Grace Harlowe's Third Year at Overton College Part 13

Arline shrugged her dainty shoulders. "I don't know. Perhaps she will never repeat what she has heard. Curiosity alone may have prompted her to listen. We may be agreeably disappointed."

Grace shook her head. "I wish I could believe that," she said. "I don't wish to croak, but I have a curious conviction that the person who listened had a motive deeper than mere curiosity."

CHAPTER XV

A TISSUE PAPER TEA

"What in the name of all mysterious is going on between you and Alice-In-Wonderland Daffydowndilly Thayer?" demanded Elfreda Briggs as she lovingly wrapped a large pasteboard box in white tissue paper and tied it with a huge bow of scarlet satin ribbon. "This is Miriam's present," she drawled calmly. "You will observe that she has obligingly turned her back while I am engaged in wrestling with wrapping it. I never could tie a bow. I have had this box in the closet for a week, and it has fallen out every time we opened the door, but Miriam, beloved angel, hasn't shown the slightest curiosity. You may look, my dear, the big box is all put away," she declared, as though addressing a very small child.

"What a ridiculous person you are, J. Elfreda Briggs," laughed Miriam.

"One might think me at the kindergarten age, instead of your guardian and keeper."

"Tell me what it is, Elfreda," teased Grace.

"On one condition," answered Elfreda, reaching for a small square box and beginning to wrap it in holly paper. "Tell me what you and Arline are planning!"

"It's a secret," returned Grace. "I'd love to tell you, but I am pledged until the day we go home. When we are all in the train and it has started on the home stretch then you shall know."

"There is no time like the present," invited Elfreda.

"No," laughed Grace, shaking her head. "Not now. I have given my promise to Arline."

"She won't tell even me," smiled Anne Pierson, who, with Grace, had carried her Christmas gifts to Miriam's and Elfreda's room, in answer to Elfreda's invitation to a tissue paper tea. "Bring all your stuff,"

Elfreda directed. "There will be plenty of paper and ribbon and twine and tea and cakes if I have time to go for them." Cheered with the prospect of tea and cakes, which were a certainty in spite of Elfreda's provisional promise, the two guests had come, their arms full of bundles.

"Well, if she won't tell _you_, the rest of us might as well save our breath," declared Elfreda. "Never mind, we have only two more days to wait. Oh, aren't you glad you're going home? I have been homesick for the last three days. I'm glad we are going to stay in Fairview and have an old-fas.h.i.+oned Christmas. I am going to drive to the woods and cut down my own Christmas tree, too."

"That reminds me, Miriam, we must make up a party and go to Upton Wood to see old Jean. We didn't see him last summer on account of his being away up in northwestern Canada. He went as a guide. Don't you remember?

In Mother's last letter she wrote that he had been seen in Oakdale. That means that he has come back to his cabin in Upton Wood."

"Hurrah!" exclaimed Miriam, waving a long, narrow package over her head.

"That means a winter picnic, and supper at old Jean's cabin."

"Who is old Jean?" asked Elfreda curiously.

"Come down to Oakdale between Christmas and New Year and go with us on the picnic," teased Miriam. "You can see old Jean for yourself."

"Can't do it," responded Elfreda. "I am strictly Pa's and Ma's girl this time. I've promised."

"Then I suppose I shall have to enlighten you," smiled Grace. "Jean is an old Frenchman, a hunter who drifted down to Oakdale from somewhere in Canada. He has a log cabin in Upton Wood, a forest just east of Oakdale.

To him I owe the beautiful set of fox furs, you have so often admired.

He had the skins dressed for me, and Mother sent them to a furrier's in New York and had them made into a m.u.f.f and scarf for me. I have known him since I was a little girl."

"Lucky you," commented Elfreda. "There, I've finished my packages. I'm going out to buy cakes. You have worked n.o.bly. This Sat.u.r.day afternoon, at least, has been well spent, thanks to my tissue paper tea. Now we'll have real tea." Piling her smaller packages into a neat heap, she made a dive for her long brown coat and fur cap. "Don't dare to touch one of those packages. You might guess what is in them. Good-bye. I'll be back before you know it."

As the door closed after her with a resounding bang, Miriam remarked affectionately: "Elfreda is in her element. She loves to play hostess and give tea parties."

"She is becoming one of the important girls in college, isn't she?"

observed Anne. "I was so glad to see her rushed by the Phi Beta Gammas."

"She was more moved than she would admit over being asked to join them,"

returned Miriam. "She used to make ridiculous remarks about them and call them the P. B. Gammas, but in her heart she looked upon them with positive awe. Wasn't it nice to think we were all asked?"

"I should say so," agreed Grace. "It would have been dreadful if one of us had been left out." She patted her sorority pin with intense satisfaction. "In spite of belonging to the most important sorority in college, there never will be another sorority like the Phi Sigma Tau, will there, girls?"

"No," said Miriam, smiling with a reminiscent tenderness at sound of the familiar name.

"Dear old P. S. T.," murmured Anne. "How I wish we might call a meeting now and have every member present."

"There is bound to be one vacant place when we gather home next week,"

said Grace a trifle sadly.

"The Lady Eleanor," sighed Miriam. "I hope we'll see her some time next year."

The arrival of Elfreda, her arms filled with bundles, cut short Miriam's reflections. One by one Elfreda calmly laid down her packages and began preparations for her tissue paper tea. The stout girl's mood seemed to have changed, however. She answered her companions' gay sallies rather abstractedly, with the air of one whose thoughts were anywhere but on her guests. Several times Grace glanced up to find Elfreda's eyes fixed reflectively upon her.

When, at five o'clock, she announced her intention of going for a walk before dinner, Elfreda gave her another peculiar look and announced her intention of accompanying her. Anne and Miriam, who had elected to occupy the time before dinner in writing to the Southards, declined Grace's invitation, and as the two girls walked briskly down the street, Elfreda breathed a deep sigh of relief. "With all due respect to Miriam and Anne, I am glad they didn't join us," she said coolly.

"What is on your mind now?" asked Grace shrewdly.

"So you realize at last that there is something on my mind, do you!"

retorted Elfreda grimly. "I began to think you never could. I made all kinds of signals to you with my eyes."

"I thought they were signals, but wasn't sure," said Grace quickly.

"Well, you can be sure now. I don't want you to think me a Paul Pry, but I know all about that Christmas business last year."

"What 'Christmas business'?" asked Grace sharply.

"You know very well what I mean, the eight girls and all that."

"Why--who----" began Grace in displeased astonishment.

"No, I didn't try to find out," interrupted Elfreda. "You know me better than that. No one told me, either. I just put two and two together. I could see last year that----"

"Is there anything you can't see?" exclaimed Grace.

"Not much," responded Elfreda modestly. "I knew, of course, you would do something for those girls this year."

"You could see that, I suppose," said Grace satirically.

"Exactly," nodded Elfreda with an irresistible grin. Their eyes meeting, both girls laughed. Elfreda's face sobered first. "My news isn't pleasant, Grace. Read this." Slipping her hand into her coat pocket she drew forth a half sheet of paper partly covered with writing. Grace received it wonderingly:

"Two Overton College Girls Play Lady Bountiful to Their Needy Cla.s.smates," she read. The words were arranged to form headlines, and below was written: "The latest whim of two wealthy students of Overton College has taken the form of Sweet Charity, and impecunious students of Overton whose finances will not permit of their making long railway journeys home for Christmas are to be the object of these young women's solicitude. Their less fortunate cla.s.smates will be their guests at a dinner on Christmas which by special arrangement will be served at----" The writing ended with the bottom of the sheet.