Rehearsals of "The Maid of Honor" had been begun before the holiday
vacation. Returned from their fortnight's recreation, it did not take
the illustrious cast long to pick up again in their parts. Muriel, much
to her amazement, had been chosen for Berenice, the heroine. Jerry
reveled in the part of Piccato, the jester. Leila was to play the male
lead of Florenzo, an ambassador from the Spanish Court. He falls
desperately in love with Berenice, who has been promised from childhood
to Lord Carstairs, an English nobleman, favored by Queen Elizabeth for
his harshly dominating personality. Ronny was cast for Narita, a court
dancer, who finally aids Berenice to escape from England with Florenzo,
her courtier husband, whom she has secretly married.
On account of her height and breadth of shoulder, Augusta Forbes had
been asked to take the part of Lord Carstairs. For several days after
Leila had requisitioned her services as an actor, she went about with
her head in the clouds. Her chums were no less pleased over the honor
that had fallen to "Gus." Neither had they been forgotten. The play
required a large number of extra persons for courtiers, ladies in
waiting, etc. The Bertram girls were among the first invited to grace
the stage in these minor rôles.
Luckily for the managers of the performance, the cedar chest in the
attic furnished enough really gorgeous court costumes to fit out the
principal male characters. This was due to the fact of the small
percentage of women in the Shakespearian dramas for which the costumes
had been originally fashioned. As neither Leila, Vera, Helen nor Martha
Merrick were overburdened with subjects, they took upon themselves the
getting together of the costumes for the feminine contingent.
On a Friday evening, the latter part of January, "The Maid of Honor" was
presented to an overflowing house. The gymnasium had, as usual, served
as theatre on account of its seating capacity. While the stage of Greek
Hall was much better as a stage, its auditorium would hold not more than
two hundred persons.
Actors, author and managers received enough applause during the play,
and enough adulation afterward, to turn their youthful heads. Honors
were so evenly divided among the principals it was hard to say who
deserved the most praise. Katherine, as author, received, perhaps, the
most admiring tribute of them all.
Acting upon Jerry's shrewd advice, two dollars had been set as the price
of admission with no reserved seats. She had argued that two dollars was
less than persons of their means usually paid for seats at a theatre. In
order not to leave out the off-the-campus girls, Ronny had counted them
up and bought tickets for them. These she commissioned Anna Towne to
distribute with the stern warning: "Don't one of your crowd dare stay
away from our play."
The net receipts of the play amounted to eleven hundred, forty dollars,
which the gratified managers banked with gleeful satisfaction.
Immediately they set to work on a new play, also by Kathie, entitled,
"The Wyshinge Welle," a drama of the Saxons in Ethelbert's time. This
was hailed with jubilation by Leila, who was especially fond of the life
of this period of history. The latter part of February would see its
presentation. If the promoters of drama at Hamilton found it did not
interfere too greatly with their studies, they planned to give two more
plays, a musical revue and a concert before the closing of the college
in June.
After the stir occasioned by "The Maid of Honor" had died out came a
restful lull. January vanished rapidly into the deep pocket of the year.
February arrived, sharp and blustering in its early days; warm and full
of frequent thaws toward its close. Sunshine and absence of snow made it
fine weather for automobiling, and the students of Hamilton were quick
to take advantage of it.
"A lot of girls are out with their cars today," Marjorie observed to
Jerry as she stood before the mirror of her dressing table adjusting her
hat. "I almost wish I had one. Still, I don't need it, and it would be
an extravagance for me. I wouldn't have a cent to give toward the
dormitory. That's why Robin and some of the other Travelers won't have
their cars here. The upkeep is so great. At home, garage rent is not
more than ten dollars a month. The girls here pay from fifteen to
twenty."
"That's because they are a college crowd. A garage proprietor figures
that a girl who can afford to keep a car at Hamilton can afford to pay a
good, stiff garage rent," declared Jerry shrewdly.
"Correct, as usual, Jeremiah." Marjorie turned from the mirror and began
drawing on her gloves.
"My head is level, Bean; extremely so. I suppose you won't be back
before nine o'clock."
"About that time. What shall I say to Miss Susanna for you?" It being
Saturday afternoon, Marjorie was on the point of setting out for
Hamilton Arms. She had received a note from Miss Susanna on the day
previous inviting her to spend the afternoon and take dinner at the
Arms.
"Tell her to invite me next time," modestly requested Jerry. "Remind her
that she hasn't entertained the crowd of us since before Christmas."
"I believe I _will_ tell her that, Jeremiah." Marjorie tipped her head
to one side and regarded her room-mate with apparent seriousness.
"If you do," Jerry looked startled, "I'll never forgive you, Marjorie
Dean."
"Then I won't tell her." Marjorie's sober face relaxed into a teasing
smile.
"Uh-h; I guess not," Jerry smiled with her. "I don't know what I shall
do this afternoon. Hunt up Helen and make her take me to ride, maybe.
Oh, I forgot. Leila is going to West Hamilton. She said she'd take me
with her. I'm saved from my own society."
"I wish you were going with me." Marjorie paused regretfully, hand on
the door knob.
"Don't worry over me, as Danny Seabrooke loves to say. Beat it." Jerry
waved a jesting hand at Marjorie. "Shoo! Begone!"
Laughing, Marjorie went. As she left the college gates behind her she
was thrilled with the joy of being alive on such a day. The clear skies,
brilliant sunshine and pleasant tang in the air inspired joy of living.
Once on the highway, several girls driving their cars called out to her,
asking her to ride. To each invitation she smilingly said "No." In the
first place she could not very well ask a student she might ride with to
drop her at Hamilton Arms. In the second place she infinitely preferred
to walk.
"It is such a fine day I thought you might like to take a walk with me
to see my head gardener," Miss Hamilton proposed shortly after
Marjorie's arrival. "He fell on the ice not long ago and broke his arm.
I am going to take him a basket of fruit and dainties. I am not fond of
making calls, but I always try to look after my people when they have
sickness or are in distress."
"I'd love to go with you," Marjorie heartily assured. "I'll carry the
basket in memory of one other day when I carried a basket for you."
"A very fortunate day it was for me." Miss Susanna smiled brightly upon
the pretty senior. Her affection for Marjorie was the brightest spot in
her secluded life.
"We can't avoid taking the highway for some distance," deplored the old
lady as they walked down the drive toward the entrance gates. "My
gardener lives not far from it, but almost half a mile from here. There
is a gardener's house on the estate, but he owns his home and prefers to
live there. This is just the kind of day for your Hamilton girls to be
filling the highway with their automobiles. It is taking one's life into
one's hands to venture along the road when they and their cars are out
in numbers."
There was distinct aggressiveness in the speech. Miss Hamilton cherished
a rooted antipathy for automobiles. She still kept in the Arms stable a
pair of thoroughbred coach horses for her own use. Nothing could tempt
her to ride in a motor car.
From Hamilton Arms to the adjoining estate the pike was broad, with wide
level footpaths on each side. They could travel this portion of it
without fear of accident from passing automobiles. A gradual curve in
the road at the beginning of the next estate and it narrowed, continuing
for two hundred yards or more between two slight elevations. It was the
only "tricky" stretch of the highway, as Leila had often remarked when
driving over it.
The top of these elevations formed footpaths only wide enough to permit
the passing of persons, single file. The February thaw had left them too
muddy to be used by pedestrians. It was a case of either take to the
pike itself or walk in the mud.
"A nice state of affairs!" Miss Susanna exclaimed, her eyes snapping.
"This is the way those good-for-nothing Cardens left their part of the
highway. These banks should be leveled even with the roadbed. Then they
would be fit to walk on. Catch the Cardens spending any money for the
good of the public! Compare the appearance of their estate with that of
Hamilton Arms! Quite a difference, isn't there?"
"I should say so." Interested in what Miss Susanna was saying, Marjorie
had relaxed for a moment her vigilant watch on the road. She now gazed
critically at the wide, but not specially ornamental grounds surrounding
the colonial residence which housed the hated Cardens when at home. She
saw clearly the inferiority of this estate as compared to the dignity of
ever-beautiful Hamilton Arms.
A sharp little shout of alarm, and her attention leaped to the road
again. Around the curve, coming toward them, a car had dashed at full
speed. Miss Susanna had cried out as she attempted to dodge it. So
abruptly had it appeared around the curve she had not seen it until it
was directly upon her. The driver lacked the skill to turn the car aside
quickly enough to avert the calamity. Marjorie added her cry of horror
to Miss Hamilton's. Before she could drag her elderly friend out of
danger, she saw her apparently flung to one side. The devastating motor
car gave a wicked lurch and whizzed on.
Bewildered by the suddenness of the accident, Marjorie stared
unbelievingly when she next beheld Miss Susanna not only move but raise
herself from the ground to a sitting posture. Sight of this apparent
miracle galvanized her into action. She sprang to Miss Hamilton calling
out:
"Oh, Miss Susanna, I'm so thankful you weren't run over. Tell me where
you are hurt. I saw the car fling you and----"
"The car didn't touch me. I made a leap and fell down just beyond it by
not more than an inch or two. My foot slipped in the soft mud. I am all
right. Help me up, child."
Marjorie had not attempted to raise the old lady to her feet before
ascertaining whether she were able to stand. She now lifted her up with
her grateful, young strength, exclaiming indignant sympathy over the
muddy condition of Miss Hamilton's long coat of fine black broadcloth.
"Can you walk, Miss Susanna, or do you feel too much shaken? Perhaps you
ought to stand still for a few minutes until you recover from the shock.
Plenty of taxicabs from the station or the taxi stand below the campus
pass here. I could hail one for you if you would ride in it to the
gardener's house."
"No, not for me," refused the old lady with sharp decision. "I shall
turn back and go home. I will send Jonas with the basket this evening."
"Take my arm. I can carry the basket with my other hand." As she talked
Marjorie had busied herself in brushing off what she could of the mud
from the old lady's coat. Miss Susanna's hat was still jammed over one
eye. Her small, sturdy hands were plastered with sticky mud. "Let me
straighten your hat. There! Now hold out your hands." Marjorie wiped
them with her own handkerchief.
"Such a catastrophe," scolded Miss Hamilton, "and at my age! And all on
account of a reckless girl driver! I think I had better take your arm,
Marjorie. Can you manage to support me and carry that basket, too?"
Assuring Miss Hamilton that she could, the two slowly retraced their
steps. A reaction soon setting in, Miss Susanna became silent for a
time. Marjorie said nothing, fearing conversation might prove an undue
strain upon the victim of the accident.
"The least that young savage could have done was to come back and see if
there were any casualties," Miss Hamilton burst forth abruptly as they
entered the gateway of the Arms. She had now sufficiently recovered from
the shock to feel belligerent toward the culprit. "A Hamilton girl, I
suppose. Did you recognize her, Marjorie?"
"Yes; I know who she is," Marjorie replied reluctantly.
"Very good. I shall report her to President Matthews," announced Miss
Susanna, wagging her head. "You are to tell me her name, or, better
still, you and I will go together to his office and report her."
Marjorie felt consternation rise within her. The last thing in the world
she wished to do was to go to President Matthews' office on such an
errand, even with Miss Susanna. Quick as a flash came the reminder of
the president's threat to ban automobiles at Hamilton, made at the time
of the accident to Katherine Langly.
"Miss Susanna," she began impulsively, hardly knowing how to speak her
mind without giving offense, "I know that girl who nearly ran you down
deserves to be reported. She has the reputation of being a poor driver,
and a very reckless one. Most of the Hamilton girls who drive cars are
careful. Two years ago, Miss Cairns, the one who bought the properties
from us, ran down Katherine. She was ill two weeks from the shock. She
just missed having her spine permanently injured. She did not report
Miss Cairns to President Matthews but----"
"And you think because Katherine was simpleton enough to allow a
murderous act like that to go unpunished that I ought to do likewise,"
supplied Miss Susanna in a whip-like tone of anger which Marjorie had
never before heard her use. "You are----"
"I beg your pardon, Miss Susanna, I did not mean----" Marjorie
re-commenced in a distressed voice.
"Listen to me." The irate old lady held up her hand by way of command.
"You are talking utter nonsense." The last of the Hamiltons was not
accustomed to being crossed. Shaken by her fall, she was now in a highly
querulous state, common to those over sixty. "Not report that young
heathen--ridiculous! This girl must be a friend of yours whom you are
trying to shield. Certainly I shall report her. I hold it important to
do so. You may know how important I consider reporting her when I
propose going to your president myself. I--who have not set foot on the
campus for years. I find I am not well enough to have you at the Arms to
dinner this evening. I will bid you good afternoon. Set the basket on
the steps."
They had reached the broad flight of stone steps leading to the veranda
of the Arms as the offended great-niece of Brooke Hamilton snapped out
these pithy statements.
"Good afternoon, Miss Susanna." The piteous light in Marjorie's eyes
changed to one of justly wounded pride. Very gently she set the basket
on the top step and turned away. Her friendship with the last of the
Hamiltons had terminated as abruptly as it had begun.