PAGE MINUS DEAN
Thanksgiving Day dawned without the tiniest streak of sunlight to grace
it. Early in the morning heavily overcasted clouds began emptying their
cold dispiriting torrents of rain upon a brown and soggy earth.
Safe within the cheerful walls of Castle Dean Marjorie’s delight in
being at home was dampened by the thought of how Robin Page and her
volunteer entertainment committee were battling against such a dreary
day. She could only hope that the steady persistency of the Sanford
downpour was not repeating itself at Hamilton. True she and Robin had
planned their program to cover that possible calamity. Bad weather could
not fail to make it harder for Robin, Phil and Barbara to keep things
moving with the energy and smoothness so necessary as a means toward
uniting the interests and the sympathies of the students of the various
campus houses with those of the dormitory girls.
While Marjorie, Leila, Vera and Jerry were cosily ensconced in the
Deans’ living room lamenting over the bad weather, Robin Page, Phil
Moore and Barbara Severn were holding a serious consultation of three in
Robin’s room.
“It’s after ten o’clock now Phil,” Robin was saying. “Really, I think
I’d better brave the rain, go over to the garage and run Vera’s car into
town. Anna said yesterday that there were only two busses running on the
new bus line. There were three, but one has been taken away to another
route. Seventy-two girls will crowd two busses. Suppose anything should
happen to either of the two? I told Anna to get the crowd to the inn by
half past twelve. It will take longer to run out from town in the
pouring rain. We mustn’t be a minute late at the inn.”
“I’m very well aware of that, sweet coz,” Phil returned in her bantering
fashion. “Far be it from me to allow the gang to be late and disarrange
the well-laid plans of Guiseppe.”
“If you intend to paddle out in this deluge and play duck, count me in,”
Barbara made valiant announcement.
“You can’t lose me, either,” Phil decided. “Slave, bring me my raincoat,
my faithful Tam and my goloshes! Out in the tempest I must go!” She
struck a dramatic posture, held it a moment, then said disappointedly:
“I fail to see anyone around here who answers to the name of slave. I’ll
have to be it myself.”
Ten minutes later the three, with raincoats buttoned to the chin, caps
drawn low, high-buckled goloshes on their feet, the largest umbrellas
they could find over their heads, were plodding through the rain to the
garage which housed Vera’s car. The latter had urged Robin to make use
of it during her absence. Leila’s, unfortunately, was laid up for
repairs.
“Some of the dormitory girls were going to walk to the campus today.
Just imagine!” Phil said ironically to Barbara. The two, seated in the
tonneau of the car, watched the drenched landscape through the
half-opened curtains as the machine fled along the pike.
“Wade would be more appropriate,” laughed Barbara. “But they’ve changed
their minds long before now. Deliver me from any more walks in this
flood. I don’t envy Robin her job of chauffeur.”
“We’re making good time.” Phil inspected her wrist watch with a
satisfied nod. “We ought to be at the place on Linden Avenue where the
busses make their stand by ten minutes past eleven. What time are the
dormitory girls to be at the stand?” She leaned forward and called out
her question in Robin’s ear.
“Half past eleven,” Robin raised her voice above the beat of the pelting
rain, but did not turn her head.
“They’ll have to mob the corner drug store nearest the stand. They can’t
stay out on the walk with the rain coming down in cataracts,” commented
Phil. “Anna Towne can be depended upon to have them at the bus stand on
time. Such a horrible flivver for a holiday! I don’t dare stop to think
of it,” she grumbled.
Her guess regarding their speedy arrival at the bus stand was an
accurate one. It was precisely ten minutes past eleven when Robin
brought the car to a stop before the drug store. The rain was still
driving down in misty sheets as the trio emerged from the automobile and
made a frantic dash across the sidewalk to the shelter of the drug
store. Immediately afterward Anna Towne and half a dozen of her intimate
friends arrived, radiant-faced in spite of the storm.
“This _is_ a surprise,” Anna greeted. She shook hands with the three
hardy Travelers as though it had been a long time instead of only
yesterday since she had seen them. “The rest of the crowd will soon be
here. I managed to telephone all of them this morning to be at the stand
at eleven-fifteen instead of eleven-thirty. Then we’ll surely be ready
to start at exactly eleven-thirty. The bus drivers are so disobliging.
They are hired specially to bring us to and from the campus yet they
never want to wait a second beyond a certain time for us to assemble.
They’re not supposed to carry any passengers but us during those trips.
But they do. I say this, not by way of complaining, Robin, I object to
their unfairness. A great difference between those Italians and Signor
Baretti, isn’t there? I think he is wonderfully kind to remember the
off-campus girls in such a generous way.” Anna’s pale, interesting face
brightened with appreciation.
“Signor Baretti has true college spirit,” Robin returned with
conviction. “I can’t imagine those two grumpy bus drivers as imbued with
any such noble quality; or that Italian, Sabani, the man they work for.
If those two kickers show any signs of grouchiness this morning I shall
read them a Thanksgiving lecture. It won’t be the kind to feel thankful
for, either. By the way, where are they? I ordered them to be here at
eleven and stay here until told to start for the inn.”
Involuntarily the group of girls moved nearer one of the huge
plate-glass show windows to peer, bright-eyed, into the rain-swept
street. As far as they could see, up and down the street, there were no
signs of the large dark red busses with their flashy yellow trimmings.
“It’s eighteen minutes past eleven,” Phil’s tones conveyed her
consternation. “Where _can_ those aggravating busses be?”
“Not where they should be,” scolded Robin. “Here comes a big crowd of
the girls. The busses should be here so that they could step directly
into them. They’ll have to come into the drug store instead. Maybe the
druggist will object to sheltering us. There’ll be enough dripping
umbrellas to flood the store. Oh, dear what a mess! Why did it have to
go and rain on Thanksgiving Day? And where, oh, where, are those
miserable drivers and their busses?”
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