THE THIRTY-THIRD GIRL
"I am sorry," said Grace gently, "but I am afraid it will be impossible
for me to do anything for your sister this year. Harlowe House will
hold, comfortably, thirty-two girls and no more. It isn't so much a
matter of meals. They could, perhaps, be arranged, but I haven't a room
for your sister. Could she afford to rent a room in town and come here
for her meals?" This was an afterthought on Grace's part, born of the
desire to clear away the cruel shadow of disappointment that clouded the
pale face of the woman who sat opposite her in her little office.
"I--am--afraid not," faltered the pale, thin woman, her tired eyes
filling with an expression of resignation. "I thought I might be able to
manage her college fees, if her living expenses could be arranged. We
were so sorry that she did not win a scholarship. You are quite sure
that there is no chance for her here?" she asked pleadingly, for the
fourth time. "She has set her heart on coming to Overton. College means
so much to a girl, and Evelyn is so clever. It seems a pity that she
must stop with only a high school education."
Grace knitted her brows in earnest thought, while the pleading voice
talked on. She felt an overpowering sympathy, not for the sister who
wished to come to Overton, but for the sister who was now advocating her
cause. And even as she thought the way in which one more girl might
partake of the benefits of Harlowe House came to her. It was a way of
sacrifice; she was not even sure that it could be done. Something in the
expression of her face, however, seemed to inspire the woman opposite
her with new hope. She leaned forward, with the eager question: "Am I
wrong or does your face tell me that there is a chance for Evelyn?" For
the first time she mentioned her sister's name.
"'Evelyn,'" repeated Grace half musingly. "What a pretty name. How old
is your sister, Miss Ward?"
"She was eighteen last August."
"I can make you no definite promise yet," returned Grace slowly. "Could
you come to see me this afternoon at four o'clock? I shall know then
whether the plan I have in mind can be carried out."
"I will come," promised the woman eagerly, her eyes kindling with happy
light. "I thank you for your kindness." Her voice trembled with
gratitude. She rose to go, looking as though she would like to say more
but could not find words in which to express herself.
"You are quite welcome. I will try very hard to place her," was Grace's
parting assurance.
After the woman, who had introduced herself as Ida Ward, had gone, Grace
went slowly upstairs and into her pretty sitting-room. She looked long
and fixedly at each attractive appointment, then she walked on into the
bedroom, which she and Emma shared, and surveyed it with the same
searching gaze. "I can't do it unless Emma is willing," she murmured. "I
dislike asking her after inviting her to share my suite. Still, we've
always been frank with each other. I'll tell her the exact circumstances
as soon as she comes home to luncheon, and let her decide what we had
better do." Having determined upon her course of action Grace went
downstairs again and was soon deep in the laying-out of next week's menu
for Harlowe House, a task in which she had been engaged when Miss Ida
Ward was announced.
It was now two weeks since Overton College had opened. The thirty-two
applicants for places in Harlowe House had, without exception, passed
through the trying ordeal of their entrance examinations with varying
degrees of success, but not one had actually failed. They had come into
the house, which was their Open Sesame to college, in twos and threes.
Few of them were pretty, but even the plainest of their faces bore the
unmistakable stamp of intelligence that marks the scholar. The
half-brooding, anxious look in young eyes and the womanly dignity,
prematurely gained through hand to hand conflict with poverty, were
certain indications that the girls of Harlowe House were there for
earnest work and not for play.
And now a thirty-third girl was knocking at the gate for admittance to
the Land of College. Grace wondered vaguely why Evelyn Ward had not come
to plead her own cause. The words of Ida Ward, "I thought I might be
able to manage her college fees," returned to her with disquieting
force. Then she made a little impatient gesture. "Grace Harlowe, what is
the matter with you? You are judging poor Evelyn Ward without giving her
an opportunity to defend herself. You know nothing whatever of the
Wards' affairs. There may be a dozen good reasons for Miss Ward's coming
here in her sister's behalf. Don't be so suspicious. Wait until you see
Evelyn Ward before you judge her."
Although Grace did not realize it she was already thinking of Evelyn
Ward as a member of Harlowe House. There was no fear of refusal on
Emma's part. Long acquaintance with her good-natured, easy-going
classmate had taught her that Emma was equal to, if not more than a
match for, almost any emergency.
"Emma would take her belongings and camp out in the hall if I asked her
to," smiled Grace to herself as she went slowly downstairs to her office
and, seating herself at her desk, took up the writing on which she had
been engaged when her caller was announced.
She was still hard at work when the girls began to come in for luncheon,
one after another, and at last she heard Emma's delightful drawl as she
exchanged pleasantries with one of the freshmen who had opened the door
for her.
"Oh, Emma," she called, stepping to the door of her office, "will you
come in here, please? I need you."
By the time Grace had finished speaking Emma was standing in the
doorway, peering owlishly at her. "Most Gracious Grace," she salaamed,
"what is your majesty's magnificent pleasure with your worthless and
most despicable dog of a servant?"
"I don't know any such person," laughed Grace. Then, her face sobering,
she plunged into the middle of things with, "What would you say, Emma,
if I were to give half of our quarters to some one else?"
"I'd say that I was lucky to have half of the half that's left," was
Emma's prompt retort.
"You're a dear!" cried Grace impulsively. "I knew you were true blue.
Still, I must tell you all about certain things before you decide. It's
just this way, Emma." Grace began with Miss Ward's call and recounted to
Emma all that had passed between herself and the stranger. Emma listened
without comment until Grace had finished with, "Now tell me what you
think, Emma."
"I think it is positively noble in you to be willing to give up one of
your rooms," emphasized Emma. "As far as I am concerned I'm not a
'chooser.' I'm here because of that same saving grace--it's as much a
part of you as your name--which is reaching out now to put one more girl
in Overton. What can any strictly honorable, four-cornered person say
except, 'I'm with you,' and here's my hand in seal and token of it."
"Thank you, Emma," Grace's quiet words and warm handclasp were eloquent
with appreciation of her friend's unselfish viewpoint, "Suppose we run
upstairs for a moment before luncheon to look around and decide which of
the two rooms we can best do without. And, O, Emma, we'll have room for
a thirty-fourth girl, if she happens along. I never thought of that. In
the face of all that a college education will mean to this girl our
personal comfort rather pales into insignificance."
"Who are we that we should revel in the fleshpots of Overton while the
stranger knocks at our gates?" supplemented Emma. "Now which is it to
be? Shall we say, 'good-bye beloved sitting-room, ne'er shall we behold
thy like again,' or shall we bid fond adieu to the bedroom? I ask but
one concession, let us reserve our nice private bathroom. It has a value
above rubies."
"Of course we'll keep our bathroom. There are three others in the house
of which these new girls can have the use. As long as the bathroom opens
into both rooms, I shall bolt the door leading into the room we give
Miss Ward. That may appear a trifle inhospitable on the surface, but I
wish to keep what is left of our apartment as secluded as possible,"
ended Grace, opening the door into the sitting-room. "Now, which shall
it be, Emma?"
Emma prowled contemplatively about the suite, her hands in her coat
pockets, her glasses pushed far over her nose. Finally she paused before
Grace. Settling her glasses at their proper angle she said earnestly, "I
don't wish to seem selfish, Grace, but really I think you are entitled
to the sitting-room. It's larger and lighter. It's more attractive in
every way. I am not thinking of myself in this matter, I am thinking of
you. You are the brains and brawn of Harlowe House, therefore you must
be made comfortable if you are to do good work here. The other room is
easily large enough to accommodate two girls. It is larger than the
rooms we occupied at Wayne Hall."
"I know it." Grace strolled reflectively through the open bathroom door
and on into the bedroom. When she returned, she had decided. "You are
right, Emma. I don't believe it would be selfish to keep this room. Now
how shall we furnish it?"
"Don't ask me to decide that," protested Emma. "I feel as though I ought
to pack my belongings and go to one of the faculty houses, Grace. It
isn't fair to you for me to stay here and be a cumberer of your room."
"Emma Dean, if you do!" Grace caught Emma by the shoulders and proceeded
to shake her.
"Wait! Stop!" implored Emma. "My glasses! And lenses cost money!"
"Will you stay?" demanded a relentless voice. The shaking continued, but
gently.
"I will. That is, I'll have to, or pay the oculist."
Grace's hands fell from Emma's shoulders.
"I didn't want to pack and go," confessed Emma, "but I was trying to be
as fair to you as you are to every one else."
"It wouldn't be one bit fair in you to leave me. You promised to see me
through, you know," reproached Grace.
"So I did, and so I will," declared Emma, "I take back all I said. From
now on I am as much of a fixture here as the kitchen range or the window
seat."
Grace laughed at Emma's absurd declaration. "I couldn't let you go,
Emma. You are too good a comrade. Now let me think. I'll have my
dressing table brought in here, but, in order to make a combination
sitting and sleeping room of this, we will have to buy a couch bed. The
davenport there is a bed too. We'll put it across that corner, and have
the couch against that wall. We'll have to keep the dressing table. We
can't avoid that. I don't know what to do with my bed. It is
three-quarter size. I selected it purposely, so that I'd have room for
two of the girls at a time if they dropped in unexpectedly. I don't like
to sell it. It matches the set."
"Why not leave it in the other room," suggested Emma. "If girl number
thirty-four never materializes then Miss Evelyn Ward can occupy the
whole bed, if she chooses."
"But suppose we do admit another girl?"
"Sufficient unto the day, etc.," shrugged Emma. "When she appears, then
let the committee take action."
"I'll buy a smaller dressing table to match the bed, if I can, and a
chiffonier. I can't quite give mine up to this newcomer. There goes the
luncheon bell. I must hurry downstairs to the kitchen to see if
everything is all right."
Grace hastened down the stairs, with her friend at her heels. Emma went
directly to the dining-room and took her place at the table laid for two
at the lower end of the room. This table belonged exclusively to her and
Grace. The dining-room at Harlowe House had been furnished after the
fashion of a pretty little tea shop at which Grace had often lunched in
New York. The walls were done in white with a faint blue and silver
stripe. The ceiling was white with a decoration of deep blue corn
flowers. The floor was covered with a thread and thrum rug in blue and
white, and instead of two long tables there were several small ones
which seated from four to six persons. In the middle of each table was a
vase of flowers, and the effect of the whole room was dainty and
homelike. Grace had spent much thought on the dining-room. The buffet,
serving tables, tables and chairs were white, and the silver, linen and
various other appointments had been carefully chosen.
"I wish the girls to feel that this room is a place where they can eat
and be merry. It is in the dining-room that they will first become
acquainted with one another," Grace had said to Mrs. Gray while they
were choosing the dining-room furniture. "I like the idea of having the
small tables. The girls can talk quietly and confidentially, if they
choose. Besides it looks so cosy and informal."
As Grace ate her luncheon that day her eyes wandered to the various
tables. She was speculating as to where she would seat Evelyn Ward.
Already she thought of her as one of her girls.
At precisely four o'clock the door bell rang and the maid ushered Ida
Ward into the living-room. Her large eyes were wide with anxiety and
suspense as she sat nervously on the edge of her chair, trying to appear
composed. She tried to answer Grace's reassuring smile, but her anxious
eyes belied her wanly-smiling lips.
"I have good news for you, Miss Ward," said Grace brightly. "I have made
room for your sister. When may I expect her?"
Ida Ward's lips moved, but she made no sound. Then, to Grace's
consternation, she covered her face with her black-gloved hands and
began to cry quietly. For an instant Grace sat in embarrassed silence.
She hardly knew what consolation to offer this poor, pale woman who
looked as though she carried the burdens of the world upon her slender
shoulders. Before she could think of anything to say, Miss Ward suddenly
raised her head, wiped her eyes and said quietly, "Forgive me for
crying. I--am a little tired. I was rather overcome by the good news."
"Suppose we have tea in the living room," was Grace's kindly suggestion.
"What time does your train leave? By the way, I don't think I know where
you live."
"We live in Burton, a little town about two hundred miles from here,
with a population of six thousand people. I am a dressmaker. There are
only Evelyn and I, and I am fifteen years older than she. Mother died
when she was born. Father died only a year later and I have taken care
of her all her life. She is very beautiful. One of the prettiest girls I
have ever seen, and so clever." The plain face lighted as she described
Evelyn.
"How she loves her pretty sister," thought Grace.
Over the tea, dainty sandwiches and cakes, Ida Ward became quite
cheerful. When half an hour later she rose to take her leave, she looked
really happy. "How can I thank you for what you have done for Evelyn?"
she asked tremulously, her lips quivering. "My little sister will be so
glad. I am sure she can't help being happy in this beautiful house."
"Send her to us as soon as you can," advised Grace. "College has been
open for over three weeks and she will have quite an amount of work to
make up. This is Monday. May I expect her on Thursday?"
"Yes, she can leave Burton early Thursday morning. There is a train
which reaches here at two o'clock in the afternoon."
"Very well. I will send some one to meet her," promised Grace.
During the next two days Grace and Emma accomplished their moving so
quietly that no one in the house knew of the new member the morrow was
to bring. When everything had been put in place Emma declared cheerily
that they would never miss the other room.
At the last moment Grace decided to go in person to the train to meet
Evelyn. The memory of Ida Ward's white patient face haunted her. For her
sake her beloved sister should be cordially welcomed. Grace felt the
deepest respect and sympathy for the older sister.
"Miss Ward said her sister was very pretty," reflected Grace, then she
looked a trifle dismayed. She had received absolutely no other
description of the girl she was to meet. She did not know whether Evelyn
Ward was short or tall, stout or thin, dark or fair. "I'll simply have
to use my eyes and guess," was her mental comment, as she walked briskly
along the station platform just as the train whizzed down the track. Her
alert eyes scanned the nearest car steps where the porter was helping a
crotchety old man to the platform. Behind him, came a stout middle-aged
woman and two children. Grace scanned the next set of steps. Then, far
up the platform she saw a tall, slender, blue-clad figure walking toward
her at a leisurely pace. The girl carried a small handbag and a suit
case. When she came directly opposite Grace she paused, then, after a
deliberate survey, walked forward with outstretched hand. "Aren't you
Miss Harlowe?" she asked sweetly. "If you are, I am Evelyn Ward."