CATHALINA FINDS HER ROOMMATE
“All these girls,” thought Cathalina, “and I don’t know a single
one!—but Alma.” The night before and at breakfast she had been at Miss
Randolph’s table, with her father and a few teachers, in the
comparatively empty, echoing dining room. One other table was set and
boasted a teacher and a few quiet, tired girls who had come a long
distance.
Miss Randolph’s door stood wide open, and there was Miss Randolph,
standing, note book in hand, in the midst of a roomful of girls in
various stages of bewilderment, weariness, or interest, waiting their
turn. A few mothers, fathers and other guardians of youth waited also.
As Cathalina peeped in rather timidly, feeling, however, that Miss
Randolph was her only rock in a sea of uncertainty, that lady beckoned
her in and spoke to a young girl near, whose bright, alert look and
winning expression Cathalina had noticed.
“Miss Lancaster, this is Miss Van Buskirk, who will, I am sure, show you
to your room and make it unnecessary for you to wait any longer. Alma is
busy elsewhere, Cathalina,—if you do not mind,—”
“I shall be very glad,” said Cathalina, unconsciously imitating the
Sylvia Van Ness Van Buskirk sweetest manner of courtesy.
“Hilary Lancaster will be your roommate,” continued Miss Randolph,
turning away rather abruptly to attend to the wants of one of the older
girls who came in just then with perplexity written on her face. Many
adjustments were necessary in these first school days. There were a few
single rooms, some large suites, occupied by several girls together, and
smaller ones like the two-room suite to be occupied by Cathalina and
Hilary.
As playing the part of hostess came naturally to Cathalina, Hilary, for
of course it was the Hilary, received a much better impression of her
new roommate than if she had arrived first to see Cathalina in the
throes of homesickness. “Pretty and awfully sweet,” was Hilary’s mental
comment. Cathalina, too, was delighted with the bright, companionable
girl who, full of interest and chatting away, went gaily to their little
suite.
Hilary went first to the windows to take a look at the lake, then threw
hat and jacket on the bed and dropped herself into the one rocking
chair. Cathalina was already seated on the foot of her own bed,
beginning to sort a few leftovers.
“Isn’t this the most lovely place? I’ve been crazy to come ever since I
got over the first shock of giving up my high-school class. I can
scarcely believe that I’m actually here for two years.”
“O, won’t you go home?” asked Cathalina, who often took things
literally.
“Yes, of course, vacations; but I can be here two whole years. And then
if nothing happens, I’m going to college.” Hilary said this as if there
were nothing more in life to be desired.
Cathalina was amused, for her ambitions, so far, had not included
completing any course here, to say nothing of a four years’ college
course.
“Rap-rap” at their sitting room door. Both girls started to answer the
knock. There stood an attractive girl in a pink kimono. Two heavy braids
of blonde hair, tied together with a pink ribbon, hung straight from a
shapely head. Pretty white teeth gleamed when she gave them a happy
smile and held out a pan of fudge. “Come over to fifty-one,” she said,
as each selected a piece of hot candy. “We heard that fifty-two had some
new girls. Come over and be social, though you mustn’t mind how we
look.”
Hilary and Cathalina did not hesitate, but followed the pink kimono and
the pan of fudge into a room that looked like the first stages of a
rummage sale. Pennants, books, pictures, clothing, boxes, curtains,
bedding, and all sorts of articles strewed tables, chairs and floor. And
there on the rug, in the middle of the floor, for want of a better seat,
were three more girls in gay kimonos. Cathalina observed that these
girls had done what her mother had warned her not to do. They had taken
everything out of trunks in a hurry, to pile it all here, there and
everywhere until convenient to sort and find a place for the articles of
this remarkable collection. Nobody was worrying about it, that was
evident.
“Can you really make fudge here?” Hilary was asking as they entered.
“Not in our rooms, but there is a place on every floor where we can make
fudge or press our clothes or—anything. And these, ladies,” continued
the Pink Kimono with a sweeping gesture, “are the Imps, or in other
words, the Misses Diane Percy and Helen Paget, sometimes also known as
the Sweet P’s, though we can’t say that is very original. We always have
Sweet P’s at Greycliff. The other frail being who is unable to rise is
Betty Barnes, my unhappy companion in misery, that is, she is in
misery—my roommate. Elizabeth, can’t you do anything but grin?”
Three slim arms reached to shake hands and pull Hilary and Cathalina
down into the charmed circle, where a bag of salted peanuts was set
before them.
“Perhaps you would like to know our names too,” said Hilary as she took
the bag and poured a few peanuts into Cathalina’s hand. “We are
Cathalina Van Buskirk, she—and Hilary Lancaster, me. I prefer rhyme to
grammar, you see, by poetic license, as my learned father might say. And
may we please know the name of the Pink Kimono?”
“Beg pardon,” said that bright mystery, sitting down with the rest. “I
am Lilian North. But wouldn’t that make a good name for a detective
story or a movie?—‘The Pink Kimono.’ Honestly, girls, I am so full of
nonsense today that I am positively silly!”
Diane assumed a pained expression and said in a stage whisper to the
other “Imp”, “She has discovered it.”
“Imp!” cried Lilian.
Diane Percy was grey-eyed and red-cheeked, with a crisp, decided way of
speaking; while her roommate, Helen Paget, was golden-haired, with dark
eyes, and a delicious Southern drawl. Betty Barnes was slim and fair,
her soft, dark hair tied with a rose ribbon, her blue eyes much like
Cathalina’s in hue, her manner demure, and a trifle more reserved than
that of Lilian. All were nice girls and this proved to be the beginning
of a happy friendship for both Cathalina and Hilary. Of their homes and
history we may learn more later.
The amount of fudge and peanuts was steadily diminishing, while many
things about the school were being discussed and the girls were getting
acquainted, when Hilary sprang up suddenly at the sound of baggage,
being thumped and bumped not far away. “That must be my six band boxes
and a bird cage,” said she, and with a farewell wave disappeared.
“I must go too,” said Cathalina, wondering if Hilary really did have
band-boxes. “Thank you all so much for the good time; you must come over
to see us—won’t you?”
“Indeed we will,” replied Lilian and the others variously expressed
their friendly intentions. Number 51 was a three-room suite, two single
beds in each bedroom, the common sitting room large and sunny, with an
attractive window seat, which would doubtless be fitted up with cushions
when the girls finally decided to straighten up their belongings. As
Cathalina left the girls for her own quarters, a young cyclone in short
dress and with new shoes that squeaked, bumped past, almost upsetting
Cathalina, and with a careless “beg pardon”, flew past, breaking in a
door a little further down the hall and shutting it with a bang.
Cathalina stood looking after her with a shocked expression, and Hilary,
who just then appeared in the door of 52, laughed and remarked, “Another
of our neighbors, I suppose!”
Hilary’s cedar chest, which had been carefully wrapped and crated, stood
in all its glory inside the room, and the old janitor, as he appeared to
be, seeming to be in charge of the trunk brigade, was unstrapping a
trunk outside.
“O, thank you!” cried Hilary, as the perspiring janitor unlocked the
trunk with the key she handed him.
“No tips,” whispered Cathalina aside; “Miss Randolph said she does not
allow it.”
Hilary, who had not traveled, except from one of her father’s
appointments to another, hardly knew what tipping was, and would never
have thought of it, looked wise and said nothing.
A busy hour or two followed. Cathalina told Hilary how nicely her plan
worked, so Hilary did likewise, transferring her belongings, rather
slowly, it is true, from trunk to closet, bureau drawers and cedar chest
without the confusion of the neighboring room. Only light articles had
been packed in the cedar chest for the trip.
“It takes longer at first,” remarked Hilary, “but it seems to be the
better way. I hope you will not mind, Cathalina, but I’m really not very
neat. You see, there was always so much to do at home that I neglected
my room sometimes for other things and June so often picked up for both
of us.”
“I’m not neat, either,” said Cathalina, “because Etta,—well, I just
don’t know how very well.”
“We’ll have to criticise and train each other, then. You come to the
bedroom door and say, ‘My dear Hilary, do you intend to leave those
things on that chair?’ and I will say politely, ‘O, no, indeed,
Cathalina, pray come in and sit down!’” Hilary illustrated her supposed
hospitality by lifting from a chair the armful of clothing which she had
just sorted. “I heard Diane say that Miss Randolph is very particular
about how the girls keep their rooms.”
“Yes, and do you remember how Betty said without smiling a bit that that
was why they were in such a hurry to get fixed up!—sitting there in all
that muss!” Cathalina stood by the dresser, tucking away the last box of
trinkets. She appeared quite a different Cathalina from the one who
cheerfully but tearfully had waved farewell to her father earlier that
morning. “Let’s go down and see what the grounds look like as soon as
you are through.”
“All right,” assented Hilary. “I believe I’ll stop now; I’m tired. The
worst is over and I can lay the rest of the things out of the trunk on
the bed. Then the trunk can be taken down the next time the men come up
with a load. Perhaps that’s why the other girls did that way.”
“Perhaps.”
“Wait till I fix up a little. We have lots to learn, I guess.”
“My, I think so! There are loads of things that I ought to have brought
to make the room look nice, and then I’m going to find a chest something
like yours if I can, or maybe Mother will send me one,” continued
Cathalina who remembered that she was not to have or appear to have much
money.
“Mm-hm,” came Hilary’s muffled assent as she slipped into a fresh cool
dress.
The girls explored the front hall downstairs, glancing from side to side
and peeping into the two large reception rooms which occupied the entire
front. At the end of the long corridor, a wide window looked out upon
Greycliff Wood, into which a pretty path opened and disappeared, lost to
view among the trees and bushes. The lake was dimly seen at the right,
and at their left the rising ground and wooded hills which extended back
of Greycliff Hall. A door was near this window, and a short flight of
steps to the ground. As the girls started down the steps, two attractive
girls stood up politely to let them pass. One, looking a second time at
Hilary, exclaimed, “Why, isn’t this Hilary Lancaster?”
“Indeed it is.”
“Don’t you remember me—Grace Barnard? At your aunt’s not long ago.”
“O, yes!—at that picnic! How funny! Did you know you were coming here
then?”
“Yes, this is my third year here, but I did not dream of your coming!”
“The funny thing is that I did not mention Greycliff. I was so full of
it that I thought I was never with anybody five minutes without speaking
of it. But did Aunt Hilary know that you are a Greycliff girl?”
“No; I’ve only just met your aunt.”
“My, to think what I missed knowing about Greycliff besides looking
forward to having somebody I knew here!”
Cathalina and the other girl had been exchanging amused glances and now
introductions became general.
“This is my roommate,” said Hilary, “Cathalina Van Buskirk, from New
York.”
“And this is my friend, Eloise Winthrop,” returned Grace. “I hope she is
going to get into our suite this year, but it isn’t decided yet.”
“We are just exploring,” said Hilary. “I was tired of unpacking.”
“Come on, then, we’ll go with you if you don’t mind. There is hardly
time before luncheon to take you through the grove or down to the beach,
but we can look around a little.”
The girls paired off, Grace with Hilary, Eloise with Cathalina, arm in
arm. Eloise’s heavy, dark hair was braided about her head and crowned
with a bright scarlet bow. Her face was full of animation and her light,
active figure was a match for Cathalina’s grace, but Eloise had the
suppressed energy and nervous force that Cathalina seemed to have lost.
As she talked to Cathalina she frequently turned to look at her with a
pair of starry brown eyes which quite stirred Cathalina into a lively
enjoyment of her present adventures.
Crossing the lawn in front, they stopped a moment at the fountain where
two plump cupids were catching water in a sea shell.
“That building so close to Greycliff Hall is Randolph Hall,” explained
Grace, as they strolled by. “It was named in honor of Miss Randolph’s
uncle, because he gave a lot of money to endow the school. Almost all
the recitation rooms are there, and the hall where we have chapel and
other doings. Over there is the Gym and the Domestic Science building.
And there are the stables and riding pavilion.”
“Come around by Randolph,” said Eloise, “If you want to see the rest.
The Music Hall is only a frame building and they are trying to raise
money for a better one. But we have a fine pipe organ in Randolph. The
studios are all prettily furnished and they have good pianos. I’m
practicing on a fright, though. And a girl right over my head, with the
same practice hour, keeps time with her foot—or did last year. I’m going
to speak for a different piano this time. Look over to your left now.
That’s the Pest House.”
“Pest House!” exclaimed Cathalina, “do you often have contagious
diseases?”
“That is our name for the hospital We have two nurses and one of them
isn’t much older than some of the girls.”
“That makes me think,” said Cathalina, “I notice that some of the girls
seem so grown up, like college girls.”
“Why, you know there are two years of college work here. We call them
Junior and Senior Collegiate, or Junior and Senior C. I’m Junior
Academy, what are you?”
“Father said Junior Academy, I think, but I’m not sure. I didn’t read
the catalogue; it was too much trouble.”
“So am I Junior Academy!” cried Hilary, and turned inquiringly to Grace.
“Me, too,” said she laughing, “how jolly!”
“You can usually tell the Collegiate girls, Cathalina, by their looks
and ways and the way they do their hair. Sometimes they try to be smart
with us. As soon as there is enough money there is going to be a
Collegiate Cottage, and a building for art, too. All the girls have for
a studio now is a room on the upper floor of Greycliff Hall.”
Cathalina looked interested. “That is one thing I just adore! But my
father knows if I get started in that I will just stick around and draw
and paint half the time. He wants to have me get outdoors as much as
possible.”
“My, that would be the limit,—drawing!” said Hilary. “Excuse me, high
school slang. Father said I was to cut it out entirely.”
“‘Cut it out?’” suggested Eloise, mischievously.
“Yes, there it is again; it doesn’t seem to be as much easier here as
Father thought.”
“We girls are not any too particular here,” remarked Grace, “but Miss
Randolph says a great deal about it and some of us are trying to use
good English. Our English teacher told us last year that ‘our speech
influences our thought’ and that after a while we will not be able to
think anything but the slang—‘and what will you do when you want to
associate with people of refinement?’ she asked. She said we’d be
embarrassed and not be able to talk and people would think us idiots!”
“How awful!”
“It certainly made a hit with you, Grace.”
“Well, I should say so, and because _my_ father said that if I came home
and talked like my cousins, May and Jane, just out of college, he wasn’t
going to let me go to school at all, but have a governess or something.
And that would spoil all my plans!”
Cathalina listened amazed, recalling that she had always had the private
teaching.
“There is Patricia West, Eloise,” said Grace. A young woman came out of
the music building and walked rapidly across the campus, smiling and
waving her hand at the girls.
“She is one of our instructors, Cathalina, new this year. She is one of
the old grads here, finished in one year at college by taking summer
school, took out her M. A. last year and here she is. Everybody likes
Patty. I had a terrible crush my first year here.”
Cathalina knew only vaguely what a “crush” was, but said nothing. How
much older Grace seemed, probably about sixteen.
“I am certainly not ashamed of admiring Patty because she is so dear.
They say that the boys are crazy about her, even if she does know so
much. She has oodles of beaus.”
Cathalina and Hilary turned to look again at the girl that had “oodles
of beaus”, for no girl is so young that there is not some fascination
about romance.
“What’s the use of all this, then?” and Eloise waved her hands at the
intellectual surroundings.
“She likes it,” answered Grace. “I’ll bet she’s been in signing up for
piano now. Very likely she’ll teach and take several courses besides.”
“Mercy!” murmured Cathalina.
“It isn’t natural,” wailed Eloise in pretended grief. “That sort of girl
ought to be homely and absent-minded. Of course, she’ll be a cross
teacher anyhow, if she does look so sweet.”
“Almost lunch time, girls,” announced Grace, glancing at her wrist
watch. “I have to go up to the suite first,—can you girls find your way
to the dining room? I promised to hunt up a new girl and take her down
and one of our suite-mates is waiting for us too.”
“I’ve been to the dining room twice,” said Cathalina. “Don’t worry about
us.”
“Goodbye, then, till we see you later,” and Grace and Eloise ran swiftly
across the campus toward Greycliff Hall.