THE ONE REBEL
However much the natural independence of the freshmen balked at the
mandate promulgated by the seniors, baby-blue tam-o'-shanters grew more
numerous every hour on the Ardmore campus.
The sophomores were evidently filled with glee; the juniors and seniors
smiled significantly, but said nothing. The freshmen had been put in
their place at once, it was considered. But the attack upon them had
made the newcomers eager for an organization of their own.
"If we are going to be bossed this way--and it is disgraceful!--we must
be prepared to withstand imposition," Helen announced.
So they began busily settling the matter of the organization of the
class and the choosing of its officers. Before these matters were
arranged completely, however, there was an incident of note.
The freshmen, as a body, were invited to attend a sophomore "roar." It
was to be the first out-of-door "roar" of the year and occurred right
after classes and lectures one afternoon. The two lower classes scamped
their gymnasium work to make it a success.
Now, a "roar" at Ardmore was much nicer than it sounds. It was merely an
open-air singing festival, and this one was for the purpose of making
the freshmen familiar with the popular songs of the college.
Professor Leidenburg, the musical director, himself led the outdoor
concert. The sophomores stood in a compact body before the main entrance
to the college hall. Massed in the background, and in a half circle,
were the freshmen.
The weather had become cool and all the girls wore their
tam-o'-shanters. For the first time it was noticeable how pretty the
pale blue caps on the freshmen's heads looked. And the new girls
likewise noted that most of the tam-o'-shanters worn-by their sophomore
hostesses were pale yellow.
It was whispered then (and strange none of the freshmen had discovered
it before) that the class preceding theirs at Ardmore--the present
sophomores--had been forced to wear caps of a distinctive color, too.
These pale yellow ones were their old caps, left over from the previous
winter.
The open-air assemblages of the college were made more attractive by
this scheme of a particular class color in head-wear.
There was a blot in the assembly of the freshmen on this occasion. It
was not discovered in the beginning. Soon, however, there was much
whispering, and looking about and pointing.
"Do you see _that_?" gasped Jennie, who had been straining her neck and
hopping up and down on her toes to see what the other girls were looking
at.
"What _are_ you rubbering at, Heavy?" demanded Helen, inelegantly.
"Yes; what's all the disturbance?" asked Ruth.
"That girl!" ejaculated the fleshy one.
"What girl now? Any particular girl?"
"She's not very particular, I guess," returned Jennie, "or she wouldn't
do it."
"Jennie!" demanded Helen. "_Who_ do _what_?"
"That Frayne girl," explained her plump friend.
Rebecca Frayne stood well back in the lines of freshmen. It could not be
said that she thrust herself forward, or sought to gain the attention of
the crowd. Nevertheless, among the mass of pale blue tam-o'-shanters,
her parti-colored one was very prominent.
"Goodness!" gasped Ruth. "Doesn't she know better?"
"Do you suppose she is one of those stubborn girls who just 'won't be
driv'?" giggled Helen.
It was no laughing matter. The three days of grace written upon the
seniors' order regarding the caps had now passed. There seemed no good
reason for one member of the freshman class to refuse to obey the
command. Indeed, they had all tacitly agreed to do as they were
told--upon this single point, at least.
"There certainly are enough of them left in town so that she can buy
one," Jennie Stone said.
"Goodness!" snapped Helen. "If _my_ complexion can stand such a silly
color, _hers_ certainly can."
Before the out-of-doors concert was over, news of this rebellion on the
part of a single freshman had run through the crowd like a breath of
wind over ripe wheat. It almost broke up the "roar."
As the last verse of the last song was ended and the company began to
disperse, the freshmen themselves, and the sophomores as well, stared at
Rebecca Frayne in open wonder. She started for her room, which was in
Dare Hall on the same corridor as that of the three girls from
Briarwood, and Ruth and Helen and Jennie were right behind her.
"That certainly is an awful tam," groaned Jennie. "What do you suppose
makes her wear it, anyway? Let alone the trouble----"
She broke off. Miss Dexter, the first senior who had spoken to Ruth and
Helen coming over from the railway station on the auto-bus, stopped the
strange girl whose initials were the same as those of the girl of the
Red Mill.
"Will you tell me, please, why you are wearing that tam-o'-shanter?"
asked Miss Dexter.
Rebecca Frayne's head came up and a spot of vivid red appeared in either
of her sallow cheeks.
"Is that _your_ business?" she demanded, slowly.
"Do you know that I am a senior?" asked Miss Dexter, levelly.
"I don't care if you are two seniors," returned Rebecca Frayne, saucily.
Miss Dexter turned her back upon the freshman and walked promptly away.
The listeners were appalled. None of them cared to go forward and speak
to Rebecca Frayne.
"Cracky!" gasped Helen. "She's an awful spitfire."
"She's an awful chump!" groaned Jennie. "The seniors won't do a thing to
her!"
But nothing came at once of Rebecca's refusal to obey the seniors'
command regarding tam-o'-shanters. It was known, however, that the
executive committees of both the senior and junior classes met that next
night and supposedly took the matter up.
"Oh, no! They don't haze any more at Ardmore," said Jennie, shaking her
head. "But just wait!"