A DOUBLE PUZZLE
Mary Reynolds slipped into her place at dinner that night with red
eyelids and a woebegone expression on her small face. Evelyn did not
enter the dining-room until after the others had began their meal.
Despite the air of careless indifference with which she took her seat,
Grace fancied she saw a gleam of anxiety in her eyes. From the few words
she had overheard she understood not only the meaning of Mary's
dejection, but also of Evelyn's anxious look. But what was it that
Evelyn had required of Mary and that Mary had bluntly refused to do?
Suppose Evelyn had involved herself in some fresh difficulty. To Grace
the thought was distinctly disturbing. Still she felt that it was not
within her province to interfere. After all it might be nothing of vital
importance, merely a girls' disagreement.
Resolutely dismissing the matter from her mind, Grace thought no more of
it. That evening Evelyn came to her as she sat reading in the living
room and, in her most distant manner, notified Grace that she intended
to go to the dance to be given by the Gamma Kappa Phi, a Willston
fraternity, at their fraternity house. Miss Hilton, a member of the
Overton faculty, would chaperon her. There were four other freshmen
besides herself invited.
Grace made no objection to Evelyn's announcement. After the severe
reprimand she had received it was hardly probable that Evelyn would
again misrepresent matters. Quite by accident the next day she
encountered Miss Hilton upon the campus, and the teacher confirmed
Evelyn's story by mentioning the dance and inquiring if Grace had been
asked to do chaperon duty. "I am surprised that you weren't," had been
Miss Hilton's comment when Grace answered that her services had not been
solicited.
Grace had smiled to herself as she went on her way. She was not in the
least surprised at not being invited by Evelyn to play chaperon. She was
glad that she had not been asked. She decided that she would not have
accepted. The dance was to be held on the Friday evening of the
following week, and on the Saturday morning after she would be on her
way to Oakdale.
How long and yet how short the days seemed that lay between her and
home. Long because of her impatience to see her father and mother, short
because of the multifold details to be attended to in Harlowe House.
"I'm so tired," she sighed when, at seven o'clock on Friday evening, she
saw her trunk and Emma's safely in the hands of the expressman. "Thank
goodness our packing is done and gone and out of the way. Let's do
recreation stunts to-night, Emma. Suppose we call upon Kathleen and
Patience. Incidentally we can pay our respects to Laura Atkins and
Mildred Taylor. If they aren't busy we might have a quiet celebration
just for auld lang syne at Vinton's. We can be home by ten o'clock."
"All right," agreed Emma, who knelt on the floor, her glasses pushed
above her forehead, wrestling valiantly with a refractory strap of her
suit case. A moment and she had buckled it into place with a triumphant
cluck. "There, that won't have to be done at the last minute. Shall I
telephone the girls that we are coming? It's after seven now."
"Yes, do."
Emma left the room returning shortly.
"They are all at home. The sooner we reach Wayne Hall the sooner the
celebration will begin," she reminded.
"Then we'll go at once."
Five minutes later the two young women were on their way across the
campus. As they neared Wayne Hall a limousine passed containing Miss
Hilton, Althea Parker and a freshman friend of Evelyn's. Althea was
driving. She bowed curtly to Grace and Emma as her car whizzed by them.
"They are going for Evelyn, I suppose," commented Emma.
"Yes. Oh, bother!" exclaimed Grace, "I've forgotten a letter to Arline
which I must mail to-night. Will you wait until I go back for it?"
With light feet Grace sped across the campus, letting herself into the
house with her latch key. As she stepped into the hall, a buzz of voices
caused her eyes to be fixed on the living-room. Through the parted
curtains she saw a dazzling figure which was standing in the middle of
the living room, surrounded by a group of admiring girls.
It was Evelyn, looking like some wonderful fairy vision in a gown of
apricot satin and chiffon, embroidered with exquisite little sprays of
tiny rosebuds. The excitement of wholesale admiration had deepened the
blue of her eyes to violet and her usual expression of bored
indifference had changed to one of intense animation, due to her love of
adulation. Grace watched her fascinatedly for a moment, then,
remembering that Emma was waiting for her, she hurried on upstairs for
her letter and out of the house, unobserved by the group of girls in the
living room.
"Was I gone long?" she asked as she rejoined her friend. "I stopped for
a minute in the hall to look at Evelyn Ward. She was posing in the
middle of the living room for the benefit of an admiring populace. She
is going to the Gamma Kappa Phi dance. Miss Hilton and Miss Parker and
some of our girls composed the populace. I suppose I ought to have gone
in and spoken to them instead of slipping out like a criminal, but I
didn't wish to lose time. Really, Emma, I can't begin to tell you how
beautiful Evelyn looked!"
"Her white silk evening gown is a work of art. I wish I had a sister Ida
to sew for me," commented Emma.
"Oh, she wasn't wearing her white silk. Her gown was apricot satin
and--" Grace came to an abrupt stop. "Why--she--that was a new gown. How
could she--"
"Have a new gown when her sister is too ill to make it," supplemented
Emma dryly.
Two pairs of eyes exchanged questioning glances.
"She may have brought it with her when she came to Overton," said Grace.
"She is very secretive, you know. All along she may have been saving it
for some such occasion as this dance."
"True enough," admitted Emma. "Always take people at their face value
until you find they haven't any," she added cheerfully.
"I shall," declared Grace. "I'm not going to spoil my Easter vacation by
worrying over something that is really Evelyn's own affair."