the news in this of Bob’s. Shall I let Lilian
read Bob’s letter?” Lilian had just come out to join them, after
reading Philip’s letter once more all by herself!
“Oh, this is a lovely letter. Phil’s news was about the same, but he
had heard from my brother and was rejoicing, very kindly, about the
North decision to go to New York.”
“Really, Lilian?” asked Cathalina, in delight.
“Yes, I just read more about it in Mother’s letter. I can’t believe
it! But Mother says that Father has actually decided to leave the
old town. It is largely on Dick’s account. Father and Dick will go
into the firm with Father’s old friend. That means an established
law business, of course.”
“When will they go?”
“Mother says that Father wants to hurry it up now, after waiting so
many years, and she has no peace about taking their time to go over
everything from attic to cellar, as she wants to do. Father says
‘make a clearance,’ and she has already begun on the attic, where
there is everything stored, from Dick’s cradle and my high chair to
stacks of all the magazines from the year One.”
The girls were listening with great interest, Cathalina especially
delighted at the thought of having Lilian in New York. “Think of it,
Lil! You can have all kinds of music lessons and hear the things you
like and we can be together so much. I wish you were coming to New
York, too, Hilary.”
But Hilary was not feeling left out. She always rejoiced in the good
fortune of others. Besides, wasn’t Campbell in Cathalina’s family?
This last letter of a young man who was at least a very firm friend.
“No telling,” said she. “Remember that I’m the daughter of a
minister, and there isn’t any telling where we may go!”
“What else did your mother say?” asked Cathalina of Lilian.
“Not much more about New York, only that she hoped they could find
comfortable quarters without much trouble. Poor Mother! I ought to
be home to help look over things with her. But she will hire plenty
of help for the hard work. She says that Father wants to be settled
in New York by Christmas. I don’t know what to think of that. I’m
crazy to go to live there, but I didn’t expect not to be able to say
goodbye to the folks in the old town.”
“Goodbyes are awful,” said Cathalina. “You can visit them. Why, this
just takes my breath with joy. Come on, let’s go and celebrate and
tell the girls or something. The bell hasn’t rung for study hours.”
“Oh, it won’t be time for that for a long while,” said Hilary. “Wait
till I see if there’s anybody in the other suite, and if they are
out we’ll go and hunt up Betty and Diane.”
There was no one at home in the suite mentioned. Hilary, Lilian and
Cathalina flew down the stairs and out upon the broad stones of the
big porch. “I see them,” said Hilary, “walking up toward the little
wood, look.”
Diane, Evelyn, Betty and Helen were together. “Hoo-hoo!” called
Hilary, and the girls stopped. “We want to tell you the latest
news,” said Cathalina, a little out of breath. “The Norths are going
to move to New York, and I’ve just been wondering, too, Helen, if
one of the friends that my brother brings home once in a while is
not related to you. He lives in Richmond and his name is Robert
Paget. I don’t know why I was so stupid not to connect the names
before.”
“Bob Paget of Richmond? Well, I should think we are related, only
first cousins!”
“Good. You should have been at our house party. I wanted to have all
you other girls that were at camp as it was, but the automobile trip
and the size of the car limited it this time. We’ll have another
one.”
“You need not make any apologies, Cathalina. We all understood how
it was. I haven’t seen anything of Robert for some time, but they
say that he is quite a fine fellow.”
“I had such a bright letter from him today. He is at college with my
brother and cousin, you know, and is a great chum of my brother’s.
And here we are just finding it out! I’ll let you read the letter
when we go back.”
“All right, I’d love to see it. By the way, when do you suppose the
societies will have their initiations?”
“Very soon; next Friday, I think. I don’t know what they do, but the
collegiates always seemed to have so much fun over it, and the girls
would never tell what happened.”