AN UNPLEASANT TABLEMATE
Despite the unpropitious events of the afternoon, evening saw a merry
little party in full swing in Judith's and Jane's room.
Barbara Temple and Christine Ellis came over from Argyle Hall. The
five-thirty train had brought not only Dorothy Martin but Mary Ashton as
well. Eight o'clock saw them calling on Judith and Jane, along
with Adrienne and Ethel. Of the old clan, Norma Bennett alone was
absent, a loss which was loudly lamented by all.
So swiftly did time fly that the party ended in a mad scurry to comply
with the inexorable half-past ten o'clock rule.
Jane went to bed that night considerably lighter of heart. Reunion with
the girls who were nearest to her had driven the afternoon's
unpleasantness from her thoughts, for the time being at least. The
friendly presence of those she loved had proved a powerful antidote.
A night's sound sleep served to separate her further from the
disagreeable incidents of the previous day. She had two things, at
least, to be glad of, she reflected, as she dressed next morning. She
was back in her own room. More, she now stood on an entirely different
footing with Mrs. Weatherbee than heretofore.
This last was brought home to her more strongly than ever when, in going
down to breakfast, she passed the matron on her way to the dining-room
and received a smiling "Good morning, Miss Allen."
It was at decided variance with the reserved manner in which Mrs.
Weatherbee had formerly been wont to greet her.
"Well, we are once again at the same table," remarked Adrienne as Jane
slipped into the place at table she had occupied during her freshman
year. "Until last night I ate the meals alone. It was _triste_."
Adrienne's profound air of melancholy made both Jane and Dorothy laugh.
"What made you come back to college so early, dear Imp?" questioned
Dorothy, smiling indulgently at the little girl.
"I had the longing to see the girls," Adrienne replied simply. "This
past summer I have greatly missed all of you."
"We've all missed one another, I guess," Jane said soberly. "Often out
on the ranch I've wished you could all be with me. Next summer you must
come. I'm going to give a house party."
"What rapture!" Adrienne clasped her small hands. "I, for one, will
accept the invitation, and now."
Somewhat to Jane's surprise Dorothy said not a word. She merely stared
at Jane, a curiously wistful expression in her gray eyes.
"Don't you want to come to my house party, Dorothy?"
Though the question was playfully asked it held a hint of pained
surprise.
"Of course I'd like to come. I will--if I can." This last was added with
a little sigh. "Did you bring Firefly East with you, this year, Jane?"
she inquired with abrupt irrelevance.
"Yes. Pedro started East ahead of me with Firefly. They haven't arrived
yet. Are you going to ride this year, Dorothy?"
Jane was wondering what had occasioned in Dorothy this new, wistful
mood. It was entirely unlike her usual blithe, care-free self.
"I'm afraid not." The shadow on Dorothy's fine face had deepened.
"Frankly, I can't afford to keep a riding horse here. I don't mind
telling just you two that it was a question with me as to whether I
ought to come back to college. We were never rich, you know, just in
comfortable circumstances. This summer Father met with financial losses
and we're almost poor. Both Father and Mother were determined that I
should come back to Wellington on account of it being my last year. So
I'm here. I've not brought any new clothes with me, though, and I shall
have to be very economical."
Dorothy smiled bravely as she made this frank confession.
"Who cares whether your clothes are new of old, Dorothy?" came
impulsively from Jane. "It's having you here that counts. Nothing else
matters. I'm ever so sorry that your father has met with such
misfortune."
"Ah, yes! I too, have the sorrow that such bad luck has come to your
father. _We_ are the lucky ones, because you have come back to us,"
Adrienne agreed impressively.
"You're dears, both of you. Shake hands."
Her eyes eloquent with affection, Dorothy's hand went out to Jane, then
to Adrienne.
"We try to be like you, _ma chere_," was Adrienne's graceful response.
"That's very pretty, Imp," acknowledged Dorothy, flushing. "I'll have to
watch my step to merit that compliment. Now that you've heard the sad
story of the poverty-stricken senior, I call for a change of subject.
Did you know that Edith Hammond isn't coming back?"
"She isn't!"
Jane looked her surprise at this unexpected bit of news.
"No. Edith is going to be married," Dorothy informed. "She was
heart-whole and fancy-free when she left here last June. Then she went
with her family to the Catskills for the summer. She met her fate there;
a young civil engineer. They're to be married in November. She wrote me
a long letter right after she became betrothed. Later I received a card
announcing her engagement."
"I hope she'll be very happy," Jane spoke with evident sincerity. "I'm
so glad we grew to be friendly before college closed last June. It was
awfully awkward and embarrassing for us when we had to sit opposite
each other at this table three times a day without speaking."
Tardy recollection of the fact that there had also been a time when the
wires of communication were down between herself and Dorothy, caused a
tide of red to mount upward to Jane's forehead.
The eyes of the two girls meeting, both smiled. Each read the other's
thoughts. Such a catastrophe would not occur again.
"I wonder how many new girls there will be at the Hall," Dorothy glanced
curiously about the partially filled dining-room. "Let me see. We had
four graduates from Madison. Edith isn't coming back. That makes five
vacancies to be filled. Do you know of any others?"
The approach of a maid with a heavily laden breakfast tray, left the
question unanswered for the moment.
"You forget, _la petite_," reminded Adrienne as she liberally sugared
her sliced peaches. "She will no longer live at the top of the house.
She has already made the arrangements to room with Mary Ashton. So there
are but four vacancies. I would greatly adore to be with my Norma, but
Ethel is the good little roommate. I am satisfied."
Adrienne dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand.
"Norma can have Edith's place at our table," suggested Dorothy. "That
will be nice. I'll speak to Mrs. Weatherbee about it right after
breakfast."
"Perhaps we should not wait until then."
Adrienne half rose from her chair. Noting that the matron's place at
another table was vacant she sat down again.
"Here she comes now!"
Jane followed her announcement with a muffled "Oh!" Mrs. Weatherbee was
advancing toward their table and not alone. Behind her walked the
aggressive Miss Noble.
"Miss Noble, this is Miss Martin." The matron placidly proceeded with
the introductions and rustled off, unconscious that she had precipitated
a difficult situation. Her mind occupied with other matters, she had
failed to note the stiff little bows exchanged by three of the
quartette.
It had not been lost upon Dorothy, however. Greeting the newcomer in her
usual gracious fashion, she wondered what ailed Jane and Adrienne.
"Have you examinations to try, Miss Noble?" she asked pleasantly, by way
of shattering the frigid silence that had settled down on three of the
group.
"No, indeed." The girl tossed her black head. "_I_ am from Burleigh."
"Oh! A prep school, I suppose?" Dorothy inquired politely. The name was
unfamiliar to her.
"One of the most exclusive in the Middle West," was the prompt answer,
given with a touch of arrogance. "I must say, Wellington doesn't compare
very favorably with it in _my_ opinion."
A faint sparkle of resentment lit the wide gray eyes Dorothy turned
squarely on the freshman.
"That's rather hard on Wellington," she said evenly. "I hope you will
change your mind after you've been with us a while."
"I hardly expect that I shall, judging from what I've already seen of
it. That is, if Madison Hall furnishes a sample of the rest of the
college."
Turning petulantly to the maid who had come up to attend to her wants
she ordered sharply:
"Bring me my breakfast at once. I am in a hurry."
A dead silence ensued as the maid walked away. Signally vexed at the
stranger's disparaging remarks, Dorothy had no inclination to court a
fresh volley.
Jane and Adrienne were equally attacked by dumbness. They were devoting
themselves to breakfast as if in a hurry to be through with it.
"I didn't intend to speak to you ever again," the disgruntled freshman
suddenly addressed herself to Jane. "I suppose you think it's queer in
me to sit down at the same table with you after what I told you
yesterday. I was going to refuse, then I decided I had a perfect right
to sit here if I chose. If you don't like it you can sit somewhere
else."
"Thank you. I am quite satisfied with this table." Jane's reply quivered
with sarcasm. "I sat here at meals last year. I have no intention of
making a change."
"It is, of a truth, most sad, that we cannot oblige you," Adrienne cut
into the conversation, her elfish black eyes snapping. "It is not
necessary, however, that we should say more about it. We are here. We
shall continue to be here. It is sufficient."
She made a sweeping gesture as if to brush the offensive Miss Noble off
the face of the earth.
The latter simply stared at the angry little girl for a moment, too much
amazed to make ready reply. Adrienne's calm ultimatum rather staggered
her.
Too courteous to show open amusement of the situation, Dorothy resorted
to flight. With a hasty "Excuse me" she rose and left the table. Jane
and Adrienne instantly followed suit, leaving the quarrelsome freshman
alone in her glory.
Straight toward the living-room Dorothy headed, her friends at her
heels. Dropping down on the davenport she broke into subdued laughter.
"You naughty Imp," she gasped. "I know I oughtn't laugh, but you were so
funny. Wasn't she, Jane?"
"Yes." Jane was now smiling in sympathy with Dorothy's mirth. A moment
earlier she had been scowling fiercely.
"What's the answer, Jane?"
Dorothy's laughter had merged into sudden seriousness.
"Marian Seaton's cousin," returned Jane briefly. "I didn't intend to
mention it," she continued, "but under the circumstances I think you
ought to know the truth."
Briefly Jane acquainted Dorothy with the situation.
"The whole affair is contemptible," Dorothy's intonation indicated
strong disapproval of the cowardly attempt to deprive Jane of her room.
"It looks as though Marian were guilty," she continued speculatively.
"She's the only one at Wellington, I believe, who would do you a bad
turn."
"You forget Maizie Gilbert," shrugged Jane.
"Oh, Maizie, left to herself, would never be dangerous. She's too lazy
to be vengeful. She only follows Marian's lead."
"This Marian well knew that with Mrs. Weatherbee Jane could not agree,"
asserted Adrienne. "She had the opinion that when Jane arrived here Mrs.
Weatherbee would listen to nothing she might say. So she had the
mistaken opinion."
"Mrs. Weatherbee always means to be just," defended Dorothy. "She has
rather prim ideas about things, but she's a stickler for principle. I am
glad she's over her prejudice against you, Jane."
"So am I," nodded Jane. "About this whole affair, Dorothy, I don't
intend to worry any more. I'm going to be too busy trying to be a good
sophomore pioneer to trouble myself with either Marian Seaton or her
cousin. Nothing that she did last year to try to injure me succeeded.
As long as I plod straight ahead and keep right with myself I've nothing
to fear from her."