Isabel Hunt and Virginia Hope, juniors, were together in a single room
on Lakeview Corridor. It was the same room which Isabel had occupied
with Avalon Moore when they first came to Greycliff. While the
scholarship which Virginia had won the year before was a great help to
her financially, she still felt that she must be as economical as
possible, and single rooms cost less than suites, even when the expense
of a suite was divided among four. Isabel said that she, too, was well
suited by making careful plans, for Jim and her father were saving
against the time when all the boys would be in the army and business
might suffer. Then, Avalon Moore and Olivia Holmes, who had shared the
suite with them, were not back this year. Avalon’s father was an officer
in the regular army, and Avalon was with her mother and the other
children, while her father was in France. Olivia’s people had moved from
the South to California, where her sister lived.
“Honestly, Virgie,” said Isabel one evening, “I believe it is easier to
study with just you and me here. It’s such a temptation to talk when
there are more of us.”
Virginia looked up from her book with an amused glance.
“I know what you are thinking,” continued Isabel with a laugh, “but I
only break out by spells. I wonder what Olivia and Avalon are doing
tonight.”
“Getting lessons too, I suspect.”
“Yes, Olivia wrote that she likes her school out there pretty well, but
misses all of us girls. There is her letter, Virgie. I forgot to tell
you to read it. She says that the girls are crazy about her butterfly
pin and want to start a Psyche Club there. And she wants us to write and
tell her every single thing about Greycliff, who is back and who isn’t,
and where the Grant Academy boys are, if we know, and everything. I
wonder what she has done with her fur coat!”
Both girls laughed as they recalled how eager Olivia had been for the
new experiences of the North, and how she had run to her closet for the
coat as soon as the fire alarm rang, not long after her arrival.
“She got to be one of the best skaters here, and _adored_ skiing!”
Isabel shook her head in regret for the lost opportunities of the absent
Olivia.
“Oh, well,” said Virginia, “when we’re freezing our noses and toeses
this winter, she’ll be picking roses and oranges.”
“That is pretty nearly a poem, Virgie. Can’t you fix it up a little?
Noses, toeses and roses are so poetic!”
“No,” said Virgie, “I’m capable of rhyme, but not of meter. Lilian can
make up poetry enough for our club. By the way, I’m in favor of Olivia’s
starting a Psyche Club out there if they want to. Faith, love, effort,
and ‘on to Olympus,’ or immortality, aren’t bad ideals. It certainly
impressed me when I first came here, and you all were so perfectly
lovely to me. Do you know, it didn’t seem a bit hard to go back to the
ranch this summer. I wanted so to see Father that it took away my dread,
and when I got there I found the world such a big place to me, after the
school life, that it didn’t make so much difference about what happened
for a little while on the ranch. Then my stepmother had been sick and
worried about Father—she was _glad_ to see me! So I took hold to help,
and it was easier, and I had learned to appreciate the big country
around us, and instead of its being an awful summer it was one of the
best I ever had! I kept thinking, too, that I could probably have at
least one more year of education here, and perhaps earn the rest
myself.”
“Yes, isn’t it queer how you find out you can do things? Why, if anybody
had told me once that I would _enjoy_ debating, I would have thought
them, him or her, crazy!”
“It’s a good thing I don’t have to make candy this year to help out the
expenses. Isn’t it queer about the sugar?”
“Everything is queer this year, with the boys gone and going. It is a
good thing that we have so much to do.”
“I wonder why Myrtle Wiseman isn’t back this year.”
“I’m sure I don’t know. Juliet said that it was so much easier to have
the class elections this year without the schemes.”
“Perhaps we could get Dorothy Appleton and Jane Mills in the Psyche
Club, then.”
“I think it is too late, at least the girls think so, and they are in
the other society, you know. Lilian said that we had all formed
different groups. But they are lovely girls and very friendly. When they
went into the Emerson Literary Society last year, they were with a
different crowd, and now, of course, they are ‘rushing’ against our
girls, that is, I suppose we can call them our girls!”
“Do you think they will ask us to join the Whittiers?”
“Do I _think_ so?—with Cathalina president, and Hilary secretary, and
Lilian on the program committee? Yes, Miss Hope, I think that it is
quite likely. One of the girls in the debating club asked me the other
day if it was of any use for the Emerson Society to invite us. She said,
‘With all those girls in your Psyche Club that are in the Whittier
Society, I suppose you wouldn’t think of being an “Emerson,” but you and
Virgie are such fine debaters that we’d get you in if we could.’ Now
wasn’t that nice?”
“Who was it?”
“Lucile Houston, and Jane Mills was with her. I just said something
about appreciating their good opinion. I was so overcome by it, you see,
that I neglected altogether to state whether or not we were interested
in an invitation from the Emersons.”
“Doesn’t it seem funny not to be in society tonight?”
“Yes. I felt as if I ought to rush down to the Shakespearean Society and
call the meeting to order tonight. But I am glad of the rest. And I feel
so grown up to be in the first real collegiate class that I scarcely
know myself. I mean to get ahead on work these few weeks before we get
into society work, and say, I can knit like everything while I commit my
debate speeches or the other things we have to learn for the oratory
class. As soon as I finish a scarf or two, I’m going to begin on
sweaters. It is so crazy that I never learned before, with Aunt Helen
right there to teach me. But I learned how to knit socks this summer.”
The corridors were full of girls in the pretty dresses which they had
worn to dinner, hurrying toward the different society halls. Soft bells
were ringing here and there. These were important meetings, for new
members were to be elected, matters connected with the sending out of
invitations to be decided, besides the usual pressing affairs of girls’
literary societies. There were only two societies in the two collegiate
classes, hence the rivalry. One or two others had ingloriously died soon
after their birth. Only the devoted Whittiers and Emersons had survived.
Two pink spots burned on the cheeks of Cathalina Van Buskirk, for she
was to take the “oath of office” tonight, sit in the famous chair on the
little platform and wield the gavel of ebony, presented by a famous
graduate who had made a name for herself. The other new officers were
also to be initiated, and then the important matters of business were to
be conducted. “Hilary, wink at me if I do anything wrong, and then I
will find it necessary to consult the secretary,” said Cathalina gayly,
as they entered the door.
“You will get along as well as I did when I was president of the
Shakespearean Society. Didn’t we read Robert’s Rules of Order together?
I shall have to learn the duties of a secretary. It seems funny, but
with all the church societies I have been in I’ve never been a
secretary, and in this society, recording and corresponding secretaries
are one. They usually wanted me to be the president, or treasurer. I
suppose they thought they could trust the preacher’s daughter!”
“You will have the old books to go by. I imagine that we can remember
what the seniors did last year after we get started in.”
“Hurry up, Lilian,” said Hilary, turning back, “time to begin.”
“Don’t you love this hall?” asked Lilian of both girls. “It was fun
working for the Shakespearean Society and getting our new furniture and
all, but I believe this seems more artistic because it is older. The
tone of the piano is not as good, though. We must have a new one, don’t
you think so, Hilary?”
“This hall is a better, larger room with more windows,” said Cathalina.
“It was possible in the first place to make a prettier hall of it, and,
yes, the furniture is more handsome than we thought we could afford when
we started the academy society. The older society really ought to be the
more dignified.”
“We didn’t think so when we were in the academy!”
“No, indeed. How we do change!”
No embarrassment could ever make Cathalina awkward. The girls were
always sure to be proud of Cathalina’s manner and language either in
public or private. Isabel was as devoted to Cathalina as ever and felt
an added gratitude since Cathalina had saved her, as she said, “from a
watery grave” the year before. Cathalina herself was pleased that the
girls had chosen her their president, and had made detailed preparations
having in her hand a neat little outline of the affairs to be put
through tonight. There was to be no regular program until the new
members were brought in at the next meeting, but if the business did not
take up the whole time, Evelyn Calvert had promised to give a “reading”
in the dialect for which she was famous in the school, and Eloise was to
sing. Among girls of so many gifts, the program committee did not have a
very difficult task. The only trouble was to make sure that the girls
prepared for their duties, for it was easy to be lazy about society
affairs when there were so many pressing school duties all the time.
Pretty and dainty Cathalina looked when, after the ceremony with which
the officers were initiated, she sat in state in the big chair. “The
Secretary will now call the roll,” said she, whereupon Hilary called the
names of the members from what she now called the “Sibylline Books.” The
treasurer was called upon for a report of the money left over in the
treasury from last year, and Pauline Tracy reported a comfortable little
sum. A report was called from the chairman of the program committee,
Lilian responding.
“Madam President,” said Lilian, “and members of the Whittier Society,
nothing has been done yet except the arrangements for the first program
at the initiation of the new members. You will remember that it was
decided last year to complete a program for one-third of the year, then
to pass on the programs, changed as they sometimes have to be when some
one fails to serve, to the next program committee, with the list of
those members who have not yet been on duty. I would like to remind the
society, that every member is supposed to be on duty several times
through the year and that the duties will be varied. For instance, if
the musical members should only have to furnish music, they would miss
the training in speaking before the society, or debating.”
“Madam President,” said Juliet, rising.
“Miss Howe,” responded the president.
“I should like to ask why we have the program divided into three
parts,—like ‘all Gaul’.” A titter ran around the room.
Lilian rose again and was recognized by the chair.
“Madam President,—there used to be three terms, and three sets of
officers elected, of course. Now with the two semesters, the society has
several times considered changing its schedule, but has concluded that
it is better to give the opportunity to have the three elections and
more girls occupying the responsible positions during the year.”
“Is there any unfinished business?” inquired the president. “If not, a
motion to present the names of the prospective members is in order.”
This was the time for careful management on the part of the president.
Nothing unkind should be said that could be reported to girls under
consideration.
“Madam President,” said Helen Paget, “I so move, that we proceed at once
to the election of new members.”
“I second the motion,” crisply said Diane of the distinct enunciation.
This motion duly passed, Eloise Winthrop rose to make a few remarks.
“Madam President,” said she, “may we have some discussion of the names
proposed last week? I remember how we all agreed that nothing unpleasant
should be said, but it seems to me that if there is any real objection
to anybody, we ought to know it, and perhaps leave their names until the
next election. There are a few girls, too, that I do not know very well,
some new ones, and I should like to hear reasons why they should be
invited.”
“Chiefly because the Emersons want them,” quickly said one girl, and
without addressing the president. The girls laughed and Cathalina tapped
for order.
“The names are posted at the sides of the room,” said the president,
“but the secretary will read the names proposed last week, and if there
are other names that you have thought of since, they may be proposed
then. Will the secretary also give some of the reasons why we invite
girls to the society?”
As Hilary rose, to read the list and comply with Cathalina’s request,
she hesitated a little, smiled, and put down her papers on the little
carved table before her. “I suppose the first real reason, if we are
honest,” said she, “is that we want our best friends with us in our
society, just as we like to be in the same school and the same classes.
Then we want to get girls into the society that will do it honor, girls
that will try to help and girls that are gifted or have some qualities
that make them desirable. A girl may not have any great gift, but be so
utterly lovable and perhaps helpful to everybody that we couldn’t get
along without her. And then we want girls that need the society
work,—indeed we all need it. I remember a girl that was so timid she was
afraid to do anything in public, but she was enthusiastic for the
society she was in, helped in all the practical ways, finally tried to
take part in the programs, and got all over being so scared. We put her
on for reading little things at first, or singing in a quartet, or doing
other things with several girls, until she found that she was valuable
in those places and liked it. You never can tell. I’m in favor of taking
in as many nice girls as we can, up to the number we decided upon.”
Hilary then read the list and with the help of several other girls
passed the ballots, long ones on ruled paper.
“Now does any one want to speak for her candidate?” asked Cathalina.
Several girls did. Isabel and Virginia were heralded as fine debaters
and willing to do anything for the society they were in. The new girls
were duly considered, as musical, or literary, or valuable additions in
one respect or another. Some of the girls had been dreading to do what
they ought to do in reference to one name, but when it was
enthusiastically pushed by one or two of the girls, Eloise rose, her
cheeks flushed and her dark eyes glowing.
“Madam President, I do hate to say what I feel that I ought to say, and
I hope you all know that I haven’t a thing against this girl personally.
She is pretty and attractive and a good student, but they tell me that
she is a regular trouble-maker and always stirs up things wherever she
is. I hope that it isn’t so, but she has had a change of room-mates
already, and I have noticed myself that she is not on speaking terms
with one or two others.”
“Miss Howe,” said Cathalina, recognizing Juliet. “I am sorry to confirm
what Eloise says. You know that the Alpha Zetas, which really does not
exist, because we are not allowed to have sororities, or any secret
societies,”—smiles went round the room at this remark, and one or two of
the girls put on a look of supreme ignorance.
“—began to rush her vigorously, and all of a sudden they stopped. I
think that she is just a spoiled girl who may find out later that having
her own way at other girls’ expense is not the way to get along. I would
suggest that we wait a while about electing her.”
“Madam President,” said one of the girls who had recommended this new
girl, a recent addition to the junior collegiate class, from some high
school. “I haven’t seen a thing disagreeable in Alice, and it’s just
going to be a tragedy! She is counting on it so!” The eyes of Alice’s
defender were full of tears as she sat down.
Cathalina looked sympathetic and asked if there were any one else who
would speak in favor of Alice or any other candidate, but the society
seemed to be through with discussion and the election proceeded. Alas
for the occasional heartaches, but a girls’ school is a fine place in
which to learn to live with other people.