Grace Harlowe's Second Year at Overton College Part 19

"How can we manage to deliver this stuff without being seen?" demanded Arline. "My arms ache already, and we haven't walked a block."

Grace set down her bundle on a convenient horse block and paused to consider. Arline dropped hers beside it with a sigh of relief. "I know what we can do," said Grace reflectively. "We can get Mr. Symes to go with us. He is that old man who does errands and takes messages for ever so many of the girls. We will go with him as far as the corner, then he can carry the things to the door and give them to the woman who owns the boarding house. He lives just around the corner from here. You stay here and watch the bundles and I will see if I can find him."

Grace found Mr. Symes at home and quite willing to carry out the final detail of the Christmas plan. The old man was duly sworn to secrecy and entered into the spirit of his errand almost as heartily as did Arline and Grace. At the chosen corner the girls halted, repeated their final instructions, and drawing back into the shadow, left him to deliver the two bulky packages, his wrinkled face wreathed in smiles.

He smiled even more broadly on his return to the watchers, as Grace slipped a crisp green note into his hand and wished him a Merry Christmas.

"Now we ought to do a little celebrating on our own account," she proposed. "Suppose we pay a visit to Vinton's. It isn't too cold for ices."

"That is just what I was thinking," agreed Arline.

An hour later Arline and Grace said good-bye on the corner below Wayne Hall. "I won't see you in the morning at the station, Grace," said Arline regretfully. "My train leaves a whole hour later than yours. I hope you will have a perfectly lovely Christmas. I hope eight other girls will, too. Don't you?"

"You're a dear little Daffydowndilly," smiled Grace as she kissed Arline's upturned face. "I am sure they will, and they have you to thank for their pleasure, though they will never know it."

CHAPTER XVIII

MRS. GRAY'S CHRISTMAS CHILDREN

"If this isn't like old times, then nothing ever will be!" exclaimed David Nesbit, beaming on Anne Pierson, who was busy pouring tea for the "Eight Originals" in Mrs. Gray's comfortable library.

"Old times!" exclaimed Hippy Wingate, accepting his teacup with a flourish that threatened to send its contents into the lap of Nora O'Malley, who sat beside him on the big leather davenport. "It takes me back to the days when I had only to lift my hand and say, 'Table, prepare thyself,' and some one of these fair damsels immediately invited me to a banquet. Gone are the days when I waxed fat and prosperous. Now I am thin and pale, a victim of adversity."

"I think you look stouter than ever," declared Nora cruelly. "You say you have lost ten pounds, but--" she shrugged her shoulders significantly.

"Cruel, cruel," moaned Hippy. "It is sad to see such calloused inhumanity in one so young. Pa.s.s me the cakes, Anne, the chocolate covered ones. They, at least, will afford me sweet consolation."

"I object," interposed Reddy Brooks. "Don't give him that plate. Hand him one or two, Anne. I like the looks of those cakes, too."

"Man, do you mean to insinuate that I am not what I seem?" demanded Hippy, glaring belligerently at Reddy.

"No, I am stating plainly that you are exactly what you seem. That's why I am looking out for my share of the cakes."

"Always prompted by selfish motives," deplored Hippy. "How thankful I am that the sweet blossom of unselfishness blooms freely in my heart. It is true that I would eat all the cakes on that plate, but from a purely unselfish motive."

"Let's hear the motive," jeered Tom Gray.

"I would eat them all," replied Hippy gently, favoring the company with one of his famously wide smiles, "to save you, my beloved friends, from indigestion. It is better that I should bear your suffering."

"Thank you," retorted David Nesbit dryly, helping himself to the coveted cakes and pa.s.sing the plate over Hippy's head to Mrs. Gray, "I prefer to do my own suffering."

"Oh, as you like," returned Hippy airily. "I have always been fonder of Mrs. Gray than I can say." He sidled ingratiatingly toward where Mrs.

Gray sat, her cheeks pink with the excitement of having her Christmas children with her.

From the time Grace, Miriam and Anne stepped off the train into the waiting arms of their dear ones, their vacation had been a season of continued rejoicing. Mrs. Gray, who, Tom gravely declared, would celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday next April, was tireless in her efforts to make their brief stay in Oakdale a happy one. On Christmas night she had gathered them in and given them a dinner and a tree. She had also given a luncheon in honor of Anne and a large party on New Year's night. It was now the evening after New Year's and the morning train would take the boys back to college. Grace, Miriam and Anne would leave a day later for Overton. Nora and Jessica were to remain in Oakdale until the following week. It seemed only natural that they should spend their last evening together at the home of their old friend. Outside the "Eight Originals," Miriam had been the only one invited to this last intimate gathering.

"Now, Hippy, stick to the truth," commanded Mrs. Gray, shaking her finger at him, but handing him the plate at the same time. Hippy swooped down upon it with a gurgle of delight.

"It's the truth. I swear it," he declared, holding up one fat hand in which he clutched a cake.

"What made you give him the plate, Aunt Rose?" asked Tom reproachfully.

"Bless you, child, there are plenty of cakes. Let Hippy have as many as he can eat."

"Vindicated," chuckled Hippy, between cakes, "and given full possession besides."

"I wouldn't be so greedy," sniffed Nora O'Malley.

"I'm so glad. I dislike greedy little girls," retorted Hippy patronizingly.

"Stop squabbling," interposed Grace. "Here we are on the eve of separation and yet you two are bickering as energetically as when you first caught sight of each other two weeks ago. Did you ever agree on any subject?"

"Let me see," said Hippy. "Did we, Nora?"

"Never," replied Nora emphatically.

"Then, let's begin now," suggested Hippy hopefully. "If you will agree always to agree with me I will agree--"

"Thank you, but I can't imagine myself as ever being so foolish,"

interrupted Nora loftily.

"She spoke the truth," said Hippy sadly. "We never can agree. It is better that we should part. Will you think of me, when I am gone? That is the burning question. Will you, won't you, can you, can't you remember me?" He beamed sentimentally on Nora, who beamed on him in return, at the same time making almost imperceptible signs to Grace to capture the plate of cakes, of which Hippy was still in possession. In his efforts to be impressive, Hippy had, for the moment, forgotten the cakes. But he was not to be caught napping. The instant Grace made a sly movement toward the plate it was whisked from under her fingers.

"Naughty, naughty, mustn't touch!" he exclaimed, eyeing Grace reprovingly.

"Let him alone, girls, and come over here," broke in David Nesbit. "He only does these things to make himself the center of attraction. He wants all the attention."

"Ha," jeered Hippy exultantly. "David thinks that crus.h.i.+ng remark will fill me with such overwhelming shame that I shall drop the cakes and retire to a distant corner. He little knows what manner of man I am. I will defend my rights until not a vestige of doubt remains as to who is who in Oakdale."

"There is not a vestige of doubt in my mind as to what will happen in about ten seconds if certain people don't mend their ways," threatened Reddy, rising from his chair, determination in his eye.

"Take the cakes, Grace," entreated Hippy, hastily shoving the plate into Grace's hand. "Nora, protect me. Don't let him get me. Please, mister, I haven't any cakes. I gave them all to a poor, miserable beggar who--"

"Here, Reddy, you may have them," broke in Grace decisively. "It is bad enough to have an unpleasant duty thrust upon one, but to be called names!"

"I never did, never," protested Hippy. "It was a mere figure of speech.

Didn't you ever hear of one?"

"Not that kind, and you can't have the cakes, again," said Jessica firmly. "Give them to me, Grace."

"Jessica always helps Reddy," grumbled Hippy. "Now, if Nora would only stand up for me, we could manage this whole organization with one hand.

She is such a splendid fighter--"

"I'll never speak to you again, Hippy Wingate," declared Nora, turning her back on him with a final air of dismissal.