VIRGINIA CHANGES HER MIND
What the vanquished sophomores thought of the trick that had been played
on them was a matter for speculation. Once back in Overton, the truth of
the situation had dawned upon them. Their common sense told them that
real ghosts, if there were any, never congregated in companies the size
of the one that had risen to haunt them the previous night. Obviously
some one had overheard their plan to picnic at Hunter's Rock and treated
them to an unwelcome surprise. It did not occur to any one of them until
they had returned to their respective houses that they had left J.
Elfreda locked in the haunted abode of the two brothers. Then
consternation reigned in each sophomore breast.
Directly after chapel the next morning, eight young women were to be
seen in an anxious group just outside the chapel. Several freshmen and
two or three juniors glanced appraisingly at them, then passed on.
"Did you notice the way that Miss Wells looked at me this morning?"
muttered Mary Hampton to her satellites.
"Never mind a little thing like that," snapped Alberta Wicks. "The
question is, where is J. Elfreda? If she is still shut up in that house
we might as well go home now instead of waiting to be sent there."
"Nonsense, Bert," scoffed one of the sophomores. "You are nervous. We
may not be found out."
"Found out! J. Elfreda will be raging. She'll go straight to the dean,
the minute she is free. Oh, why didn't we think to run back and let her
out in spite of those ridiculous white figures?"
"What made you lock her in there, then, if you were afraid she'd tell?"
asked one of the others rather sarcastically.
"Yes, that's what I say!" exclaimed a second. "This affair has been very
silly from start to finish. I'm ashamed of myself for having been drawn
into it, and in future you may count me out of any more such stunts."
"You girls don't understand," declared Alberta Wicks angrily. "We only
meant to even an old score with the Briggs person. We were going to call
for her on the way home, and tell her that we had evened our score. She
wouldn't have breathed it to a soul. She knew that we'd make life
miserable for her next year if she did. She wouldn't tell a little thing
like that, but to leave her there all night. That really was dreadful.
Mary and I are in for it. That's certain."
"If I'm not mistaken, there goes Miss Briggs now!" exclaimed a girl who
had been idly watching the students as they passed out of the chapel.
"Where? Where?" questioned Mary and Alberta together.
The sophomore pointed.
"Yes; it is J. Elfreda," almost wailed Alberta Wicks. "I'm going
straight back to Stuart Hall and pack my trunk. Come on, Mary."
"Better wait a little," dryly advised the sophomore who had announced
her disapproval of the night's escapade. "You may be sorry if you
don't."
"Good-bye, girls," said Alberta abruptly. "If I hear anything, I'll
report to you at once. Now that J. Elfreda is among us, we'd better
steer clear of one another for a while at least."
She hurried away, followed by Mary Hampton.
"That was my first, and if I get safely out of this, will be my last
offense," said another sophomore firmly. "All those who agree with me
say 'aye.'" Five "ayes" were spoken simultaneously.
In the meantime, Grace was trying vainly to make up her mind what to do.
Should she go directly to the two mischievous sophomores, revealing the
identity of the ghosts, or should she leave them in a quandary as to the
outcome of their unwomanly trick? One thing had been decided upon
definitely by Grace and her friends. They would tell no tales. Grace
could not help thinking that a little anxiety would be the just due of
the plotters, and with this idea in mind determined to do nothing for a
time, at least, toward putting them at their ease.
But there was one person who had not been asked to remain silent
concerning the ghost party, and that person was Elfreda. Grace had
forgotten to tell her that the night's happenings were to be kept a
secret and when late that afternoon she espied Alberta Wicks and Mary
Hampton walking in the direction of Stuart Hall she pursued them with
the air of an avenger. Before they realized her presence she had begun a
furious arraignment of their treachery. "You ought to be sent home for
it," she concluded savagely, "and if Grace Harlowe wasn't----"
"Grace Harlowe!" exclaimed Alberta, turning pale. "Do you mean to tell
me that it was she who planned that ghost party?"
"I shall tell you nothing," retorted Elfreda. "I'm sorry I said even
that much. I want you to understand, though, that if you ever try to
play a trick on me again, I'll see that you are punished for it if I
have to go down on my knees to the whole faculty to get them to give you
what you deserve. Just remember that, and mind your own business,
strictly, from now on."
Turning on her heel, the stout girl marched off, leaving the two girls
in a state of complete perturbation.
"Had we better go and see Miss Harlowe?" asked Mary Hampton, rather
unsteadily.
"The question is, do we care to come back here next year?" returned
Alberta grimly.
"I'd like to come back," said Mary in a low voice. "Wouldn't you?"
"I don't know," was the perverse answer. "I don't wish to humble myself
to any one. I'm going to take a chance on her keeping quiet about last
night. I have an idea she is not a telltale. If worse comes to worst,
there are other colleges, you know, Mary."
"I thought, perhaps, if we were to go to Miss Harlowe, we might
straighten out matters and be friends," said Mary rather hesitatingly.
"Those girls have nice times together, and they are the cleverest crowd
in the freshman class. I'm tired of being at sword's points with
people."
"Then go over to them, by all means," sneered Alberta. "Don't trouble
yourself about your old friends. They don't count."
"You know I didn't mean that, Bert," said Mary reproachfully. "I won't
go near them if you feel so bitter about last night."
It was several minutes before Mary succeeded in conciliating her sulky
friend. By that time the tiny sprouts of good fellowship that had vainly
tried to poke their heads up into the light had been hopelessly blighted
by the chilling reception they met with, and Mary had again been won
over to Alberta's side.
Saturday evening Arline Thayer entertained the ghost party at Martell's,
and Elfreda, to her utter astonishment, was made the guest of honor.
During the progress of the dinner, Alberta Wicks, Mary Hampton and two
other sophomores dropped in for ice cream. By their furtive glances and
earnest conversation it was apparent that they strongly suspected the
identity of the avenging specters. Elfreda's presence, too, confirmed
their suspicions.
In a spirit of pure mischief Mabel Ashe pulled a leaf from her note
book. Borrowing a pencil, she made an interesting little sketch of two
frightened young women fleeing before a band of sheeted specters.
Underneath she wrote: "It is sometimes difficult to lay ghosts. Walk
warily if you wish to remain unhaunted." This she sent to Alberta Wicks
by the waitress. It was passed from hand to hand, and resulted in four
young women leaving Martell's without finishing their ice cream.
"You spoiled their taste for ice cream, Mabel," laughed Frances Marlton,
glancing at the now vacant table. "I imagine they are shaking in their
shoes."
"They did not think that the juniors had taken a hand in things,"
remarked Constance Fuller.
"Hardly," laughed Helen Burton. "Did you see their faces when they read
that note?"
"It's really too bad to frighten them so," said Leona Rowe.
"I don't agree with you, Leona," said Mabel Ashe firmly. Her charming
face had grown grave. "I think that Miss Wicks and Miss Hampton both
ought to be sent home. If you will look back a little you will recollect
that these two girls were far from being a credit to their class during
their freshman year. I don't like to say unkind things about an Overton
girl, but those two young women were distinctly trying freshmen, and as
far as I can see haven't imbibed an iota of college spirit. Last night's
trick, however, was completely overstepping the bounds. If Miss Briggs
had been a timid, nervous girl, matters might have resulted quite
differently. Then it would have been our duty to report the mischief
makers. I am not sure that we are doing right in withholding what we
now know from the faculty, but I am willing to give these girls the
benefit of the doubt and remain silent."
"That is my opinion of the matter, too," agreed Grace. "It is only a
matter of a few days until we shall all have to say good-bye until fall.
During vacation certain girls will have plenty of time to think things
over, and then they may see matters in an entirely different light. I
shouldn't like to think that almost my last act before going home to my
mother was to give some girl a dismissal from Overton to take home to
hers."
A brief silence followed Grace's remark. The little speech about her
mother had turned the thoughts of the girls homeward. Suddenly Mabel
Ashe rose from her chair. "Here's to our mothers, girls. Let's dedicate
our best efforts to them, and resolve never to lessen their pride in us
with failures."
[Illustration: Over the Tea and Cakes the Clouds Dispersed.]
When Elfreda, Miriam, Anne and Grace ran up the steps of Wayne Hall at a
little before ten o'clock they were laughing and talking so happily they
failed to notice Virginia Gaines, who had been walking directly ahead of
them. She had come from Stuart Hall, where, impatient to learn just what
had happened the night before, she had gone to see Mary and Alberta.
Finding them out she managed to learn the news from the very girl who
had declared herself sorry for her part in the escapade. This particular
sophomore, now that the reaction had set in, was loud in her
denunciation of the trick and congratulated Virginia on not being one of
those intimately concerned in it.
But Virginia, now conscience-stricken, had little to say.
She still lingered in the hall as the quartette entered, but they passed
her on their way upstairs without speaking and she finally went to her
room wishing, regretfully, that she had been less ready to quarrel with
the girls who bade fair to lead their class both in scholarship and
popularity. It was fully a week afterward when a thoroughly humbled and
repentant Virginia, after making sure that Anne was out, knocked one
afternoon at Grace's door.
"How do you do, Miss Gaines," said Grace civilly, but without warmth.
"Won't you come in?"
Virginia entered, but refused the chair Grace offered her. "No, thank
you, I'll stand," she replied. Then in a halting fashion she said: "Miss
Harlowe, I--am--awfully sorry for--for being so hateful all this year."
She stopped, biting her lip, which quivered suspiciously.
Grace stared at her caller in amazement. Could it be possible that
insolent Virginia Gaines was meekly apologizing to her. Then,
thoughtful of the other girl's feelings, she smiled and stretched out
her hand: "Don't say anything further about it, Miss Gaines. I hope we
shall be friends. One can't have too many, you know, and college is the
best place in the world for us to find ourselves. Come in to-night and
have tea and cakes with us after lessons. That is the highest proof of
hospitality I can offer at present."
"I will," promised Virginia. Then impulsively she caught one of Grace's
hands in hers. "You're the dearest girl," she said, "and I'll try to be
worthy of your friendship. Please tell the girls I'm sorry. I'll tell
them myself to-night." With that she fairly ran from the room, and going
to her own shed tears of real contrition. Later, it took all Grace's
reasoning powers to put Elfreda in a state of mind that verged even
slightly on charitable, but after much coaxing she promised to behave
with becoming graciousness toward Virginia.
Over the tea and cakes the clouds gradually dispersed, and when Virginia
went to her room that night, after declaring that she had had a
perfectly lovely time, Grace took from her writing case the note that
Miriam had found, and tore it into small pieces. She needed no evidence
against Virginia.