Beatrice Leigh at College

  BEATRICE LEIGH AT COLLEGE

  A Story for Girls

  by

  JULIA A. SCHWARTZ

  * * * * * *

  A SONG-CALENDARBY A. L. C.

  I

  "When blood of autumn Runs warm and redIn all the branches Over head--Sing clear bright sunshine, And tender haze,Sing glad beginning Of College Days!

  II

  "When pines and spruces Are bowed with snow,When ponds are frozen And keen winds blow--Sing cozy corners Or jingling sleighs,Sing work or frolic Of College Days!

  III

  "When comes sweet April, With soft slow rain,And earth has broken Her frozen chain--Sing low shy birdnotes, And woodland ways,Sing mirth and music Of College Days!

  IV

  "When June days linger, And warm winds blowO'er fields of daisies Adrift like snow--Sing sad leave-takings And tender praiseOf all the mem'ries Of College Days!"

  --Vassarion, '95.

  * * * * * *

  Cordial acknowledgment is due to the editors of the _Youth's Companion_ for their courteous permission to reprint in the following chapters of college life the episodes entitled respectively "Wanted: a Friend," and "Her Freshman Valentine."

  * * * * * *

  BEATRICE LEIGH AT COLLEGE

  A Story for Girls

  by

  JULIA A. SCHWARTZ

  Author of"Elinor's College Career" etc.

  Illustrated by Eva M. Nagel

  SHE HID HER FACE AGAINST MARTHA'S DRESS]

  The Penn Publishing CompanyPhiladelphia MCMVII

  Copyright 1907 by the Penn Publishing Company

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I Bea's Roommate 9 II Enter Robbie Belle 35 III A Question of Economy 59 IV Her Freshman Valentines 81 V The Giftie Gie Us 92 VI A Wave of Reform 115 VII Four Sophomores and a Dog 145 VIII Classes in Manners 172 IX This Vain Show 198 X Consequences 214 XI A Girl to Have Friends 231 XII An Original in Math 255 XIII Just This Once 283 XIV Classmates 299 XV Victory 321

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  PAGESHE HID HER FACE AGAINST MARTHA'S DRESS FrontispieceLila Stood Staring Out at the Snow 28"Anything New?" 73"Oh, Thank You; I Don't Want Anything to Eat" 96We Handed Over Five Dollars Apiece 201She Waved an Open Letter In Her Hand 276She Held Both Hands, Smiling 301

  BEATRICE LEIGH AT COLLEGE

  CHAPTER I

  BEA'S ROOMMATE

  Lila Allan went to college in the hope of finding an intimate friend atlast. Her mother at home waited anxiously for her earliest letters, anddevoured them in eager haste to discover some hint of success in thesearch; for being a wise woman she knew her own daughter, and understoodthe difficulty as well as the necessity of the case.

  The first letter was written on the day of arrival. It contained afrantic appeal for enough money to buy her ticket home immediately,because she had a lonesome room away up in the north tower, and nobodyhad spoken to her all the afternoon, and her trunk had not come yet, andshe did not know where the dining-room was, and the corridors were fullof packing-boxes with lids scattered around, and girls were hurrying toand fro with step-ladders and kissing each other and running to hug eachother, and everything.

  The second letter, written the following day, said that a freshman namedBeatrice Leigh had come up to help her unpack. Beatrice had a long braidtoo, and her hair was the loveliest auburn and curled around her face,and she laughed a good deal. Lila had noticed her the very first evening.She was sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the bigdining-room. When Lila saw her, she was giggling with her head bent downand her napkin over her eyes, while the other girls at that table smiledamused smiles. Lila knew instantly that this poor freshman had donesomething dreadful, and she was sorry for her. Later that same evening inMiss Merriam's room she told how she had marched in to dinner alone andplumped down at that table among all those seniors. She seemed toconsider it a joke, but Lila was sure she had been almost mortified todeath when she learned of her mistake, and that was why she had laughedso hard. Several other freshmen were at Miss Merriam's. Two of them werenamed Roberta, and one was named Gertrude something. But Lila likedBeatrice best. Miss Merriam called her Bea. Miss Merriam was a junior whohad invited in all the students at that end of the corridor to drinkchocolate. Lila did not care for her much, because she had a loud voiceand tipped back in her chair and said yep for yes.

  The third missive was only a postal card bearing a properly telegraphiccommunication to the effect that it was Saturday morning, and Bea waswaiting to escort her to the chapel to hear read the lists of freshmannames assigned to each recitation section. Mrs. Allan scanned the messagewith a quick throb of pleasure; then sighed as she laid it down. Theindications were hopeful enough if only Lila would be careful not todrive away this friend as she had the others.

  Meanwhile on that Saturday morning Bea and Lila, silent and shy, hadcrowded with their two hundred classmates into chapel. The two friendssat side by side. Lila was in terror of making some horrible blunder thatmight overwhelm her with a vast indefinite disgrace. She leaned forwardin the pew, the pencil trembling between her fingers, the blood poundingin her ears, while from the platform in front a cool voice read on evenlythrough page after page of names. And then at last the tragic despair offinding that she had jotted down herself for two sections in English andnone in Latin! When she managed to gasp out the awful situation in Bea'sear, that young person looked worried for full half a minute. It was avery serious thing to be a freshman. Then her cheery common sense came tothe rescue.

  "Never mind. We'll go up and look the lists over after she has finishedthem all."

  "Oh, can we? Will you truly go with me?" Lila drew a quick breath ofrelief and gratitude. This was one of the precious privileges of havingfound a friend. She gazed at Bea with such an adorable half-wistful,half-joyful smile on her delicate face that Bea never quite forgot thesensation of realizing that it was meant wholly for her. The memory of itreturned again and again in later days when Lila's exacting ways seemedbeyond endurance. For Lila's nature was one of those that give all anddemand all and suffer in a myriad mysterious ways.

  On the afternoon of that Saturday when Bea skipped up the narrow towerstairs to invite Lila to go to the orchard to gather a scrapbasket fullof apples, she discovered the door locked. In answer to her livelyrat-tattoo and gay call over the transom, she heard the key turn.

  Bea started to dash in; then after one glance stopped and fumbleduneasily with the knob. In her happy-go-lucky childhood with manybrothers and sisters at home, tears had always an embarrassing effect.

  "Let's--let's go to the orchard," she stammered. "It's lovely, and thefresh air will help your--your headache." She had a boyish notion thatanybody would prefer to excuse heavy eyes by calling it headache ratherthan tears.

  Lila pointed to the bed which was half made up.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded in agonized reproach. "I thoughtthe maids attended to the beds here. I left the mattress turned over thefoot all day long, and the door was wide open. Everybody in theneighborhood must have looked in and then decided that I was lazy andshiftless. They believe that I have been brought up to let things goundone like that. They do, they do! Miss Merriam just the same as saidso. She
poked in her head a minute ago and said, 'Heigho, little one,time to make up your bed. It has aired long enough and the maid is notexpected to do it.' She said that to me! Oh, I hate her!" Lila caught herbreath hard.

  Bea opened her candid eyes wider in astonished curiosity. "But didn't youwant to know about the maid?"

  "She mortified me. Do you know how it feels to be mortified? The--theawfulness--" Lila stopped and swallowed once or twice as if somethingstuck in her throat. "She might have told me in a different manner so asnot to wound me so heartlessly. She isn't a lady."

  "Please." Bea twirled the door-knob in worried protest. "Don't talk thatway. She is my friend. We live in the same town. She's nice, really.You've only seen the outside. Please!"

  "Oh, well!" Lila raised her shoulders slightly. "She isn't worthnoticing, I dare say. Such people never are. I can't help wishing thatyou were not acquainted with her. I want you all to myself. I'm glad shebelongs to another class anyhow."

  Into Bea's puzzled face crept a troubled expression. "You're a funnygirl, Lila," she said; "let's go to the orchard."

  On their way across the campus, they passed countless girls hurrying frombuilding to building. Every doorway seemed to blossom with a chatteringgroup, a loitering pair, or an energetic single lady on pressing businessbent. Bea met every glance with a look of bright friendliness in hereager eyes and lips ready to smile, no matter whether she had ever beenintroduced or not. But Lila's wild-flower face, in spite of its lovelytints and outlines, seemed almost icy in its expression of haughtycriticism. No wonder, then, that this miniature world of collegereflected a different countenance to each.

  "Aren't they the dearest, sweetest girls you ever saw!" exclaimed Bea asthe two freshmen turned from the curving concrete walk into the road thatled to the orchard.

  "I saw only one who was truly beautiful," commented her companion. "Iexpected to find them prettier."

  "Oh, but they are so interesting," protested Bea in quick loyalty."Nearly everybody appears prettier after you get acquainted. I've noticedthat myself. It is better to dawn than to dazzle, don't you think? SueMerriam, for instance, improves and grows nicer and nicer after you knowher. You will learn to love her dearly."

  "Never!"

  At the tone Bea gave an involuntary whistle; then checked herself atsight of Lila's quivering lips. "Oh, well, don't bother. Let's go on tothe orchard. Look! There comes Roberta Abbott with about a bushel ofrussets. She is a funny girl too. To judge from her appearance, you wouldsay she was sad and dignified. She has the most tragic dark eyes andmouth. But just wait till you hear her talk. Didn't you meet her lastnight at Sue's?"

  "Yes." Lila turned away to hide the flicker of jealousy, for she hadlearned long since how transparently every emotion showed in herfeatures. "I think we ought not to waste any time now. And anyway I'drather get acquainted with you all alone this afternoon."

  Bea stared. "You're the funniest girl!" She walked on after waving asociable hand at Roberta. "It is interesting to have friends that aredifferent, don't you think?"

  "To have one friend who is different," corrected Lila.

  "All right," laughed Bea. "Oh, see what a gorgeous glorious place thisis, with the trees and scarlet woodbine and the lake sparkling away overthere, and girls, girls, girls! But I don't believe that there is asingle other one exactly like you."

  During the next week this thought recurred to her more than once. Bymeans of some diplomatic maneuvering, the two friends managed to havetheir single rooms exchanged for a double. After moving in, Lila seized amoment of solitude to plan a beautiful cozy corner for Bea. She draggedher own desk into a dusky recess and set Bea's at an artistic angle atthe left side of the sunniest window. Just as she was hanging herfavorite picture above it, Bea came rushing in with her arms full of newbooks.

  "Oh, no, no, no!" she exclaimed impulsively, "that won't do at all. Youmust put it at the right so that the light will fall over the leftshoulder. Otherwise the shadow of your hand will go scrambling over thepaper ahead of your pen. Here, let me show you."

  By the time she had hauled the desk across to its new position, Lila hadvanished. Bea found her huddled in a woe-begone heap behind the wardrobedoor in her bedroom, and flew to her in dismay.

  "Oh, Lila, dearie, did you smash your finger or drop something on yourfoot? There, don't cry. I'll get the witch-hazel and arnica andcourt-plaster. What is it? Where? Why-ee!" she gasped bewildered, "why,Lila!" for her weeping roommate had pushed her gently away and turned herface to the wall.

  "I was doing it for you," she sobbed. "I was trying to please you, andthen you were so cr-cr-cruel! You were cruel."

  "Cruel?" echoed Bea, "why, how? I haven't done a thing except buy thebooks I ordered last week. Yours were down in the office, too, but Ididn't have enough money for all, because Sue Merriam borrowed fourdollars. She asked after you and said----" Bea hesitated, smitten withnovel doubt that she ought to begin to think three times before speakingonce where such a sensitive person was concerned.

  Lila sat up in swift attention and winked away her tears. "Said what?"

  "Oh, nothing much." Bea wriggled. "Just talking."

  "I insist."

  "Oh, well, it doesn't signify. I was only thinking----" Bea paused againbefore blurting out. "She said that roommates are good for thecharacter."

  At this Lila rose with such an air of patient endurance that poor Beafelt clumsy, remorseful, injured and perplexed simultaneously. A cloud ofresentful silence hovered over them both through the weary hours of theafternoon. Not until the ten o'clock gong sent the echoes booming throughthe deserted corridors, did Lila break down in a storm of weeping thatterrified Bea. She found herself begging pardon, apologizing, caressing,explaining and repenting wholesale of rudeness about the desk, of selfishneglect in the case of the books, of disloyalty in giving ear to MissMerriam's gratuitous comments. This gale blew over, leaving one girl withdarker circles under her eyes and a more pathetic droop at the corners ofher mouth, leaving the other with a fellow feeling for any unfortunatebull who happens to get into a china shop, intentionally or otherwise.Life at college promised to be like walking over exceedingly thin iceevery day and all day long.

  And yet, after she had learned to make allowances for theoversensitiveness, Bea found Lila more lovable and winning week by week.She was philosopher enough to recognize the fact that every one has the"defects of his qualities." The very quality that sent Lila hurryingup-stairs in an agony of mortification because a senior had forgotten tobow to her, was the one that inclined her to enter into Bea's varyingmoods with exquisite responsiveness. It was delightful to have a friendwho was ever ready to answer gayety with gayety and sober thoughts withsympathy. Indeed, when Lila was not wrapped up in her own suffering, shecould not be surpassed in the priceless gift of sympathy. For the sake ofthat, much might be forgiven.

  Much but not everything. Just before the midyear examinations came acrisis in the growth of their friendship. One afternoon Lila reached thehead of the stairs barely in time to make a sudden swerve out of MissMerriam's breezy path.

  "Heigho, Eliza Allan," she called in careless teasing, "why don't youspell your name the way it is in the catalogue? More dignified, I think.By the way, I've been into your room and left some burned cork for yourchapter play. We had more than we needed last night. By-bye."

  Lila walked on in frosty silence. By-bye, indeed! And to address her asEliza, too, on this very afternoon when she had as much as she could bearanyhow. To hear her essay read aloud and criticised before the class, andthen to have it handed to her across the desk, so that anybody could seethe awful REWRITE in red ink scrawled on the outside! To be sure, all theessays had been distributed at the same time, and nobody knew for surethat hers had been the one read aloud. Still they might have seen thename on it or noticed how red and pale she turned, or something. Andworse still, the examinations were coming soon, and she was sure shewould fail. If it were not for leaving Bea, she would go home that night.She certainly would!

/>   As she entered, Bea looked up brightly from the cardboard which she wascutting into squares.

  "Here you are!" she exclaimed in cheery greeting, though her eyes hadshadowed instantly at sight of the unhappy drooping of every line. "SueMerriam has been in to show me how to make you up for the play nextmonth. It takes quite an artistic touch to darken the brows and touch upthe lashes. Catch these corks and put them away. They're messing up mydinner-cards."

  Lila's shoulders quivered as if pricked by a spur even while shemechanically caught the bits of black and fumbled them in her fingers.

  "She meant that my brows are too thin and my lashes too light. I wouldthank her to keep her criticism until it is called for."

  For half a minute Bea kept her head down while her chest heaved over asigh of weary anticipation. Then she turned with an affectionate query:"What has happened now, Lila? Tell me, dear."

  Upon hearing about the affair of the essay, she expostulated consolingly,"Of course that is no disgrace. She is severe with all the girls, tearstheir essays into strips and empties the red ink over them. She doesn'tmean it personally, you know. How can we learn anything if nobodycorrects our mistakes? Anyway it was an honor to have it read aloud. Verylikely the girls did not see the REWRITE. She never bothers much with theutterly hopeless papers. Come, cheer up! The red ink was a compliment."

  "Do you really think so?" Lila smiled a little doubtfully. "It soundslike one of the sophists--'to make the worse appear the better reason.'I'd love to believe it, and you are sweet to me." She laid one armcaressingly across Bea's shoulders. "It is queer that I don't mind morewhen you scold me so outrageously."

  "Scold you?" repeated the other in amazement at such a description of hersoothing speech.

  Lila nodded. "I never stood it from anybody else. Maybe it is because youare my special dearest friend. That is why I came to college, you know.At home the girls disappointed me. There were several in the high schoolwho might have been my friends if they had been different from what theywere. Ena Brownell and I were inseparable for weeks till one morning shewent off with another girl instead of waiting for me on the corner,though I had telephoned that I would meet her there. Even if I was a fewminutes late, she would have waited if she had really cared. I criedmyself to sleep every night for a long time but I never forgave her."

  "Um-m-m," muttered Bea, her head again bent over the cardboard, "howhorrid! See, isn't this a lovely daisy I'm drawing? They're to be dinnercards for my next spread. This is for your place."

  "It's sweet. I think you are the most talented girl in the class." Lilastooped for a hug but carefully so as not to interfere with the growth ofthe silvery petals. "There was another girl, and her name was Daisy. Sheseemed perfect till I discovered that she prized her own vanity morehighly than my happiness. She refused to take gym work the third hourwhen I was obliged to have it. She said the shower bath spoiled the wavein her hair, and so she chose the sixth hour class. Yet she knew verywell that I had Latin at that period. I don't care for that selfish kindof friendship, do you?"

  "Um-m, no!" Bea's brush dropped an impatient splash of yellow in theheart of the flower. Then she glanced up with a penitent smile.

  "You're so awfully loyal yourself, Lila," she said. "You try to measureeverybody up to that standard. I shan't forget that day in hygiene whenyou declined to answer the question that floored me. It was like thatpoem about the girl who wouldn't spell a word that the boy had missed,because she hated to go above him. And at the tennis tournament youwouldn't leave till I had finished the match, though you shivered andshook in the frosty October air. You do a lot for me, and I am downrightashamed sometimes. See, behold the completed posy!"

  "It is too pretty for a mere dinner card." Lila dropped into a rattanchair and idly tossed the corks from hand to hand. "Aren't you planning along time ahead? Your family knows exactly what to send in a box. Thatlast was the most delicious thing! I suppose we'll just ask our crowd offreshmen, Berta and Gertrude and the rest."

  Lila's eyes were so intent upon the dancing corks that she failed to notethe swift glance which Bea darted in her direction.

  "Um-m-m," she said cautiously, "I think I might like an upper class girlor two. Some of them have been awfully kind to me this year. Sue Merriamescorted me to the first Hall Play, and she proposed our names for Alpha,and on her birthday she asked me to sit at her table and meet someseniors as an invited guest. She said the "invited" with such a thump onit that my heart almost broke. Isn't she the greatest tease?"

  No answer.

  "It was mostly due to her that I came to college," continued Bea with aneffort to speak naturally though her fingers shook the least bit in theirgrasp of the brush, and one anxious eye was watching Lila's face. "I'veknown her all my life. She persuaded the family to send me, and shetutored me last summer and helped in a million different ways. You don'tunderstand how much I owe her. It is such a little thing to invite her tomy--to our party. I'd love to do it, Lila."

  Still no answer. The silence lengthened out minute after minute. FinallyBea ventured to raise her head and hold up another card for inspection."See, a new daisy, but this one has a different disposition. Do youobserve the expression--sort of grinning and cheerful? This is like Sue,while the first one is like you, an earnest young person, not one bitimpudent. See it, lady. The dearest flower-face. I love it."

  "And yet"--Lila's voice sounded choked, "you want to invite her to theparty. You know it will spoil my pleasure. You--know--I--hate--her."

  Bea's frame trembled once in a nervous shiver. Her fascinated eyesfollowed Lila to the window, where she stood staring out at the dazzlingwinter world of snow.

  "You must choose between Susan Merriam and me. I have a right to demandit. I have a right. I have a right."

  Bea saw Lila lift her arm as if to brush away the tears. Then one handfumbled for her handkerchief, while the other squeezed the burned corkswith unconscious force. She was certainly wiping her eyes.

  "You must--you must--choose to-day--between Susan Merriam and me. If youchoose her, I shall never speak to you again. If you choose me, you musthave nothing to do with her. Nothing! You must drop her acquaintance. Youcannot have both."

  Bea suddenly tipped back in her chair, teetered to and fro for a franticmoment, then brought it down with a bump on all four feet.

  "Nonsense!" she snapped.

  Lila stood motionless so long that Bea had time to notice the ticking ofher watch. Then she turned slowly around from the window.

  "And this is friendsh----"

  LILA STOOD STARING OUT AT THE SNOW]

  "Oh!" squealed Bea, "oh, oh, oh! Ha, ha, ha!" Flinging her arms outover the desk she buried her face upon them and shook withuncontrollable laughter.

  Lila crimsoned to her hair, then went white with anger. Without a wordshe walked into her own room and locked the door.

  Half an hour later when she rose from the bed and began to pour out abasinful of water to bathe her smarting eyes, she heard a rustle on thethreshold. Glancing quickly around she saw a square of white paper beingthrust beneath the door. It was a letter from home on the five o'clockmail. Lila picked it up and opened it listlessly. The fit of weeping hadleft her exhausted.

  "My darling daughter," she read,

  "This is a hasty note to say that your great aunt Sarah is on her wayeast, and will stop at the college for a day's visit with you. I wish tocaution you, dear girl, against even the semblance of a slight in yourtreatment of her. Do not forget to inquire after Gyp the terrier, Rex theangora cat, Dandy the parrot, and Ellen the maid. Your aunt isexceedingly sensitive about such small attentions. You might invite yourfriends to meet her at afternoon tea, and if you can manage it tactfullyyou might warn them not to discuss topics with which she is unacquainted.She has, as you know, a very peculiar disposition. The least suspicion ofneglect or hint of criticism exasperates her beyond endurance. In herchildhood she suffered continually because of this oversensitive nature.I suspect that she made no effort to conquer the faul
t. Indeed so far asI may judge from her present attitude, she has always considered it aproof of superior delicacy and refinement. She has cherished herselfishness instead of fighting it. As a consequence her life has beenembittered and unspeakably lonely. I believe that she has not a friend onearth except her pets, and even Gyp has learned not to frisk with joy atsight of anybody but his mistress.

  "I am sure I may trust you, dear, to make her visit as happy as possible,although in truth it seems irony to speak of real happiness in connectionwith such a temperament. You may not be aware that even your Aunt Sarahwas once the heroine of a romance. He was an extraordinarily fine man, andshe would have found happiness with him, if with anybody. But one day inthe rush of an important law-suit, he forgot to keep an engagement withher, and she never forgave the slight. After that disappointment--and itwas a grievous disappointment, however self-inflicted--especially grievousto such an expert in self-torture--her nature grew rapidly and steadilymore self-absorbed and unlovely.

  "My darling little daughter, sometimes I have feared that you may haveinherited a similar tendency. It has been difficult, dearest, to guidearight where even the slightest word of criticism stings and burns andlashes. You, more than many girls, need the discipline of wisest,frankest friendship with others of your own age. I see that during yourhigh school days I did wrong in trying to supply their place to you withmy own companionship. A child, however precious, cannot be forever keptwrapped in cotton-wool.

  "So, dearest daughter, you will understand how joyful I am this year inhearing of your new friends. Don't let them slip away through any faultof yours. Whatever is worth winning is worth keeping, even at the cost ofmany a sacrifice of foolish pride.

  "When you see your aunt, be sure to remember me to her.

  "With a heart full of love, "Mother."

  Lila read the letter, replaced it in the envelope, and walking across thelittle room threw herself again face downward on the bed. After a whilethe dressing-gong whirred its tidings through the corridors. Lila slid toher feet and began to walk mechanically toward the mirror.

  "But Bea laughed. She laughed at me. Mother doesn't know that Bealaughed. And I thought she was my friend." Lila felt another sob cometearing up toward her throat and clenched her teeth in the struggle tochoke it back. Blinded by a rush of fresh tears, she opened the topdrawer of the bureau and felt for her brush with groping fingers.

  "She laughed right in my face. I--I--could have forgiven everythingelse. But--but mother doesn't know that Bea in-insulted me.She--laughed--right--in--my----"

  Then through the blur Lila happened to catch sight of her reflection inthe looking-glass. The last sob broke off sheer in the middle, and lefther with her lips still parted in an unfinished quiver.

  The horrified face that stared back at her from the mirror was stripedand rayed with startling streaks of black. The astonished eyes shone outfrom white circles framed in ebony sunbursts; the nose was like an isletwashed by jetty waves; the mouth slowly widened under a fiercely upcurvedline of inky hue.

  In the study on the other side of the door, remorseful Bea was wearingseveral paths in their best rug, as she waited for some sign. Suddenly anew sound welled up and she bent her head to listen, in quick dread ofanother storm of weeping. But, no! This was different. It was not a sob,though it did seem rather gaspy. It bubbled and chuckled. It waslaughter.

  "Lila!" cried Bea, and made a dash toward the room. Lila flung open thedoor.

  "Bea!" she answered, "I am going to give a tea for my Aunt Sarah. Do youthink Sue Merriam will come if I invite her?"