PATIENCE PROMISES TO STAND BY
For the next three days Patience Eliot passed successfully for a
freshman. Then came the sudden dismaying rumor that she was registered
in the sophomore theme class. A little later it was announced positively
that she had passed up freshman French. The truth suddenly burst upon
certain members of the sophomore class who had selected Miss Eliot as a
splendid subject for sophomore grinds, when, on the occasion of their
first class meeting, she walked quietly into the class room where it was
to be held, and took her place with a cheerful, matter-of-course air
that was very disturbing to various abashed sophomores who had planned
mischief.
Far from being angry, the astonished sophomores treated the New England
girl's mild deception as a joke, and by it she sprang into instant
popularity with her class. There were a few disgruntled students who
criticized her, but these were so far in the minority that they counted
for little. Kathleen West was among this minority. On the evening when
the girl from New England had been shown into the room at the end of the
hall, Kathleen had conceived a strong dislike for this calm-faced,
independent young woman, whose quiet self-assurance nettled her, and
mentally decided that she belonged to the preaching, narrow-minded class
of girls who made life a burden for those who did not live up to a
certain impossible standard. Patience Eliot had been even less favorably
impressed with the newspaper girl. "She has a frightful temper," had
been her mental observation, "and looks the reverse of agreeable." Aside
from a brief exchange of conversation, silence had reigned in the room,
and remembering the happy faces of the girls she had seen at the
breakfast table that morning, Patience had felt not wholly pleased with
her new quarters and not a little lonely.
The incident of the broken china had been fortunate in that it had
brought about a friendly, informal meeting between Grace and herself.
After that everything had glided smoothly along. Patience and Grace
received an invitation to take dinner with Miss Sheldon the following
Sunday, and this occasion served to strengthen the New England girl's
favorable impression of Grace to such an extent that by the end of the
week the knot of friendship between them had been firmly tied.
From the moment of Kathleen West's discovery that her roommate was fast
becoming friendly with the very girls she affected to despise, she
adopted an aggressive manner toward the New England girl which the
latter was quick to perceive and tactfully ignore. Patience had an
unusually keen insight into character, and she had made up her mind not
to get beyond the point of exchanging common civilities with the
disgruntled young woman who seemed determined to go through college with
her eyes tightly closed to her own interests.
That the newspaper girl possessed a fondness for study and never
neglected her lessons was a point in her favor, in Patience's eyes. As
the daughter of a well-known man of letters she had inherited her
father's love of study and an appreciation of that same love in others.
She frequently smiled at the clever, caustic remarks the strange, moody
girl was wont to make about everything and everybody, and occasionally
she surprised even Kathleen herself by her ready appreciation of the
themes the latter wrote.
It was several weeks before the two young women even became accustomed
to each other. During that time Kathleen learned that Patience was proof
against her aggressiveness, and not half so narrow-minded as she had
thought; while Patience discovered, to her dismay, that in spite of
Kathleen's undoubted wit and brilliancy, she disliked her rather more,
if anything, than on first acquaintance.
"I feel quite conscience-stricken over it," she confided to Grace one
afternoon as they started down College Street for a short walk before
dinner. "I wouldn't tell any one else, Grace, but I simply can't like
Miss West. I've tried, and I can't. I am equally sure she doesn't like
me. Imagine us sharing the intimacy of one room, and at the same time
disliking each other cordially. I suppose there isn't the slightest
chance for me to make a change this year. Besides, I don't wish to leave
Wayne Hall."
"Oh, you mustn't think of leaving Wayne Hall!" exclaimed Grace in
dismay. "I am so sorry about Miss West. She is a peculiar girl. None of
the girls here pretend to understand her. When first she came here as a
freshman she was friendly enough with us. Then something occurred for
which we were not to blame, or rather, we did not know that Miss West
considered us at fault," corrected Grace conscientiously. "At any rate,
she suddenly began to avoid us. For a long time we didn't know the
reason." Grace paused for an instant. "By the time we found out, it was
too late. Other things had happened. I can't really tell you much about
that part of it," she added, reddening, "but in fairness to myself and
my friends I will say that we were not to blame for what followed.
There, that isn't very definite, is it? But I know you won't ask any
questions."
"Not one," returned Patience gravely. "I knew, of course, that relations
between you two were strained, but hadn't the slightest idea of the
cause of it all. I believe I understand something of the situation now."
They tramped along in silence for a time. Grace was thinking almost
resentfully that even in her senior year she seemed unable to free
herself from a sense of responsibility toward Kathleen West. Her great
affection for Mabel Ashe had undoubtedly been at the bottom of it, but,
deep in her heart, Grace knew that had there been no Mabel to pave the
way for Kathleen, she would have done whatever lay in her power to help
this strange girl, who had no conception of, and was not likely ever to
imbibe, that intangible and yet wholly necessary principle, college
spirit. She wondered a little sadly why Mabel Ashe had not written her.
Could it be possible that Mabel had heard unkind, untruthful tales of
her from the newspaper girl? Grace impatiently accused herself of being
suspicious and tried to shake off the impression.
While she was pursuing this uncomfortable train of thought, Patience
Eliot was covertly watching her companion's face. The expression she saw
there evidently did not please her, and with a slightly determined set
of her lips and a gleam of sudden purpose in her frank eyes, she
promised herself that, beginning that very day, she would try to study
Kathleen from an entirely different standpoint than heretofore. Laying
her hand on Grace's shoulder she said warmly: "Don't worry, Grace. I
will take back what I said about leaving Wayne Hall. I'm going to stay
there until the last day of my sophomore year, at least. And as long as
I stay I shall no doubt go on rooming with Miss West. There, does that
make you feel better?"
"It is positively noble in you to say that, Patience," responded Grace
gratefully. "I know you are bound to be put to endless personal
inconvenience on account of it. I feel peculiarly responsible for Miss
West, because I promised Mabel Ashe, who knows her, that I would help
her to like college. I have told you all about Mabel before. Next to
Anne and Miriam, Mabel was my best friend here at Overton. I can't begin
to tell you how I missed her last year. When Miss West first came to
Overton I thought it would be perfectly splendid to have a real
newspaper reporter with us, and because she was Mabel's friend I felt
doubly sure of liking her.
"Mabel had sent me a telegram asking me to go to the station to meet
her. Anne and I didn't allow any grass to grow under our feet. We rushed
off post haste to the station. Confidentially, we were dreadfully
disappointed in her. She was not in the least the sort of girl that I
had expected to meet. I suppose I entertained an almost exaggerated idea
of what a newspaper woman should be. I've always enjoyed reading stories
about clever women who covered important assignments and made good on
newspapers. You know the kind of stories I mean."
Patience nodded understandingly. "Real people are never like people in
books," she commented. "Usually the real folks do far more startling
things than the book people ever thought of doing."
"I know it," agreed Grace, with a rueful smile. "Suppose I say what you
just said happens to apply to this case, and leave the rest to your
imagination."
"Very neatly put," was Patience's grim answer. "My imagination is quite
equal to the strain. As her roommate, I can draw upon fact rather than
imagination."
"Yet I have a curious feeling that you are going to succeed where we
have failed. You are so strong and capable and----" Grace's earnest eyes
looked their confidence in Patience, as she groped for the word that
would describe her friend. "I can't think of the right word now, but you
understand me. What I mean is that once you had made up your mind to do
something, you'd do it or die."
"'Tis the blood of my Revolutionary ancestors that spurs me on to deeds
of might," declaimed Patience. "Don't give up the ship--girl, I mean,"
she finished humorously.
"That looks like Miss West just ahead of us!" exclaimed Grace. "She came
from that house at the end of the row. A crowd of freshmen live there
and one of them seems to be a particular friend of hers."
"You mean Miss Rawle?" replied Patience. "I have named her my daily
affliction. She haunts Wayne Hall with a persistency worthy of a better
cause. She adores Miss West, and tells me all about it while she is
waiting for Kathleen, who, I suspect, runs away from her more than once.
She refers to little Miss Rawle as 'my crush,' but her tone is
unpleasantly sarcastic. Miss Rawle honestly admires Miss West and seems
to have a great deal of faith in her ability to write. Sometimes
Kathleen is the soul of hospitality. At other times she barely responds
to Miss Rawle's timid remarks. When she behaves in that fashion I feel
tempted to give her a good shaking. More than once I have seen Miss
Rawle say good night when she looked ready to cry."
"I wish I knew how to get hold of Kathleen," said Grace, looking
troubled. "It is simply a case of good material going to waste, isn't
it?"
Patience shrugged her square shoulders. "I had a glimmer of hope that,
once she and I became accustomed to each other, we might at least dwell
together in peace. So far peace has been maintained by great effort on
my part. How much longer it will endure is a question."
At the door of Wayne Hall Grace paused irresolutely. "Oh, dear!" she
exclaimed, "I forgot to stop at the stationer's, and I need a lot of
little things, too. I must go back and get them. Will you come with me,
Patience?"
Patience shook her head. "I want to read for a few minutes before
dinner. It is almost the only time I have to read for pleasure. You
won't care if I go on upstairs, will you, Grace?"
"Of course not. I wish I didn't have to go. I'll see you at dinner."
Grace hurried down the walk on her errand, while Patience went on into
the house and to her room.