Grace Harlowe's Second Year at Overton College Part 3

"We played together and went to each other's houses, but we were never very chummy," explained Grace. "We were both too headstrong and too fond of our own way to be close friends. It was after we entered high school that we began to find out that we liked each other, wasn't it, Miriam?"

"Yes," returned Miriam, looking affectionately at her friend. In two sentences Grace had effectually bridged a yawning gap in Miriam's early high school days of which the latter was heartily ashamed.

"Every one has told a tale but Ruth," declared Elfreda. "Now, Ruth, what have you to say for yourself?"

"Not much," said Ruth, shaking her head. "So far, my life has been too gray to warrant recording. That is, up to the time I came to Overton,"

she added, smiling gratefully on the little circle. "My freshman year was a very happy one, thanks to you girls."

"But when you were a child you must have had a few good times that stand out in your memory," persisted Elfreda.

Ruth's face took on a hunted expression. Her mouth set in hard lines.

"No," she said shortly. "There was nothing worth remembering. Perhaps I'll tell you some day, but not now. Please don't think me hateful and disobliging, but I don't wish to talk of myself."

Arline Thayer eyed Ruth with displeasure. "I don't see why you should say that, Ruth. We have all talked of ourselves," she said coldly.

Ruth flushed deeply. She felt the note of censure in Arline's voice.

"I think we had better go," announced Grace, consulting her watch. "It is now half-past seven. We ought to be at Wayne Hall by eight o'clock.

You know the Herculean labor I have before me."

"Herculean labor is a good name for our coming task," chuckled Anne.

"The Anarchist will make Wayne Hall resound with her vengeful cries when she is thrust out of the room with all her possessions."

Jesting light-heartedly over the coming encounter, the diners strolled out of Vinton's and down College Street in the direction of the campus.

Arline was the first to leave them. Her good night to the four girls from Wayne Hall was cordial in the extreme, but to Ruth she was almost distant. A little later on they said good night to Ruth, who looked ready to cry.

"Cheer up," comforted Grace, who was walking with Ruth. "Arline will be all right to-morrow."

"I hope so," responded Ruth mournfully. "I did not mean to make her angry, only there are some things of which I cannot speak to any one."

"I understand," rejoined Grace, wondering what Ruth's secret cross was.

"Good night, Ruth."

Elfreda, Miriam and Anne bade Ruth goodnight in turn.

"Now, for the tug of war," declared Elfreda as they hurried up the steps of Wayne Hall. "On to the battlefield and down with the Anarchist!"

CHAPTER III

MRS. ELWOOD TO THE RESCUE

As Grace approached the curtained archway that divided the living-room from the hall she could not help wis.h.i.+ng that she might have settled the affair without Mrs. Elwood's a.s.sistance. She was not afraid to approach Mrs. Elwood, who was the soul of good nature, but Grace disliked the idea of the scene that she felt sure would follow. The young woman now occupying the room that she and Anne had re-engaged for their soph.o.m.ore year would contest their right to occupy it. Mrs. Elwood would be obliged to set her foot down firmly. It would all be extremely disagreeable. Grace reflected. Then the memory of the Anarchist's glaring incivility returned, and without further hesitation Grace walked into the living-room, followed by her companions.

Mrs. Elwood, who was sitting in her favorite chair reading a magazine, looked up absently, then, staring incredulously at the newcomers, trotted across the room, both hands outstretched in welcome. "Why, Miss Harlowe and Miss Nesbit, I had given you up for to-night. Here are Miss Pierson and Miss Briggs, too. I'm so glad to see you. When did you arrive? I thought there was no train from the north before nine o'clock."

"Didn't Miss Dean tell you we had arrived?" asked Grace, as Mrs. Elwood shook hands in turn with each girl.

"I haven't seen Miss Dean. She went out before I came home," replied Mrs. Elwood.

"Wait until we catch the faithless Emma," threatened Anne. "She promised to be our herald. We arrived here at a little after five o'clock. We did not stay here long, for Miss Thayer, of Morton House, invited us to dinner at Vinton's."

"How do you like the way I fixed your room this year?" asked Mrs.

Elwood.

"We haven't been in it yet," answered Grace. "That is, we went only as far as the door."

"Oh, then you must see it at once," said Mrs. Elwood briskly. "I have had it repapered. There is a new rug on the floor, too, and I have put a new Morris chair in and taken out one of the cane-seated chairs."

"No wonder the Anarchist refuses to vacate," muttered Elfreda.

"What did you say, my dear?" remarked Mrs. Elwood amiably.

"Oh, I was just talking nonsense," averred Elfreda solemnly.

"I won't keep you girls out of your rooms any longer. I know you must be tired from your long journey. Come upstairs at once."

Mrs. Elwood had already crossed the room and was out in the hall, her foot on the first step of the stairs. The girls exchanged glances. There was a half smothered chuckle from Elfreda, then Grace hurried after their good-natured landlady. "Wait a minute, Mrs. Elwood," began Grace, "I have something to tell you before you go upstairs. This afternoon, when we arrived, we went directly to our rooms. The door of our room was locked, however. We knocked repeatedly, and it was at last opened by a young woman who said the room was hers and refused to allow us to enter it."

During this brief recital Mrs. Elwood looked first amazed, then incredulous. Her final expression was one of lively displeasure, and with the exclamation, "I might have known it!" she marched upstairs with the air of a grenadier, the girls filing in her wake. Pausing before the door she listened intently. The sound of some one moving within could be heard distinctly. Mrs. Elwood rapped sharply on the door. The footsteps halted; after a few seconds the sound began again.

"She thinks we have come back," whispered Elfreda.

"So we have," smiled Grace, "with reinforcements."

Her smile was reflected on the faces of her friends. Mrs. Elwood, however, did not smile. Two red spots burned high on her cheeks, her little blue eyes snapped. Again she knocked, this time accompanying the action with: "Open this door, instantly. Mrs. Elwood wishes to speak with you."

"Do not imagine that you can gain entrance to this room through any such pretense," announced a contemptuous voice from the other side of the door. "I believe I stated that I did not wish to be disturbed."

"And I state that you must open the door," commanded Mrs. Elwood. "You are not addressing one of the students. This is Mrs. Elwood."

A grating of the key in the lock followed, then the door was cautiously opened far enough to allow a scowling head to be thrust out. The instant the Anarchist's narrowed eyes rested on Mrs. Elwood her belligerent manner changed. She swung the door wide, remarking in cold apology; "Pray, pardon me, Mrs. Elwood. I believed that a number of rude, ill-bred young women whom I had the misfortune to encounter earlier in the day were renewing their attempts to annoy me."

"There are no such young women at Wayne Hall," retorted Mrs. Elwood, who was thoroughly angry. "The majority of the young women here were with me last year, and not one of them answers your description. Really, Miss Atkins, you must know that you are trespa.s.sing. This room belongs to Miss Harlowe and Miss Pierson. It was theirs last year and they arranged with me last June to occupy it again during their soph.o.m.ore year. How you happened to be here is more than I can say. I believe I gave you the room at the end of the hall."

"The room to which you a.s.signed me did not meet with my approval," was the calm reply. "I prefer this room."

"You can't have it," returned Mrs. Elwood decisively.

"But I insist upon remaining where I am," persisted the intruder. "If necessary, I will allow Miss Harlowe or her roommate to occupy the other half of the room."

"I have told you that you can not have the room," exclaimed Mrs. Elwood, eyeing her obstinate antagonist with growing disfavor. "If you do not wish to take the room at the end of the hall, then I have nothing else in the house to offer you. No doubt you can find board to suit you in some other house."

"I wish to stay here," returned the Anarchist stubbornly. "Let Miss Harlowe have the room at the end of the hall."

Sheer exasperation held Mrs. Elwood silent for a moment. The Anarchist peered defiantly at her from under her bushy eyebrows. She made no move toward vacating the room of which she had so coolly taken possession.