LOOKING FOR TROUBLE
Doris’s thoughts were so entirely centered on the disagreeable effect
her decision would have upon Leslie Cairns she did not stop to consider
what her freshie and sophomore admirers might think of her change of
plans. She decided to wait two days before writing to Leslie. She had
been rather shaky in mathematics for a week past and needed to devote
herself assiduously to it until she was beyond a stage that courted
being conditioned. She had sweetly assured Muriel that she would not
change her mind at the last minute.
She put off the writing of the note to Leslie until she had finished her
self-appointed review in mathematics. She wished to have a free mind in
which to write Leslie. Her note should be a triumph of cleverness. On
this point she was determined.
In the meantime Muriel had circulated the news that Doris was to be her
Christmas guest, with an innocently smiling face. Clever Muriel did not
propose to give her sophomore catch an opportunity to wriggle out of her
agreement at the last minute. “It’s just as well to publish the Ice
Queen’s thaw from the housetops,” she gaily confided to Jerry and
Marjorie. “The amazing fact that the Ice Queen and I are chummy will
have a soothing, beneficial effect upon such revolutionists as the
Phonograph, the Prime Minister, and such.”
“There is some truth in your disrespectful remarks about these erring
sophie sisters,” Jerry had reluctantly agreed. “We can only trust,
Matchless Muriel, that you may always get away with your reckless use of
pet names. I believe I’ve mentioned this hope before.”
While Doris, having coolly mapped out her own course, was as coolly
pursuing her own way, Leslie was impatiently waiting to hear from her.
She believed that Doris was too greatly bent on going with her to New
York to remain miffed. Doris would soon write or call her on the
telephone.
Instead of two days it took Doris three to complete her mathematical
review. During that time she kept a “Busy” sign in frequent display upon
the door, a proceeding which Muriel had advised her to do. Since her
acceptance of Muriel’s invitation the two girls had become far more
friendly than before. Both felt the relief attending the change and
welcomed the pleasant interest it permitted them to exhibit in each
other’s campus affairs.
On the fourth afternoon following her quarrel with Leslie Cairns, Doris
hurried to her room from her trigonometry period, bent in writing the
letter to Leslie. It lacked only three days of the closing of Hamilton
College for the holidays. It was high time she wrote it, she reflected.
During the next three busy days there would be little opportunity. She
sighed audible satisfaction as she entered the room to find it deserted.
She hoped Muriel would remain away until dinner time. Prudently she
brought out the busy sign from its place in the table drawer and affixed
it with a brass tack to an outside panel of the door.
Having finally settled herself at the study table to write she spent
several minutes in thoughtful deliberation before she wrote:
“DEAR LESLIE:
“You know, of course, in what an annoying position you placed me
by disappointing me about our New York vacation. I had been
invited by a number of other girls, some of them upper class, to
spend Christmas at their homes. I refused the invitations—saying
that I had already been invited by a dear friend to spend the
holidays in New York. Naturally, after you had failed me, I
could hardly have the bad taste to go to any one of these
friends, stating that I had changed my mind.
“Since you disappointed me, Miss Harding, my roommate has
invited me to spend Christmas with her at her Sanford home. I
have accepted. Although you said, just before I left you the
other day at the Colonial, that you had re-considered, and would
try to arrange the New York trip, I was not impressed. I doubted
your intention to keep your word. You have a habit—”
A forceful fist applied to the door, regardless of the “Busy” sign,
brought Doris to her feet with a displeased “Oh!” She stood for a brief
moment, hesitating, before she made any movement toward the door. While
the sign was warranted to keep away other students, it was not
prohibitive to Miss Remson, the maids or the laundress.
“Oh!” she exclaimed again as her eyes took in the tall, severe figure of
Julia Peyton.
The yellow-white of the sophomore’s complexion turned to dull red under
the bored scrutiny of Doris’s sea-green eyes. “I saw your sign.” She
rolled her black eyes toward it. “I simply had to disregard it. I knew
you were alone. It was too good a chance to miss. I really had to see
you.”
“Why?” was Doris’s close-clipped question. She had not yet invited the
other girl into the room. She knew she was rude, but she did not care.
She did not like Julia Peyton, although Julia was one of her most
annoyingly devoted admirers.
“Oh, for a very important reason. To prove to you that I am a true
friend, Doris,” Julia wagged her black head in time to her last four
emphatic words.
“I don’t in the least understand you,” Doris returned stiffly. “Come in.
I am really awfully busy. I have an important letter to—”
“I won’t stay long,” Julia assured, entering with an alacrity which
indicated the importance of her own mission. Without waiting to be
invited she sat down in a wicker chair and burst forth: “You’re not
really going home for Christmas with Miss Harding, are you? I was told
so yesterday, but I didn’t believe it. I heard the same silly report
today. It worried me. I simply had to come to you with it.”
“Why should such a report worry you?” Doris demanded half in disdain.
“Because I’d hate to see you put yourself in a position where you might
be ridiculed.” Julia eyed Doris with mysterious pity.
“Ridiculed?” Doris’s greenish eyes widened in instant offense. Her
exclamation was one of haughty unbelief. “Do say what you are trying to
say, directly,” she commanded. “I have yet to place myself open to
ridicule.”
“That’s just what I told Clara,” cried Julia. “I was sure you wouldn’t
go home for Christmas with that horrid Miss Harding.”
“But I _am_ going home with her,” Doris returned with elaborate
unconcern. A tantalizing impulse to nettle Julia seized her. “She is not
horrid. She is clever, and rather good fun.” Doris drew the chair, in
which she had been sitting when Julia knocked, away from the table. She
sat down and cast a measuring glance at her tiresome caller.
“You won’t think so after you know why she has invited you to her home.”
The sophomore’s black brows drew together. Her round black eyes assumed
their most “moony” appearance. “She invited you because she couldn’t
find anybody else at Hamilton to invite. I have found out positively
that she has invited four different off-campus girls _and everyone of
them has turned her down_.” Julia’s voice rose in shrill triumph. “What
do you think of that.”
Without waiting to hear Doris’s opinion she rattled on maliciously.
“Miss Dean and that crowd Miss Harding is chummy with have been
pretending to be the ones who have invited those off-campus beggars to
their homes for the holidays. I know for a fact that none of them have
done much in that direction. Miss Dean, who’s supposed to be such a
sweet little model of goodness and generosity, is going to entertain at
home—not the off-campus frumps. Oh, no! She is going to take Miss
Harper, Miss Mason, Miss Page home with her. Miss Macy will lug home
that tall, blue-eyed, lazy-looking girl that’s visiting Miss Remson.
Miss Lynne has invited Miss Moore and Miss Severn. Even grouchy Miss
Warner is going to entertain Langly. That’s the way they benefit their
precious ‘dormitory girls’ that they are always crowing about.”
“I fail to see how all this applies to me.” Doris showed plain signs of
becoming frosty. She was only half interested in Julia’s lengthy,
spiteful argument.
“I’m only trying to show you how selfish and what fakes that crowd of
priggies are. Just the same what I said about Miss Harding having
invited you because she couldn’t get anyone else applies to you,” was
Julia’s dogged assertion. “I heard she felt sorry for you because
you—well, had no home influences—er—that you came clear from England
alone and—that—and—” Julia floundered desperately, then paused.
“What does Miss Harding know of me? Nothing.” Doris sprang to her feet
in a swift blaze of wrath. “Who told you she said such things of me?”
Julia solemnly shook her head. As a matter of truth she was merely
repeating several of her roommate’s, Clara Carter’s, vague suppositions.
“I can’t tell you that. She—er—I only heard she felt that way about you.
You see, Doris, I asked you to go home with me for the holidays, but you
said you were going to New York,” she reminded in reproachful tones. “I
supposed you would go with Miss Cairns. All of a sudden you turned
around and accepted Miss Harding’s invitation. I thought it rather
unfair in you, when I had asked you first of all. I thought you might at
least have come to me and said—”
“I will not be lectured by anyone!” Doris cried out angrily. “I don’t
care what you thought. I could explain to you precisely why I accepted
an invitation from Miss Harding to spend Christmas with her at her home,
but I shall not do it.”
“I shouldn’t call a friendly confidence, such as I’ve just given you, a
lecture. I’m sure I haven’t asked you to explain anything. I think I’d
better go now. I’ve done my duty as your friend, even if you can’t
understand that now. You will sometime soon, I hope.” Julia rose,
stalked to the door; a picture of offended dignity. “You’ll be sorry if
you go home with Miss Harding.” She could not resist this last fling.
“You’ll lose caste on the campus. Remember, she has invited you as a
last choice.”
“I am _not_ going home with Miss Harding.” Doris brought one slippered
foot down with an angry stamp. “I suppose I ought to thank you for
telling me what you have. I don’t feel like thanking anyone for
anything. I shall go to New York for Christmas.”
“With Miss Cairns?” eagerly quizzed Julia.
“Yes, with Miss Cairns,” Doris answered; then added bitterly: “She has
invited me to go there with her because we are friends; not because she
feels sorry for me.”
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