WHAT THE SENIORS THOUGHT OF THE PLAN
"I can't forgive myself for being so disagreeable," was Arline Thayer's
regretful cry. Grace had met Arline half an hour earlier than the time
appointed for the senior class meeting the following afternoon and the
two girls had hurried to the room in Overton Hall, where the meeting was
to be held, for the express purpose of having a confidential chat before
the others should arrive.
"Don't think of it again, Daffydowndilly." Grace regarded Arline with
affectionate eyes. She was glad almost to the point of tears that the
cloud between her and the dainty little girl had been lifted.
"Oh, but I must think of it this once, Grace," persisted Arline. "I
haven't told you yet how truly sorry I am for behaving so badly toward
you. But I was so angry with you for troubling yourself about that
horrid Kathleen West. But first let me ask: Did you see that New York
newspaper story? Father sent me a copy of the paper. I showed it to
Ruth, but didn't tell any one else. It is known here, though."
"Yes, I knew of it the day after it was published," answered Grace
soberly. "Mabel sent me a marked copy. I am sorry my name was used. It
was a surprise to me."
Arline's eyebrows lifted. "A surprise!" she exclaimed with fine sarcasm.
"I think I can understand just how pleased you felt over that surprise.
I am not going to allow a certain person to come between our friendship
again, but I can't help saying that if ever you speak to her again, you
will be doing yourself a great injustice."
"Would it surprise you to hear me say that I am inclined to endorse what
you have just said?" questioned Grace. "What I tried to do for her was
done largely to please Mabel Ashe. Mabel has released me from my
promise. I seldom take violent dislikes to persons I meet, but, to tell
the plain truth, I have never liked Miss West, although I have admired
her ability and perseverance. In fact, I have never met any one I
disliked so much," confessed Grace. "I don't know what has come over me,
but I simply can't endure the thought of her, let alone forgiving her."
"I don't blame you. I hope you will continue to take that stand. You
won't, though. If you knew, to-morrow, of something that would be to her
advantage to know, you wouldn't hesitate to tell her."
Grace looked rather confused. Arline's chance shot had gone home. She
had not forgiven Kathleen, yet only yesterday she had paved the way for
her to possible honor. "What did you do here on Thanksgiving?" she asked
abruptly. "Why didn't you go to New York?"
Arline laughed. "I am perfectly willing to change the subject and answer
both your questions. Father was in Chicago, so we thought we'd stay here
and see what we could do for some of the girls whose good times are
limited. We did all sorts of little stunts. Thanksgiving night we gave a
party at Morton House and invited every one we could think of, and the
next night Ruth and I took our checks, we each received an extra one for
Thanksgiving, and gave a moving picture party. We made the man who owns
the place reserve the seats, and we saw 'The Merchant of Venice.' It was
beautifully done, and every one who saw it was delighted. Then we
invited several girls to Morton House for Thanksgiving dinner, too."
"I wanted to ask you and Ruth to go to New York with us, but----"
"Don't say a word," interrupted Arline, with a penitent little gesture.
"It was my fault. I claim the privilege of changing the subject, too.
What is the object of this class meeting?"
Grace was about to explain, when a murmur of voices in the hall
announced that the seniors had begun to gather for the meeting. Within
ten minutes every seat in the room was occupied, and Arline Thayer, now
president of the senior class, called the meeting to order. "As there is
no particular business to be transacted," announced Arline, "what is the
pleasure of the class? Will the person or persons responsible for the
notice on the bulletin board please rise and enlighten the class as to
why we are here?"
"Madam President," Emma Dean rose from her seat and addressed the chair,
"I wrote the notice. It was the outcome of a session in which a number
of the seniors had been discussing ways and means of making 19-- famous
in the annals of Overton." Emma proceeded in her clever, humorous
fashion to lay before the class the project of a play to be written by a
member of one of the four classes and produced and enacted by the
seniors. "If we allow any girl in college who wishes to compete for the
honor pin we shall have a greater variety of plays from which to choose.
It will also be a good opportunity to discover any lights that might
otherwise be so securely hidden under bushels of modesty that no one
would ever see them.
"The rules for the contestants will be very simple. The play must be
original. It must consist of not less than three acts, and all
manuscripts must be in the hands of the committee appointed by the
president of the senior class on the Tuesday before the Easter vacation.
The play may be comedy, drama, or tragedy, but it must be
representative. The duties of the committee will be to receive the
plays. As soon as they have been submitted they are to be turned over to
three members of the Overton faculty, provided they are willing to act
in the capacity of critics. I should now like an opinion from the
class."
Emma sat down amid an energetic clapping of hands. To a member, the
class was in favor of the proposed contest. One after another the
members rose to voice their approval, and when the president called for
a rising vote every member was instantly on her feet.
"You understand that we shall require permission from the president of
the college before we can officially announce the contest," Arline
reminded the class. "I will appoint Miss Dean, Miss Harlowe and Miss
Wade to call upon the president and obtain his permission. Then the play
committee will see to the advertising of the contest."
Before the meeting closed, Anne Pierson, Miriam Nesbit, Ruth Denton and
Elfreda Briggs were appointed to serve on the play committee and the
date of the production of the play was set for the Friday of the fifth
week after the Easter vacation. It was also decided that Lecture Hall,
which boasted of a stage and several sets of scenery, and would hold a
goodly audience, should be used for the occasion.
Within the next three days Miss Duncan and Dr. Hepburn, instructors,
respectively, in English and Latin, and Dr. Darrow, professor of Oratory
and Dramatic Expression, had been interviewed and had consented to act
as judges. The moment these preliminaries had been attended to, Gertrude
Wells had begun an elaborate poster to hang above the bulletin board in
Overton Hall announcing the contest. At the bottom of the poster was
fastened a card on which the rules had been painstakingly lettered in
black and red. By the end of the week there was scarcely a girl in
Overton who had not stopped before the gayly colored poster to read the
news that was being discussed long and earnestly throughout the college.
Those who had acquired a certain amount of reputation in the matter of
themes boldly announced their intention of competing for the honor pin,
while there were others whose themes had never been praised, whose
ambition to show the judges what they really could do urged them on to
enter the lists.
Neither Grace, Miriam nor Anne intended to try for the prize. Ruth
Denton had confided to Arline that she had an idea for a play which she
meant to work out, and Emma Dean boldly proclaimed herself to be deep in
the throes of a comedy called "Life at Wayne Hall; or, the Expressman's
Surprise." Elfreda, too, had apparently been inspired, and for a week
went about chuckling to herself and making mysterious notes in a little
black note book she now carried constantly.
Grace could not help wondering now and then if Kathleen West would enter
the contest. Since the newspaper girl's return from New York she had
kept strictly to herself. She spoke to Patience only when absolutely
necessary and took not the slightest notice of Miriam, Anne or Elfreda.
Patience confided to Grace that Kathleen studied harder than ever, and
wrote for at least two hours every night, never forgetting to place her
papers carefully in her desk and to lock it securely before going out or
to bed. "I believe she is writing a play, but I don't know positively
and I wouldn't dream of asking her," had been Patience's comment.
As the long intervening days that lay between the students of Overton
and "going home for Christmas" dragged by, Grace found herself more
impatient to see her father and mother than ever before. "It is on
account of that old newspaper trouble," she assured herself. "Father and
Mother were so dear and forgiving over it that I can't wait to see
them." All her thoughts were now centered on going home.
"I never wanted to see Father and Mother so much in all my life as I do
this Christmas. Next week seems ages off. I am sure it is seven years
instead of seven days until vacation begins." She confided to Anne one
evening, as she sat on the floor beside her open trunk: "I'm going to
begin packing to-night and do a little each day. It will give me a
certain amount of satisfaction and make the time pass more quickly. I
wonder why Mother doesn't write? She hasn't sent me my check to go home
with yet. I can't go home until it comes, for I have spent every cent of
my allowance and my extra check, too, for Christmas presents."
"Don't worry over it," advised Anne. "Your father and mother are the
most infallible persons I know. You won't be left stranded in Overton
and have to walk ties to Oakdale."
"If I do, I shall take you with me. As a trouper you ought to be
proficient in that exercise," laughed Grace.
"As a successful exponent of the dramatic art," began Anne pompously,
"I----"
"Miss Pierson! Miss Pierson!" Mrs. Elwood's voice was heard in the hall
at the foot of the stairs.
Anne sprang to the door. "Here I am, Mrs. Elwood," she called, stepping
down the hall to the head of the stairs.
"Here's a telegram for you. Will you please come downstairs and sign for
it?"
Anne hurried down the stairs, her heart beating violently. She signed
the messenger boy's book, shoved the pencil into his hand and ran back
to Grace as fast as her feet would carry her.
"It's a telegram, Grace. It's for me. I'm afraid to open it," she cried,
dashing into the room. "Open it. I dare not. Oh, if anything has
happened to Mother or Mary!"
Grace took the envelope Anne held out to her. Her own hands were
trembling with apprehension, yet she managed to tear open the envelope
and draw out the fateful message. There was the crackling sound of
unfolding paper, then Grace cried out in joyful tones: "Anne, you never
can guess! It is too good to be true!"
Anne sprang to her feet, and darting to where Grace stood, the open
telegram in her hands, peered over her shoulder. A moment later she and
Grace joined hands and performed a joyful dance about the room.
"What on earth is the cause of all this jubilation?" queried Miriam's
voice from the doorway. "I knocked, but no one paid any attention to me.
It sounded from the outside as though you might be engaged in deadly
conflict, so I decided to interfere."
The dance ceased and Grace thrust the telegram, which she still held,
into Miram's hands. "Read it," she commanded.
"Will arrive in Overton 5:30. Meet me. With love. Rose Gray."
And, reinforced by Miriam, the dance was begun again with renewed vigor.