SHIRLEY’S FIRST DAY.
As Miss Schiff had notified the dean about the strange resemblance,
Shirley was obliged to meet no surprise on the dean’s part, or
embarrassment on her own during her first conference. She found the
dean dignified, receptive, kind in rather a reflective, serious way.
Shirley ascribed her manner partly to the fact of the resemblance, but
it was not even mentioned. Miss Irving asked her a few questions, then
directed her in regard to her immediate movements.
Soon Shirley was armed with the cards on slips which admitted her
to classes. These, she knew, would serve also to identify her. In
consequence, she went with quiet assurance to her class rooms,
determined to show no self-consciousness if she could help it.
In the college atmosphere, with her father one of the best loved
professors on the faculty, Shirley had been taught to think of others,
and that altruism, together with long custom in meeting teachers and
crowds of young people, helped her now. These classes were small and
held in pretty class rooms that pleased Shirley.
Sometimes Shirley felt a little amusement over the situation, but she
thought how very annoying it must be to the other girl to have a double
appear so unexpectedly, a girl who was to live under the same roof, go
to the same meals, attend the same classes for a whole school year. But
in spite of Shirley’s kind thought of the other girl, just how annoying
it was to Sidney Thorne she could scarcely know.
As she entered the first class, Shirley was more concerned with her
lack of preparation than with anything else. It was the class in
English. She went at once to the desk to speak to the teacher and
offer her name for enrollment. This teacher, too, must have had the
word passed to her, or must have seen her at breakfast, for she showed
no surprise and when Shirley said, “Of course, Miss Berry, I am not
prepared this morning,” she nodded pleasantly. “You may make up such
work as you have lost,” she said.
But while Shirley was detained at the desk for this enrollment, she was
in full view of the class, which had gathered before Shirley came in.
The conference with the dean had made her almost late.
There was a general gasp of astonishment, and a turning of heads toward
the row where Sidney Thorne sat, as if the girls found it necessary to
assure themselves of there being two. If any of them had seen Shirley
in the halls, or even noticed her in the dining room, it was most
likely that they had taken her for Sidney. That young lady was looking
at Shirley in well-bred surprise.
It cost Sidney something to control her surprise and dismay, but
control herself she did, turning to Hope, who sat beside her,
whispering with raised eyebrows, “Who is she?”
But the teacher was calling the class to order and the amazed Hope only
shook her head as unable to account for Shirley.
Madge, who sat just in front of Sidney, heard the question, turned
slightly, and said out of the corner of her mouth, “my new room-mate.”
The class was conducted as usual. Shirley, who had been directed to a
seat at the end of a row, was busy taking notes most of the time, for
Miss Berry was reviewing the main points of the previous lesson as well
as presenting the new one and calling on the different seniors for
recitation or comment.
It could have been her own voice reciting, Shirley thought, when
Sidney Thorne was called upon, and she wondered; yet enunciation and
intonation--something was different, and Sidney was using that “Boston”
variety of pronunciation at which the girls had laughed. Shirley felt
interested and a little drawn toward her double in spite of her wishing
that it might have not been this year, and this place of all others,
when the meeting had to occur.
Not all the seniors were present in every class. Some who were not
taking the regular college preparatory course were away from the Latin
class or from the class in mathematics. In consequence there was
usually some one to exclaim over the “new girl who looks exactly like
Sidney Thorne,” as the word went around. But Shirley paid no attention
to any slight commotion on her account. She could have recited in
Latin, but forgot to tell the Latin teacher that fact and was not
called on for a recitation. She wanted to hold up her hand several
times when questions of syntax came up. But something kept her from
doing so. She could wait.
She was glad now that her father had made her read that first two
hundred lines of Virgil with him. How she had hated it at the time, for
her schedule was already full enough, she thought. But he had insisted.
“I am not going to have my girl floundering around with her first
experience of Latin poetry,” said he. “It is very easy, but it will
seem hard at first, and with all due respect to the teacher, whoever
it may be, I should like to show you a few things myself about scansion
and get you into the easy rhythm of it. Come, now, sing of arms and the
hero!”
Shirley found herself thinking of her father during the recitation.
Two girls recited particularly well, though they were finding Virgil
none too easy at first, it was clear. They were Sidney Thorne and Olive
Mason.
Nothing happened of any great annoyance to Shirley that day, though
several times she was taken for Sidney. She felt that life had really
begun and when she found that the only lessons so far in mathematics
were in the nature of a review, her worries disappeared. She was a
rapid reader. Her English would be caught up in no time. French was
easy,--nothing could make a wave of trouble roll across her peaceful
breast, she told Madge and Caroline.
With them and Betty Terhune, after classes were over, Shirley went out
upon the campus again to wander there and in the wood and more open
grove. The girls were rather enjoying the distinction of having the new
girl in tow and being the center of so much interest among the girls.
Shirley quite forgot that her arrival was a sensation in exploring
the delights of the place. Once Caroline called her Sidney and Betty
started to do so later on, but changed. “Sid--” to Shirley.
“Duck on the rock” was fun down in the midst of the sand and pebbles.
Then the girls had her peep through a little window into the boat-house
to see the school launch. “We call it the yacht,” said Madge, “and I
guess it is a kind of one. It was given to the school, and the big boat
house, too, was given by one of our alumnae. See,--there is room for
the smaller boats inside, too. They all go inside to stay when real
winter comes.”
Shirley looked in. There was the pretty launch with its brass railings
and its mahogany finish. Shirley read the name, “Westlake,” and
exclaimed over the future delights which its very existence promised.
“I don’t see how I can wait for Saturday!” she cried, when Betty told
her that the seniors were to go out in it Saturday.
Perhaps it was largely from curiosity, but that evening, both before
and after dinner, a great many of the younger girls and most of the
seniors managed in some way to meet Shirley. “Introduce me to your
room-mate, Madge,” one of the girls would say. Or Betty and Cad, as
Caroline was almost universally called, would come up with a bevy of
girls to be introduced. Shirley appreciated Madge’s convoy, and knew
that Madge wanted to keep her from the embarrassment of being alone. It
was not really necessary, for Shirley was quite able to take care of
herself; but the circumstances were unusual, to say the least.
There was music in the parlors, with much lively conversation after the
girls had tired of being outside. They dressed for dinner, as it was
directed and their light, cool frocks were more suitable for the house
when the lake breezes blew strongly. Shirley had had an opportunity to
press her pretty orchid dress of soft silk, which looked suitable and
was becoming. She felt more at home in it than she had been able yet to
feel in the uniform, neat as it was, and comfortable.
Shirley’s wardrobe, however, was limited. It had seemed better to do
the big things, like the trips and the year at school, even if economy
were necessary in the doing. From the catalogue Mrs. Harcourt and Miss
Dudley had found the list of garments permitted, or required. These
Shirley possessed. It was good fun to be away at school, Shirley was
thinking tonight. Suppose she did look like some one else. That would
be a nine days’ wonder. But she noticed that Sidney Thorne did not come
up to meet her. When Shirley entered the parlors with Madge, Sidney
immediately found it necessary to go to her room and begin work on her
lessons or some committee report. “Poor girl,” Shirley thought, as she
noticed Sidney’s hurried departure, “she has had a shock!”
It was not long before Shirley herself thought that she must waste no
more time with the girls. She, too must master her lessons. Madge went
upstairs with her, but said that she would not study until regular
hours began. Leaving Shirley to her usual concentration, Madge hurried
around to Cad’s room to “indulge in a little harmless gossip,” she told
her hostess. “I’m glad that Stella isn’t in. Lucky that she practices
half the time.”
“Yes, and the rest of the time she is with her musical chum. It is a
wonder that she does not want to room with her.”
“How did you like my room-mate?” Madge asked Betty.
“Very much. It’s eerie, though, to see how much she looks like Sidney.
When you are with her for a while you do seem to see that she is
different.”
“A different personality altogether,” airily stated Caroline. “It’s
funny, though. She even walks like Sidney,--that light springy way,
awfully independent, you know, with her chin up. But Shirley seems more
interested in everything than Sidney will let herself be.”
“Sidney thinks that it is not ‘good form’ to show surprise at anything.
It is new to Shirley, too. Then she isn’t as stand-offish as Sidney was
when she first came here. It certainly is going to be fun to watch the
differences and to tell them apart. The uniform, too, makes it worse.
If they only could dress differently!”
“Sidney will have something on tomorrow, Betty,” said Madge, “depend
upon it, girls, that will let her friends know which is which!”
“Yes,” replied Betty, “and poor old Sidney is thinking right now that
she would like to leave and go to some other school.”
“Suppose she did!” cried Caroline.
“No,” said Betty, “I think that I know Sidney well enough to say that
she will stick it out and not be driven away. She may want to go, and
hate it like everything to have some one look like her very twin, but
she will stay, for pride’s sake if for nothing else. And nobody will
know how she hates it, either.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The Double Three will know it.”
“She may say something at first, when she is so surprised. But nobody
will be _sure_. Maybe she will not care as much as I think she will.
But I think that it would be something of a shock to any one, and
especially to Sidney.”
The girls agreed that having a double who wasn’t your twin would
scarcely be desirable. Still, Shirley Harcourt was a very attractive
girl.
Other girls beside Madge and her friends were commenting that evening
upon the sensation of the day. Some of them declared that they could
see a difference in the two girls; others exclaimed that the new girl
looked _exactly_ like Sidney.
Sidney Thorne herself was very deeply annoyed, as she said frankly,
though with reservations, to Fleta. “Yes, it will be a perfect
nuisance to be taken for some one else or have some one taken for you.
Fortunately the new senior seems to be unobjectionable so far as we can
see. On the whole, I suppose that it is not very important. I shall ask
the dean if I may not wear something which will identify me, to you
girls, at least. In time every one will recognize some difference, I
hope. We certainly can not look exactly alike and I shall adopt some
different arrangement of my hair. Wouldn’t you, Irma?”
“That would be a good idea,” said Irma, who was quickly getting into
something more comfortable than her dinner dress.
Sidney disappeared into her bedroom and came back with a pretty
cluster of artificial flowers taken from her coat. “There,” she said,
“I’ll wear this tomorrow. Everybody has seen me with this new bunch of
posies.”
“You’d better wear something over your shoulders behind, too,” said
Fleta. “I’d suggest a placard, ‘This is Sidney.’”
“Fleta!”
“Excuse me, Sid; I was trying to be funny.”
Sidney did not reply, but stood pulling out the flowers for a better
effect. Fleta gave a quick glance at Irma, who frowned at her; and
Edith, who also caught Fleta’s eye, shook her head, and lifted her
hands in an expression of “It’s beyond me!”
Sidney now picked up her uniform and fastened the flowers high upon its
shoulder. “Now,” she said, “that will be seen from either direction,
Fleta. We can dismiss it all, I hope. It probably will not be very
disagreeable as soon as it gets past the stage of mixing us up. Better
not tell any of your secrets, girls, or talk about the Double Three,
until you are sure it is I. Odd,--they say that twins think it fun to
be taken for each other and like to mystify people.”
Fleta reported this to Dulcie, when Dulcie, in bathrobe and slippers,
met her in the hall and asked her what Sidney thought of the “new girl
who is her image.”
“She can’t like it very well,” Fleta answered, “but she is very
dignified about it.”
“Sidney would be. I hope that she won’t make it hard for the new girl.
She could, you know.”
“Yes; but Sidney never does mean things.”
“Sidney is honorable, but she can let a girl alone about as well as any
one I know; and it makes a difference here, whether you are a friend of
Sidney’s or not.”
“Yes,” thoughtfully Fleta assented. “She says now we must make sure
that it is she we are talking to, when we tell any secrets or talk
about the Double Three.”
Dulcie laughed. “We must have a pass word, then,” she said.