CHAPTER XVI

CRUSHED ILLUSIONS

JANET sat on the floor disconsolately gazing at a broken plaster cast

which she had just unearthed from a box of her belongings sent from

Hopper Hall to her new rooms some squares away. This senior year, she

and Teddy had determined should give them more freedom.

Cordelia and Lee had followed their example, and all four were

established in one of the many houses offering apartments to students.

Charity Shepherd and Grace Breitner still clung to the familiar

dormitory. Fay Wingate and Juliet Fuller with the rest of the last

year's seniors had "passed out into the wide, wide world." Rosalie, who

had spent her college days with an aunt in the town, was now at home in

a distant city.

"What a lugubrious countenance," said Teddy, turning to look at Janet.

"One would suppose that not only was a trumpery cast broken, but your

heart as well."

"Oh, it isn't the cast altogether," said Janet; "it is what it

typifies: shattered hopes, crushed illusions, friendships broken."

"Shattered nonsense," said Teddy scornfully. "What a way for a senior

to talk. You're homesick, that's what's the matter with you. You are

sighing for old Hopper Hall; you want the bureau drawers that would

stick, and the closet door that wouldn't shut. You want giggling

freshmen to look down upon and haughty seniors to look up to. You

haven't yet become adapted to your new conditions."

"No, that isn't it, though I do miss Fay and Grace and, most of all,

little Polly. I shall miss my dear child more than any one; that's what

I mean by crushed illusions, Ted."

"Why, what is the matter with her? Isn't she here? I thought you said

she expected to come back."

Janet began fitting a wing upon her broken figure of the Victory and

answered: "No, she isn't."

"Why what has happened? Why didn't you tell me before, Janet?"

"I knew it only just now." She laid down the wing and drew from her

blouse waist a letter. "It is very romantic and very like a book," she

said, "but I didn't expect it, I expected to be making plans for her,

and helping her by my advice and sympathy all through the year and now—"

"Othello's occupation is gone? Well, you can give me the sympathy."

"It's wasted upon you. I never met a person who needed it less. As to

advice, you spurn that persistently, and I feel bereft of the use of my

highest powers."

"Suppose you don't go mooning on in this strain till after you have

told me what has happened to Polly. I have some interest in her welfare

though I can steel my heart against her fascinations with more success

than you can."

"For one thing," began Janet unfolding her letter and spreading it out

on her lap, "she is going abroad with Miss Thurston next month."

"Gracious!" exclaimed Teddy. "What next, pray? I should think that was

enough. Is Miss Thurston inviting her?'

"No, and that is where the romantic part comes in. You remember the

absent-minded uncle who gave Polly a set of Browning two years running?"

"Yes, I remember the absent-minded beggar. Well?"

"He has turned up from somewhere; Salt Lake City, or Seattle

or some one of those far distant spots. He came to Abington to

revisit the scenes of his youth. He is Polly's great-uncle, Judge

Somebody-or-other, she doesn't tell his name but calls him uncle. He

saw her and took a great fancy to her, as who would not? He also saw

Van Austin who was there at the time. Oh, yes," as Teddy looked at her

sharply, "I told you it was the real thing with Van and it is. It seems

that Papa Austin and Uncle Judge were classmates at college in their

youth, and when Uncle Judge found that Polly's young man was a son of

his old chum, he was so pleased that he offered to send Polly abroad

if she could find any one who would be a suitable companion and if she

would give up college. He has some old-fashioned prejudice against

the higher education for women, and when Van told him that he wanted

to marry Polly in a year—yes," at a second look from Teddy, "that is

true—he said there was no use for her to go back to college and that a

year abroad would be of much more benefit to her. So he piles down here

to town, hunts up Papa Austin, splurges around with a gold-headed cane—"

"Did Polly tell you all that?" asked the literal Teddy.

"No, not all. I am simply making him the conventional rich uncle. He's

got to be effective or my story will lose its artistic quality. So

then, when he discloses his identity to his old chum, he exclaimed,

'Behold in me the long lost comrade of boyhood's days!' And papa hauls

out his handkerchief and trumpets a blast, being overcome with emotion,

and quavers out: 'Does my hearing deceive me or are those the tones

of my old playmate, Peter—we'll call him Peter—Perkins?' Then they

fall on one another's neck and get red in the face. Then Polly trips

in hand in hand with Van. She wears a fetching hat and a ravishing

costume purchased by the wealthy uncle, and Papa Austin says: 'Shiver

my timbers!'"

"Oh, Janet, now you are getting silly."

"So I am. I am losing the unity of my scheme. He says: 'Bless my soul,

whom have we here?' Then nunky trots her forward and says: 'My niece

and heiress,' while Polly hangs her head and drops a pretty curtsey.

Then nunky and papa join hands and say: 'Bless you, my children,' and

they ring down the curtain."

"Janet, how much of that is true and how much is foolishness? I never

heard any one gabble on in such a strain as you can."

"The main facts are true, though I have embellished it a little to

make it more picturesque. It is perfectly true that the judge is an

old friend of the Austins; likewise is it true that Polly is going

abroad with Miss Thurston next month, and that she and Van expect to be

married in about a year."

"And what do the Austins say?"

"I don't see why they should say anything. Now that the judge has

appeared on the scene they appear to be reconciled to the match. Van

isn't so wonderfully well off. He has a pretty good position and fair

prospects, so I think they will get along, even if papa and mamma don't

come forward with munificent gifts in the shape of house and lands."

"And how do you feel about it?" asked Teddy bluntly.

"I? Oh, I am delighted." She smiled a reminiscent little smile. "I'm a

thousand times more unhappy at losing Polly, whom I hoped to have with

us this year, than I am at the loss of 'the hero.' Be sure of that,

Ted. I recovered from that attack long ago."

"He isn't one of the crushed illusions then?"

"No, indeed. 'When half-gods go the gods arrive.'"

Teddy climbed down from the step-ladder upon the top of which she

had been sitting, and crouching on the floor close to Janet, peered

interestedly up into her face. "Just what do you mean by that

enigmatical speech?" she asked.

"As if I could expound Emerson to you. Seek your own solution, my

dear." After which remark, Janet began to hum a popular air and

returned to the unpacking of her box.

Teddy went back to the hanging of her pictures saying: "At least you

are more cheerful than you were when you opened the box."

"My dear," said Janet, "even you would be aghast if you were suddenly

to discover that what you thought a complete victory had turned out to

be an apology for one, a defeat, as it were."

"Is that another enigma?" asked Teddy speaking with difficulty because

of the projection of several nails from her mouth.

"Why, no," was the reply; "nothing could be more obvious than the fact

I wish to convey to you; look at this." She held up the detached wing.

"There's some one at the other door; just see who it is, Janet," said

Teddy. "I've climbed up and down this ladder so many times that I am

getting cramps in my knees."

"It is only some of the freshmen, let them knock," said Janet, calmly

sorting over the contents of the box.

"Freshmen? Are you still at Hopper Hall, goose?"

"Oh, I forgot; really I did. I'll go."

She went to the door of the next room and opened it to admit Lee

Penrose.

"I came to borrow some alcohol," began Lee.

"Say that over again," said Janet, "and then again, Lee; it sounds so

good and natural. Of course that's what you came for. I believe you've

become so used to that formula that when you confront St. Peter at the

gate of heaven you'll murmur: 'I came to borrow some alcohol.' Come in.

How are you getting on up-stairs?"

"Oh, pretty well. It takes a good while to settle in a strange place,

much longer than when you know where to sling everything. I can't stay.

We are so tired that we are going to have some tea and stuff in our

rooms. Both Cordelia and I brought stores from home. Did you say you

had any alcohol?"

Janet returned to her task. "Look in those bottles on the floor behind

the door," she directed.

Lee began rattling among the bottles. "Here's one marked alcohol," she

said.

"Well, if it's marked alcohol, there ought to be alcohol in it," said

Janet.

Lee gave the bottle a gentle shake. "It seems about half full," she

said. "Shall I take it?"

"Oh, certainly. You are quite welcome to it," returned Janet, hiding a

smile.

And Lee went off triumphant.

Janet had risen from the unpacking of her box and was burrowing in the

depths of her trunk when a second sharp tap was heard at the door.

"Come in," said Janet, from under the trunk lid.

"Janet Ferguson, you are a fraud," said Lee's indignant voice. "We

filled the lamp full of that stuff; it must have been nothing but water

for the wick sputtered and sizzled and went out."

"Beggars shouldn't be choosers," said Janet, letting her trunk lid fall

with a thump. "I didn't say it was alcohol."

"Why, you did."

"No, I didn't. You said the bottle was marked alcohol, and I said if it

was so marked, alcohol it ought to be; that's all."

From her lofty perch Teddy looked down and chuckled.

"Well," Lee began, then she laughed. "I might have known you would play

some trick, Janet Ferguson. Now we've got to eat a cold lunch, unless—"

"Unless what?"

"You'll lend us your chafing-dish or samovar or something, for it will

take hours for that wick to dry."

"Then you deceived me," said Janet, "pretending that you had no

alcohol."

"Why, we haven't any."

"Then where's the good of a chafing-dish or a samovar, I'd like to

know?"

"But haven't you any alcohol?" asked Lee, innocently.

"Not a drop. This is not Hopper Hall, my sweeting. You will find that

if you want a thing here, you will have to provide it your own self.

Ted and I don't intend to keep alcohol on tap."

"What are you going to do without it?"

"We're going to use the gas or Mrs. Weed's kitchen stove."

"Why didn't we think of that?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Lack of the proper ingenuity, I suppose. By the

way, have you happened to have any protracted conversation with Mrs.

Weed?"

"No," replied Lee, "I've had no occasion for it. I've made some passing

remark when I met her on the stairs or in the entry but that is all."

"You will find her a mine of material. She would be worth thousands to

a Dickens. I was down in the kitchen this very morning pressing out a

rumpled waist that I had to have in a hurry, and our conversation went

something like this: 'You must be very fond of the college, Mrs. Weed,

you have lived near it for so long,' I began.

"'Yes, my dear, and I want the college to have my home after I have

done with it, if my children wish to sell it. I love my home. I've

lived here since my husband died. He was a beautiful man. I shed a

great many tears when he was taken.'

"'Yes, it must have been very hard,' I answered, rather at sea for

proper condolences and anxious to change the subject. 'I believe you

said you were from Vermont, Mrs. Weed. Do you ever go there now?'

"'No, my dear,' she said, 'I don't care to. It makes me think of my

dear mother, and of how many nice things she used to make. It always

makes me shed tears to think of all that.'

"'But you have such a pleasant home here, Mrs. Weed. You are almost

within the college grounds.' I made an effort to send the ball back to

my end of the field.

"'I know, and I enjoy the college grounds. I have seen a great many

changes, though. There used to be such a handsome rose-bush, just by

the entrance, but they took it up. I don't know why they did it. I sat

down and cried when it was gone; I missed it so.'

"'Of course you missed it, I can see that you would, but there are new

fashions in roses as well as in most things. You must have mothered a

great many students in all the years you have been here.' I sent the

ball off at another angle.

"'Yes, I have,' with a deep sigh, 'all kinds and sorts. There was one

I often think of. She went home to die. I shed a great many tears over

that young lady.'

"'It was very sad,' I murmured, feeling that I should soon be drowned

in these floods of tears. 'I have finished with the irons, Mrs. Weed,'

I said, 'I won't bother you again soon.'

"'Don't say that,' she said, 'for it makes me feel as if you were

afraid of me and that makes me feel like crying.'

"Whereupon I fled."

Lee and Teddy laughed. "I'll tackle her," said the former, "and perhaps

I can get permission to make a cup of tea."

"If you don't do it too often, she will be perfectly delighted to

accommodate you," said Janet, "but to-day you and Cordelia had better

come and lunch with us and I'll make the tea."

The invitation was readily accepted and Lee flew up-stairs to notify

Cordelia. Both appeared a few minutes later.

"We'll have to hang together," said Janet, "until we get used to

things, or we will all get in the dumps. It isn't a bit like old times,

is it, Cordelia?"

"No, I think it is better. When we get used to it, we shall be

very comfortable," she said. "I am already beginning to enjoy the

possibilities ahead of me. I've nothing against dear old Hopper

Hall, but I think its days of usefulness are past, so far as we are

concerned. There is such a raft of younger girls in there this year. We

upper classmen will enjoy the sweets of seclusion, I think. By the way,

I saw Mark, the perfect man, this summer. He was up at Gloucester. How

came you to know him so well?"

"How came I?" said Janet, slowly. "Do I know him well?"

"I thought so from the way he spoke of you. He quoted you and referred

to sundry walks in the country and such. He knew the Sunday rhyme you

made about the worm, too."

"Did he?" said Janet, indifferently. "I wonder who told him. Your vivid

imagination has enlarged the importance of the situation. I met him out

here at Ramsay's farm one never-to-be-forgotten Sunday last May when I

ran away from everybody. We had rather a nice off-to-ourselves morning,

I remember. After that I went, I think it was three times to that

little reading room at the other end of town. I told you about that, I

am sure."

"Is that all?" asked Cordelia, incredulously.

"I shall not go away off there this year," remarked Janet; "it is too

far, and I didn't fancy the experience as a steady thing. Do have some

of these preserves. They are home-made, you know. Mother packed me a

box of them, and I know they are good because the fruit came from our

own place and I helped to gather it."

Cordelia accepted the proffered sweets and did not notice that Janet

had deftly changed the subject.

"Does any one know who has our old rooms?" asked Teddy.

"Some little up-start freshmen," Lee told her. "It made me mad when I

was over there, to see them switching in and out our doors."

Cordelia laughed. "But why, Lee? We could have had them again if we

had wanted. Our coming here was our own choice. You didn't expect they

would seal up those rooms because of the sanctity lent them by our

presence."

"No, not that, of course; but it is on the same principle that I always

hate to see our housemaids wear my cast-off clothes."

"What would those freshmen say if they heard you making such a

comparison?" said Teddy. "What shall I do with the tea-leaves, Janet?"

"Teddy's practical mind is already devoting itself to the domestic side

of life," said Janet. "Chuck them in the fireplace, Ted. We'll have

a fire there some day, and burn up all the trash. An open fireplace

covers a multitude of sins. By the way, girls, that is another

perfectly lovely way of spending our time. When it gets colder, we can

cook all sorts of things over the open fire. I wish we had a crane like

those our forbears used. Yes, I foresee great satisfaction from this

fireplace."

"Janet has her heart's desire now," said Edna. "She has been yearning

for a hearthstone ever since we first came to college. I think life

ought to seem complete to her now."

Janet vouchsafed no reply but began to gather up the cups and saucers

preparatory to washing them, while Cordelia and Lee declared they must

get back to their rooms.

Janet's college career · 第 16 / 20 章