THE LOCKED DOOR
When Evelyn and Jean Brent reached the street it was to find the other
young women grouped together in conversation, and not at all alarmed at
Evelyn's non-appearance.
"We weren't worried," Emma Dean assured her. "We've all been known to
lag and loiter."
"I lagged and loitered to some purpose," defended Evelyn. "Miss Harlowe,
this is Miss Brent, my roommate." She introduced the stranger to the
others.
Grace's hand was extended in surprised welcome. "We have been looking
for you since Monday," she said. "You are the girl who sat at the end
table at Vinton's. If I had known you were Miss Brent I would have asked
you to join us. I am so glad Miss Ward broke the ice. How did it
happen?"
"I had lost my purse," returned the girl, rather shyly, in spite of her
air of self-possession. Then reassured by Grace's charming manner, she
told her story.
"You must come with us to Harlowe House at once. It is such a pity that
you met with misfortune." Grace's gray eyes were full of sympathy.
"Have you much luggage?"
"Four trunks," was the rueful answer. "You see I have so many clothes
that--" She stopped abruptly, a deep flush dying her fair skin, "I had
no place--I did not like to leave them, so I had to bring them with me,"
she finished, rather lamely.
Grace did not ask further questions. She noted that the girl was ill at
ease. "I received Miss Lipton's letter regarding you a week ago," she
hastened to say. "I wrote her, as you know, that we could place you. She
answered saying we might expect you at almost any time. After you have
had a chance to rest and make yourself comfortable I will tell you of
Harlowe House and the girls who live there."
One after the other the girls spoke friendly, encouraging words to the
unfortunate freshman. Kathleen and Patience possessed themselves of her
heavy bag, carrying it between them. Grace walked with the newcomer,
pointing out the various interesting features of the little college
town, in an attempt to put the stranger entirely at her ease after her
disquieting experience. So far she had had slight opportunity to observe
this latest freshman arrival. She had a vague idea that Jean Brent was
an unusually attractive girl, but the side view she obtained of her, as
they walked along, was far from satisfactory. The newcomer said little,
and only once during the short walk to Harlowe House did she turn a pair
of very blue eyes directly upon Grace.
It fell to Evelyn Ward to show her to her room, as she was to be
Evelyn's roommate. The girl had exclaimed a little, after the manner of
girls, at the attractiveness of Harlowe House, but in spite of her brief
flare of enthusiasm over the house and grounds, the tasteful living room
and the daintiness of the room she and Evelyn occupied, she encased
herself in a curious, impenetrable shell of mystery that Evelyn's
natural curiosity could find no excuse to penetrate. She listened
gravely and attentively to all that Evelyn told her of Harlowe House and
its lucky household, but she volunteered no information concerning
herself except a reluctant, "I came from the West," in answer to her
roommate's question as to where she lived.
The more Evelyn observed her the more attractive she appeared. She was
of medium height, and, although plump, could not be called stout. Her
face was rather round, with no suggestion of fatness, while her features
were small and regular. Her eyes were not large, but their intense
blueness made them a significant feature of her face. Her hair was light
brown and had a burnished look in the sun. It grew thickly upon her
well-shaped head, and she wore it in a graceful knot at the back of her
head. When she smiled, which had been but once since Evelyn first
encountered her, she displayed unusually white, even teeth. It dawned
upon Evelyn as she watched her unpacking her bag that Jean Brent had not
only her share of good looks but a curious power of attraction as well
that would carry her far toward college popularity if she chose to exert
it. She wondered if she and Jean would get along well together. Although
the new Evelyn had made great progress in ruling her own spirit she was
well aware of her failings. She was quite sure, in her own mind, that
never again would the love of beautiful clothes tempt her to dishonesty,
but of herself, in other respects, she was not so positive. Still she
had resolved to live up to the traditions of Overton College, to emulate
the splendid example Grace Harlowe had already set.
She glanced speculatively at her roommate, but the latter's calm,
impassive expression told her nothing. Suddenly, as though impelled by
Evelyn's gaze, the other girl glanced up and met Evelyn's eyes squarely.
"Well, what do you think of me?" she inquired. "I think _you_ are the
prettiest girl I ever saw."
Evelyn flushed at both the question and the compliment. Jean Brent was
nothing if not frank. "I know I'm going to like you. I was just
wondering if we would fit into each other's lives."
"I have a frightful temper," admitted Jean Brent somberly. "Sometimes
I'm glad of it. If I hadn't--" She paused.
Evelyn waited for her to continue, but she gave a quick sigh, and,
springing to her feet, walked to the window. From there she could look
out at the campus, still green and velvety. For at least five minutes
she stood staring out. Then, with the air of one who casts aside a
disagreeable memory, she turned from the window, saying: "I'm going to
forget everything except the fact that I'm actually an Overton girl."
"Were you anxious to come to Overton?" asked Evelyn.
"No. I came here because of the advantages Harlowe House offers. I heard
of it through a friend. I wanted to go to Smith, but--oh, well, here I
am at Overton. Let's talk about you. I know you are interesting. You
look just like the picture of a girl I saw in a magazine I was reading
on the train. She is an actress. I didn't stop to read her name, but I
loved her picture. I think I brought the magazine along. Oh, yes, there
it is." She reached for the magazine, which lay on the table, and turned
the leaves energetically. "Here is the picture," she declared. Evelyn
found herself gazing at her own likeness. She began to laugh.
"What's the matter?" demanded Jean. Her color rose in instant resentment
of Evelyn's laughter.
Evelyn pointed to the printed name under the picture. "I am Evelyn Ward,
you know."
"But not the _actress_?" Jean's blue eyes were wide with amazement.
Evelyn nodded laughingly. "That's my way of earning my tuition money and
my clothes," she explained. "I was never on the stage until last
summer." She went on to tell the astonished Jean of her meeting with the
Southards and her final stage début.
"How interesting!" exclaimed Jean. "I suppose all the Harlowe House
girls earn their college fees. I wonder how I can earn mine. I had quite
a sum toward them when I left--" again came the abrupt stop. "Oh, dear,"
she sighed the next moment, "I wish I'd been more careful of my money. I
had no business to lay my bag down. What's the use of regretting? I'll
have to think of some way to raise that money. If I can't find it any
other way I can sell my clothes. I have perfectly _beautiful_ things.
Four trunks full. Lots more than I can wear. It is lucky for me that--"
She checked herself guiltily.
"That what?" asked Evelyn. She was beginning to feel a vague impatience
at the strange way in which Jean Brent chopped off her sentences. And
how recklessly she talked about selling her clothes.
"That I have you for a roommate," smiled the mysterious freshman. "I
wonder how much the expressman will charge to bring my trunks from the
station. Then, too, I wonder where I can put them. I wouldn't think of
spoiling the looks of our room with them."
"You can put one of them over in that corner," planned Evelyn, "and we
could get one into the closet. It's large and quite light. The other two
Miss Harlowe will allow you to leave in the trunk room."
"I suppose it will cost a small fortune to have them delivered,"
demurred Jean. "I can't have the sale, either, until I know some of the
girls who would be interested in my wares. I'll have to telegraph my
friend to send me some money. Will you go with me to the telegraph
office. I don't know the way. I'll ask Miss Harlowe to pay the
expressman. Then I'll pay her when my money comes. Frenzied finance,
isn't it? But if you knew--" Again that maddening break.
"I'll pay the expressman," volunteered Evelyn. "If I were you I'd talk
things over with Miss Harlowe. She knows that you lost your purse. Very
likely she has already thought of something you can do. I don't think
she would like to have you sell your clothes."
"I don't see why she should object," declared Jean, with quick
impatience. "However, I'll do my hair over again, and wash my face and
hands, then I'll go down stairs and have a talk with her. She said she'd
be in her office."
"Run down and talk with her now, then we'll go to the telegraph office,"
said Evelyn.
Twenty minutes later Jean entered the little office where Grace sat
engaged in the work she had been doing when interrupted by her friends
earlier in the afternoon. Like Evelyn, she was keenly alive to her
latest charge's good looks. "How attractive she is," was her thought as
she invited Jean to take the chair opposite hers.
"I suppose you would like to know something of our household, Miss
Brent," began Grace. "We are not only a household, but we are members of
a social club as well. You are the thirty-fourth girl. Last year Miss
Thirty-four never materialized, so Miss Ward roomed alone. There isn't
so so much to tell you regarding the rules and regulations of Harlowe
House. The club takes care of most of them with its constitution and
by-laws." Opening a drawer of her desk, Grace took out a paper-covered
booklet and handed it to the freshman. "This will give you nearly all
the necessary information," she said. "If I were in your place I would
go to the registrar's office reasonably early to-morrow morning. You can
then learn whether you will be obliged to take the entrance
examinations. Having been graduated from a preparatory school you may be
exempt. When did Miss Lipton's school close?"
"Last June," returned Jean briefly.
"But you have seen her since then, have you not? Her letter gave me the
impression that you had been with her recently. Do you live in Grafton,
or were you visiting Miss Lipton?"
The fair face opposite her own was suddenly flooded with red.
"I--I--was--on--a visit recently to Miss Lipton," she answered, with
reluctance. She did not volunteer the name of her home town.
For the first time Grace became aware of the curious reticence that had
vaguely annoyed Evelyn. "Where do you live, Miss Brent!" she asked with
the sudden directness so characteristic of her.
For a moment the girl did not reply, then her color receded, leaving
her face very white. "My home is in Chicago," she said slowly. "My
father and mother are dead. I have always lived with"--she
hesitated--"friends. Miss Lipton was a friend of my mother's. Surely her
word will not be questioned by the faculty." She glanced at Grace with a
half challenging air.
Something in her tone brought the color to Grace's cheeks. Why could not
this girl be perfectly frank in her replies? Now that Evelyn Ward had
turned out so beautifully, Grace had been looking forward to a year of
open comradeship with her girls, yet here she was face to face with what
promised to be one of those baffling natures that required especially
tactful handling to bring out the best that lay within it.
"I have no doubt that Miss Sheldon will place the utmost dependence in
Miss Lipton's word," returned Grace gravely.
"If she doesn't, I--oh, well, to-morrow will tell the tale. I wish you
would tell me more of Harlowe House. It is a wonderful place. I wanted
to go to Smith, but I believe this will be nicer after all. Only
I--shall--have to earn my college fees. Miss Ward said perhaps you would
help me think of a way to earn money. I have nothing in the world except
clothes, clothes, clothes. After I've been here for awhile I'd like to
have a sale of them. I have loads of lovely things. If I could only sell
enough of them to pay my fees."
"But you will need your clothing for your own use, will you not?" Jean
Brent was momently growing more inexplicable.
Jean shook her head energetically. "I don't care for clothes," she said
eagerly. "I could live in a coat suit and plenty of blouses all year. I
_do_ care for college, though. If I hadn't cared, I would never--" She
suddenly checked herself. "Do you think the girls would buy my things?"
she asked in the next instant. "They are nearly all new and fresh."
"I am sure they would be interested," was Grace's honest reply, "but I
cannot allow you to hold a sale of your wardrobe. I think such a
proceeding would be unwise. Why----"
"Please don't ask me why, Miss Harlowe, for I can't tell you." Jean had
risen to her feet, two pleading eyes fixed on Grace. "I can only say
that if I had not lost my money everything would be different. There are
strong reasons why I can't explain to you about my being without money,
yet having so many clothes, but I assure you that I have done nothing
wrong or dishonorable. If you are not satisfied with my explanation and
wish to send me away, of course I can only go, but if you are willing
to trust me and let me stay I'll try to do my best for you and Harlowe
House. I'm sorry you disapprove of my having a sale of my things."
Grace looked long at the earnest young face. Mystifying as were her
statements, Jean Brent had the appearance of honesty. Taking one of the
girl's hands in both her own, she said, "I don't in the least understand
you, Miss Brent, but I will respect your secret."
"Thank you so much for your kindness to me, Miss Harlowe." With an
almost distant nod the prospective freshman rose and left the office
with almost rude abruptness.
"What a strange girl," mused Grace.
Her musing was interrupted by the breezy entrance of Emma Dean. "Hello,
Gracious," she hailed. "Why so pensive?"
"I'm not pensive. I'm puzzled, and a little worried," returned Grace.
"Our latest arrival is a most complex study."
"I suspected it," was Emma's cheerful rejoinder. "One of the 'There was
the Door to which I found no Key' variety, so to speak."
"I'm going to tell you all about it," decided Grace, "for I need your
advice." She related her interview with Jean Brent.
"Miss Lipton, the head of the Lipton Preparatory School, at Grafton,
writes beautifully of Miss Brent," went on Grace. "I know the faculty
would consider her word sufficient to enroll this girl, but I feel that
I ought to be doubly careful to keep my household irreproachable. I
don't like mysteries when it comes to admitting a new girl to the fold.
Still, Miss Brent impresses me as being honest and sincere. Besides,
I've promised to help her."
"Don't worry, Gracious," advised Emma, "you may be harboring a princess
unawares. The Riddle may turn out to be the Shahess of Persia, or the
Grand Vizieress of Bagdad or some other royal person. She may be the
moving feature of a real Graustark plot."
"Stop being ridiculous, Emma, and tell me what I ought to do." Grace's
smooth forehead puckered in a frown which her laughing lips denied.
Emma was instantly serious. "We do not know just how much college may
mean to her," was her quick response. "If she chooses to shroud herself
in mystery, I believe it is because of something which concerns herself
alone."
There was a brief silence, then Grace said: "You are right. To be an
Overton girl may mean more to Jean Brent than we can possibly know. I'm
going to take her on faith. Perhaps she'll find college the key that
will unlock the door to perfect understanding."