ST. WODE’S COLLEGE.
There were several women’s colleges at Wingfield, but the largest and
the best known, and the most important, was St. Wode’s. It stood in its
own spacious grounds, and consisted of four large buildings, which were
called respectively the North, the South, the East, and the West Halls.
There was also an extensive library standing a little back from the
halls of residence, a great gymnasium, and another building devoted
entirely to class and lecture rooms. Endless money had been spent upon
St. Wode’s College, which now ranked as one of the largest and most
important colleges for women in the whole of England. It numbered from
three to four hundred students: but the place was so popular, the system
on which everything was worked was so admirable, that girls who wished
to go to St. Wode’s, had as a rule to put down their names a couple of
years in advance.
It so happened, however, that there was a vacancy for two sisters at
West Hall, and owing to the breaking-down of a highly nervous student
who had worked too hard for classical honors, there was also a vacancy
in the North Hall.
North Hall was the house of residence where Belle Acheson carried on her
vagaries, and pleased herself with the idea that she was one of the
cleverest and most distinguished girls in college. She owned to a qualm
of disgust, however, when she learned that Letitia was to be under the
same roof as herself, having a thorough scorn for that young lady; but,
as she was allowed no choice in the matter, she felt that there was
nothing for it but to submit to the inevitable.
Mr. Parker had himself visited St. Wode’s College, had seen the
principal, Miss Lauderdale, and had pleaded the cause of Leslie Gilroy
with such passion and effect that special arrangements had been made in
her favor, and she was admitted to the same hall as Marjorie and Eileen.
For the first term she must share a large room with another girl; but
that was a trifling matter to Leslie, who, now that things were
thoroughly arranged, wished to start on her new career without a
moment’s delay. As she had already passed the London Matriculation,
there was no difficulty about her admission as soon as room could be
found for her. This being arranged, she was able to go to St. Wode’s at
the beginning of Trinity term. It so happened, therefore, that Letitia,
Eileen, Marjorie, and Leslie Gilroy all found themselves on a certain
afternoon in the same cab, driving to St. Wode’s from the railway
station, a mile and a half distant. The girls’ luggage was to follow
them; and as there happened to be a place in the cab for a fourth, and
Leslie was standing, looking just a little forlorn, on the platform,
Marjorie went up to her and suggested that they should all go together.
“For I know you are a St. Wode’s girl,” she said.
“How could you possibly guess that?” replied Leslie, looking with
admiration at Marjorie whose plain dress could never take away from the
charm of her handsome face.
“There was really no mystery about it.” said Marjorie, after a pause. “I
am not a magician; but I happened to see the name of St. Wode’s on that
basket-trunk a minute or two ago. Will you come with us?”
“I shall be only too delighted,” was the reply. “I was feeling quite
lost and strange. It would be nice to go to college in company. Is this
your first term?” she added, as she seated herself in the cab.
“Yes, yes; we are all freshers,” replied Lettie. “We shall all have a
most unenviable position, that I can foretell. There is a certain Miss
Acheson, who resides in North Hall, who has told us of some of the
discomforts, and, for my part, if I had not promised——”
“Oh, hush, please, Lettie; don’t say any more,” said Eileen. “You need
not begin by frightening Miss Gilroy. You look, Miss Gilroy, as if you
intended to have a good time.”
Leslie did not reply, except with her eyes, which were smiling. She was
looking her best, dressed neatly and suitably, with her white sailor hat
making an effective contrast to the meshes of her bright golden hair.
“Well, I do wonder how everything will turn out,” said Eileen. “By the
way, Miss Gilroy, you did not tell us which Hall you were going to?”
“I believe I am to share a room with another student at North Hall,” she
answered. Then she continued, the smiles which she could not suppress
now visiting her eyes, “Is not the whole scheme delightful? I do wonder
what the other students will be like.”
“And what the tutors will be like,” continued Marjorie eagerly. “There
are two resident tutors in each house, and also a vice-principal. Miss
Lauderdale is, of course, the principal over the entire college. I
expect I shall be somewhat afraid of her.”
“I don’t intend to be afraid of anyone,” said Eileen. “When one makes up
one’s mind to lead a really useful life, surely small matters, such as
little nervousnesses, ought not to count.”
Leslie gazed hard at Eileen, as if she would read her through.
Marjorie bent suddenly forward and laid her hand on Leslie’s knee.
“Will you tell me something?” she asked earnestly. “Are you coming to
St. Wode’s to be a useful member of society, or a learned, or an
ornamental one?”
“I have not thought of it in that light,” said Leslie. “I want to go in
for learning, of course. As to being ornamental, I have no time to think
about that; and useful—well, I hope that learned and useful will, in my
case, go together. I have a great deal to do during the three years
which are before me—a delightful three years I have no doubt they will
prove. What special subjects do you mean to take up, Miss——”
“Chetwynd is my name,” said Eileen; “but I hope you won’t call me it. I
am sure we shall be friends, more particularly as we are to start our
new life in the same hall. Oh, I shall have much to tell you by and by.
Lettie, why is that frown between your brows?”
“I did not know that I was frowning,” answered Letitia, “I was only
thinking of the ornamental part of life, and how I could carry it out
most effectively.”
Letitia was dressed with special care, not unsuitably, for she had too
good taste for that; but so daintily, so exquisitely, with such a
careful eye to the smallest details that Marjorie and Eileen looked
rough and gauche beside her. Their serge skirts had been made by a
work-girl, as nothing would induce them to waste money on a dressmaker.
The work-girl had been discovered by Eileen in Fox Buildings. She had a
lame knee and a sick brother, and Eileen seized upon her at once as a
suitable person for the job, as she expressed it. Finally, she was given
most of the girls’ outfits to undertake.
She worked neatly, but had not the slightest idea of fitting. With
numberless blouses, however, and a couple of serge skirts, and sailor
hats, though cheap, at least looking clean, the girls passed muster, and
were totally indifferent to their own appearance.
“When once we have plunged into our new work we shall be as happy as the
day is long,” said Eileen. “I wonder if Belle arrived yesterday or
to-day?”
“I sincerely trust she won’t come till to-morrow,” said Letitia, with a
shudder. “I do not know for what sin I am doomed to reside under the
same roof with that terrible girl.”
“A terrible girl? Who can she be?” asked Leslie.
“You will know for yourself before you have been many days at St.
Wode’s,” was Lettie’s enigmatical reply. “Oh, and here we are, turning
in at the gates! My heart does go pit-a-pat.”
Leslie’s face also became suffused with pink as the cabman drew up at
the large wooden gates, which were presently opened by a neatly dressed
young woman who lived at the lodge just within.
The grounds were three-quarters of a mile in length, and the four halls,
built round a quadrangle, stood in the middle. There was a wide and
smoothly kept grass lawn in front of the halls, and a gravel sweep going
right round them. The cab presently delivered up its four occupants, and
Eileen, Marjorie, and Leslie found themselves in a small waiting room
inside West Hall, where they were to remain until the housekeeper could
arrive to take them to their several rooms. They had not to wait long. A
cheery young woman of about seven-and-twenty presently made her
appearance, asked them their names, told them that their trunks would be
brought to their rooms as soon as ever they arrived, and then requested
them to follow her.
She tripped up some wide stone stairs, destitute of carpets, and then
down a corridor, slippery with parquetry work. The next moment she had
flung open a door, and revealed a good-sized room, which was occupied by
another girl at the farther end, who wore a shock of red hair rather
untidily put up in a loose knot at the back of her head.
“Miss Colchester, I see you have arrived,” said Miss Payne the
housekeeper. “This is your room-fellow; may I introduce you to Miss
Leslie Gilroy?”
“Pray come in, Miss Gilroy; you are heartily welcome,” said Miss
Colchester, jumping up, coming forward, and gazing hard at Leslie. She
then extended an awkward hand.
“I am glad to see you,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind the room being
in disorder. I have only just begun to unpack, and everything is
helter-skelter. I was never tidy—no, never! I begin to think I like
things helter-skelter.”
“Oh, I don’t mind, of course!” answered Leslie; but her heart sank. In
her mother’s small house the motto impressed upon each child was the
old-fashioned one: “A place for everything, and everything in its
place.”
“I suppose I shall have one side of the room to myself?” she continued.
Marjorie and Eileen had been left on the landing. They overheard
Leslie’s last somewhat despairing words, glanced at one another, and
smiled. They were then conducted to their rooms at the farther end of
the corridor.
“This is your room, Miss Eileen,” said Miss Payne. “Miss Marjorie has an
exact counterpart at the other side of the corridor. Behind this screen
you will keep your washhand-stand. This sofa forms your bed at night.
This chest of drawers is for your linen and the bodice of your dresses.
Behind this curtain you will hang your skirts. Here is your
writing-table. It remains with yourself to make your room pretty and
neat, or the reverse. You may buy any ornaments in the way of pictures,
or anything else you fancy. When you touch this handle you turn on the
electric light. Would you care for a fire? Here are coal and wood for
the purpose, and I will send in a servant to light it at once, if you
wish.”
“No, thank you; it is quite a warm evening,” replied Eileen. “Is
Marjorie’s room just the same?”
“Precisely; but I think you have the prettier view.”
“Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed Eileen. “Do look, Marjorie; there is that
great park in the distance, and the river down there. Oh, please——” She
turned to speak to Miss Payne, but Miss Payne had already vanished.
“Well, we are landed at last!” she said, clasping her sister’s hand.
“Does it not seem almost too delightful?”
“Splendid!” cried Marjorie. “Do you know, Eileen, I have taken a fancy
to that pretty Miss Gilroy?”
“So have I,” answered Marjorie. “But I expect she will have a bad time,
poor dear, with Miss Colchester. Anyone can see Miss Gilroy is of the
orderly sort. Now, I don’t care a bit about having things in perfect
order.”
“But, Marjorie,” said Eileen, “I have been reading up about that lately,
and I think you and I ought to cultivate order very assiduously if we
mean to be really useful women. Oh, by the way! our hair is beginning to
grow; we must find a barber to-morrow in order to reduce our crops to
the right length.”
“An inch and a half being the length permitted,” said Marjorie, with a
smile. “I am curious to see poor old Belle. Lettie will have awful tales
to tell of her. Well, this life is interesting, is it not, Eileen?”