CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE AUCTION.
The next day Darsie and Hannah were interviewed by their severalcoaches, male and female, received instructions as to their future work,and had the excitement of witnessing the return of the second and thirdyear girls, whose manner was strikingly different from that of themodest Freshers. Dinner that evening was more of an ordeal than ever,with a galaxy of such assured, not to say aggressive, young women,staring with all their eyes at their new companions, and, to judge fromthe expressions on their faces, forming the meanest opinion of theirintelligence!
Hannah Vernon was of all the Freshers the least upset by their scrutiny,but then plain Hannah was proverbially thick-skinned about the opinionof others.
"Let 'em stare if it amuses 'em--_I_ don't mind! Long time since I'vebeen so much admired," she returned composedly to Darsie's indignantwhisper. "Every dog has its day. Wait till it's _our_ turn! I'll wearspecs for that day--if I never do again, and glare over them like ourfriend in green. I've been taking notes, and her glare is worth all therest put together. I feel sure she sees into my pocket, and knowsexactly how much there is in my purse. Perhaps she's jealous of you.You're the prettiest girl here--old or new!"
"Oh, am I? _Nice_!" cried Darsie, dimpling. She peered around thetables, examining the faces of the girls within sight with an appraisingeye, compared them with the reflection which looked back at her out ofher own mirror, and felt an agreeable sense of conviction. There wasone slim, dark-eyed girl with a bright rose flush on her cheeks, as towhose claim she felt a moment's uncertainty, but when she turned herhead--lo, a nose was revealed soaring so unbecomingly skyward thatDarsie breathed again. Yes! she was the prettiest. Now if she couldjust manage to be the most popular also, and, not the cleverest, ofcourse--that was _too_ much to expect--but well in the front rank, howagreeable it would be, to be sure!
The dining-hall looked much more cheery tonight, when the long table wassurrounded by over sixty students in their brightly coloured dresses;the buzz of conversation rose steadily throughout the meal, and by thetime that coffee was served curiosity seemed satisfied, for the staringhad come to an end.
"I think you must be Dan Vernon's sister. May I introduce myself? I amHelen Ross." A tall girl, with brown hair brushed low over her ears,stood beside Hannah's chair, holding out her hand with an air ofassurance which plainly intimated that the mention of her name wasexpected to arouse instant recognition. Hannah, who had never heard itbefore, and was not skilled in the art of pretence, stared back in blanksurprise.
"Oh-h! Really? Yes, I'm Hannah Vernon. This is my friend MissGarnett."
Helen Ross nicked her eyelashes at Darsie by way of a bow, but bestowedno spoken greeting.
"Rather beastly, the first day, isn't it?" she drawled, turning toHannah once more. "Feel such a pelican in the wilderness, wanderingabout, not knowing what to be after next. Make me useful, do! I'd liketo be useful. Told your brother I'd show you the ropes. Did you getyour milk last night? Half a pint each is your allowance. You get itfrom the pantry directly after dinner, and take it upstairs for cocoa.Have you discovered your gyp-room yet?"
Hannah stolidly shook her head, whereupon Miss Ross proceeded to furtherexplanations. The gyp-room was a species of pantry, one of which was tobe found on each corridor, whence cups, saucers, and other utensils forthe preparation of the famous ten o'clock "cocoas" could be obtained.You helped yourself, don't you know, and you took the things back whenyou had done with them, but you didn't wash them up. The gyp-room owneda presiding dignitary of its own who was known as the "gyp-woman," whoobligingly performed that service. Then Miss Ross expressed a wish tosee Hannah's room, and the three girls ascended the stairs together, andthe two Freshers stood by meekly while the two-year girl indulged incandid criticism.
"Humph! Not so bad. Rather a barn at present, but it'll look all rightwhen you've fixed it up. Always takes a few days to settle down, butone lives in one's room so much that it's worth taking pains. You canget no end into the coffin, that's one blessing!"
"Coffin!" Hannah and Darsie jerked at the ominous word, whereupon MissRoss smiled with complacent superiority.
"Ah! of course, you don't know that name. The chest's the `coffin,' andyou keep hats in it, likewise odd boxes, and evening cloaks, and otherperishable splendours. Every one calls them coffins, so you'll have toget used to it, I'm afraid; and the bureau's a `burry,' and the screen'sa `farce,' and a topply one at that. You'll have to buy another to takeits place. They never _do_ supply you with decent screens. By the way,there's an auction on to-night! Did any one tell you? That's yourchance of picking up the things you want. It's held in the Gym. at teno'clock, and is not bad fun. I'll come along and take you, if you'dcare to go."
"Thanks. Yes, I'd like to see everything that's going on. What sort ofthings are for sale?"
"All sorts of discards that have been left behind by other girls--screens, bed-covers, curtains, china flower-pots, chairs, kettles,pictures. Sometimes there's quite a fine show."
"Sounds attractive! And who is the auctioneer?"
"A second-year girl--the one who is credited with the greatest amount ofwit."
There was a moment's silence while the two Freshers each mentally leapeda year ahead, and saw herself in this proud and enviable position.
"Who's the one to-night?"
"Margaret France." Miss Ross's lips curled expressively. "I hope youwon't judge us by her standard. She's certainly not the one whom _I_should have chosen to fill the position!"
Silence again, while the Freshers reflected that they knew very wellwhom Miss Helen Ross would have chosen if she had had the chance, andwere glad that she hadn't.
"Well, I'll call round about ten. Make up your fire, and becomfortable. You're allowed a scuttle of coals a day, and let me warnyou to _use_ it! If it's not all burnt, keep a few lumps in aconvenient cache--a box under the bed will do. It comes in handy foranother day, and when it gets really cold you can stoke up at night andhave a fire to dress by in the morning. The authorities don't approveof that--they say it's bad for the stoves. Personally I consider myselfbefore any stoves."
She nodded casually and strode from the room, leaving the two friendsdivided between gratitude for her kindness and prejudice against herpersonality.
"Don't like her a bit, do you?"
"Humph. So-so! Means well, I think. Wonder how she knows Dan? Henever mentioned her name."
"Not at _all_ the sort of girl Dan would care for! Such a bumptiousmanner. A good many of them have, I observe. Fearfully self-possessed.Perhaps it's a special effort to impress the Freshers. She didn't takemuch notice of me, but I'm coming with you all the same to buy fixingsfor my room, and hear the second-year auctioneer. Call for me whenyou're ready, like a dear. I'm off now to read until ten o'clock."
Darsie shut herself in her room, and set to work at her burry with allthe ardour of a beginner, so that the hour and a half passed like aflash, and it seemed as if she had scarcely begun before Hannah's solidbang sounded at the door, and she went out into the corridor to followHelen Ross to the Gym.
The auction had already begun, and the auctioneer, a fresh-looking girlwith grey eyes planted extraordinarily far apart, was engaged inextolling the excellencies of an aged kettle to a laughing circle ofgirls. She wore a black dress cut square at the neck, and a rose-coloured ribbon twined round her head. She held out the kettle at thelength of a bare white arm, and raised her clear voice in delightfulimitation of the professional wheedle.
"Friends and Freshers! We now come to Lot Three, one of the moststriking and interesting on the catalogue. A kettle, ladies, is alwaysa useful article, but this is no ordinary kettle. We have it onunimpeachable authority that this kettle was the kettle in residence atthe establishment of our late colleague Miss Constantia Lawson, theSenior Classic of her year! The kettle of a Senior Classic, Freshers!The kettle which has ministered to her refreshment, which has be
en, inthe language of the poem, the fount of her inspiration! What priceshall I say, ladies, for the kettle of a Senior Classic? Sixpence! Didsomebody say sixpence! _For the kettle of a Senior Classic_!Eightpence! Thank you, madam. For the kettle of a-- What advance oneightpence? Freshers would do well to consider this opportunity beforeit is too late. What an--an _inebriating_ effect, if I may use the wordwithout offence to the late lamented poet, would be added to the cupthat cheers by the thought that the same handle, the same spout, thesame--er--er--furry deposit in the inside, have ministered to therefreshment of one of the master spirits of our day! Going ateightpence--eightpence-halfpenny--I thank you, madam! At tenpence! Noadvance on tenpence? Going--going--_gone_!"
The hammer descended with a rap, the auctioneer leaned back with an airof exhaustion, and handed the kettle to her clerk, in blue silk andcrystal beads.
"Lady to the right. Tell the lady, Joshua, that the small hole in thebottom can easily be soldered by an obliging ironmonger, or, if sheprefers, she can hang the kettle on the wall as an object of vertu!"
Peals of laughter greeted this tragic disclosure. The lady to the rightrefused for some minutes to hand over her tenpence, but finallysuccumbed to the feeling of the meeting, when a crumpled cotton bed-cover was next produced for sale.
"Lot Four. Handsome Oriental bedspread--design of peacocks, vultures,and pear-trees, in gorgeous colourings. Encircling border on abackground of blizzard white, and corner pieces complete. Eight feet bythree. Joshua! carry the bedspread round and allow the ladies toexamine it for themselves. It is excessively hurtful to our feelingswhen purchasers imply that deception has been practised in order toinduce them to purchase our goods. Show the ladies the spread! Purecotton, ladies. Fast colours. Design by Alma Tadema, in his happiestmood. You could not possibly purchase such a spread in anyestablishment, ladies, under the sum of two-and-six. Fine Orientalgoods, warranted to impart an air of opulence to the humblest bedstead.Any Fresher wishing to give the last touch of costly elegance to herroom should not neglect this opportunity. What am I to say, ladies, forthis handsome spread? Sixpence again! Thank you, madam! Sixpencesseem in the ascendant to-night. Let us hope the collections on Sundaynext will benefit from the ensuing dearth. Ninepence! _At_ ninepence.Pardon, madam? The lady in the eyeglasses wishes to make a remark,Joshua. The lady in the eyeglasses remarks that one side of the spreadhas been torn. The lady is evidently unaware that that fact is a proofpositive of the authenticity of the spread. No Eastern article, as alltravellers are aware, is _ever_ even at both sides." Another burst oflaughter greeted this point. The auctioneer showed her pretty whiteteeth in a complacent smile, her wide grey eyes roved round the room,and met Darsie's eyes raised to her in beaming admiration.
"One-and-six did you say, madam?" she cried instantly. "Did Iunderstand you to say one-and-six? The opportunity will never occuragain. At one-and-six for the lady in violet. Take the name andaddress if you please, Joshua." And Darsie, with a shrug and a laugh,paid out her one-and-six, and received in return the blizzard-whitecover, ornamented with a roughly mended tear all along one side.
The next articles offered for sale were framed pictures of various sizeswhich had evidently not been considered worth the trouble of removing.Water-colour sketches by 'prentice hands, faded photographs, or pretty-pretty prints evidently torn from the pages of magazines. Theauctioneer exerted all the blandishments to induce the Freshers topurchase these masterpieces, and deplored their scant response withpathetic reproaches.
"_No_ bids for this tasty little picture? Ladies, ladies, this is agreat mistake! In the midst of your arduous brain toil, what could bemore soothing and refreshing than to gaze upon this charming pastoralscene? This azure earth, this verdant sky, this lovely maid whocombined in her person all the simpering charms of youth, and never, forone misguided moment, troubled her ochre head over the acquirement ofthat higher knowledge which, as we all know, is the proud prerogative ofman! What price shall I say for `The Maiden's Dream'? _No_ bids! Putit down if you please, Joshua. We have no art collectors with us to-night. Let me have the Botticelli for a change."
The clerk in blue silk handed up another picture in a rickety Oxfordframe, at which the auctioneer gazed rapturously for several momentsbefore turning it towards her audience.
"Number Six on the catalogue. Genuine photograph of a Botticelli fromthe collection of Miss Eva Dalgleish. Attention, Freshers, if youplease! This is an item of serious importance. The presence of aBotticelli bestows at once the air of culture and refinement withoutwhich no study is worthy of the name. A genuine photograph of aBotticelli, purchased by the owner in the Italian city of Florence, andborne home by her own fair hands, as the crack across the corner willgive proof. In an Oxford frame--a compliment to our sister University--glazed and complete, with hanging loops and fragment of wire. _What_offers for the Botticelli? Any Fresher who wishes to prove herselfendowed with refined and artistic--One shilling? Thank you, madam._And_ sixpence! One and nine. One and nine for this genuineBotticelli. Ladies, ladies, this is a sad day for Newnham. And nine--and nine. Going. Going--_gone_!"
It was Hannah who had testified to her own artistic qualities bypurchasing this photograph. She tucked it proudly under her arm, andturned an envious eye on a brass flower-pot which was now engaging theauctioneer's attention. A simultaneous movement of the audience showedthat this was an article on which many hopes had been set, and biddingpromised to be brisk.
"Now, ladies, we come to one of the principal events of the evening, thebidding for this very rich and magnificent brass, hand-beaten, richly-chased, Oriental, ornamental flower-pot. We have several flower-pots inour catalogue, but none to be compared for one moment to the verysuperior article which you now see before you. It is safe to say thatno student, even in her third year, can boast of a flower-pot to equalthis lot in either quality or design. The possession of it will initself ensure fame for its fortunate owner. Let me have a handsome bid,if you please, ladies, to start this valuable article. Half a crown!!!A lady, whose ignorance we can only deplore, offers me half a crown fora genuine antique brass! I am thankful that in such a large andenlightened audience such an error is not likely to be repeated. Threeshillings. _Thank_ you, madam. And six. Four shillings--fourshillings. Freshers who neglect to take advantage of this opportunitywill be compelled to content themselves with one of these common chinaarticles to my left. A flowerpot is a necessary article of furniturewithout which no room is complete. What is home without an aspidistra?You laugh, ladies, but you can find no answer to that question. Andsix! Five shillings! The raw material for this masterpiece must havecost many times this sum. Five--five--no advance on five. The lady ingreen, Joshua. Take the lady's address!"
The auctioneer put up her hand to her head and patted the rose-colouredribbon into place. Inspired by the laughing appreciation of hersallies, her cheeks had flushed to the same bright shade, and with hersparkling eyes and alert, graceful movements she made a delightful andattractive figure, at which the Freshers stared in undisguised delight.
"I adore her!" whispered Darsie in her friend's ear.
"Decent sort!" croaked Hannah the undemonstrative, and then by a commonimpulse their glance passed on to rest on Helen Ross's set, superciliousface.
"I loathe her," came the second whisper.
"Mean thing--jealousy!" croaked Hannah once more, and turned herattention to the business in hand.
After the china flower-pots had been disposed of, a trio of basket-chairs gave an impetus to the bidding, as the truth of the auctioneer'swords went home to every heart.
"`Three luxurious basket-chairs, cushioned complete in handsomecretonne, stuffed pure wool. Condition--as new.' Ladies, in thesebasket-chairs you see not only elegant articles of furniture, but asolution of the dilemma which dogs every owner of a one-comfortable-chair study. One question haunts her waking and sleeping hours; oneproblem embitters the most social occasions--`_Sh
all I be comfortable orpolite_?' To this question, in this college of Newnham, there can,ladies, be but one reply--and the wretched hostess sits on the coal-boxand gives her visitor the chair. After long hours of mental toil, afterthe physical strain of the hockey-field, a quiet hour is vouchsafedbeside her own fireside, with the companionship of a beloved friend tosoothe and cheer, and that hour, ladies--that precious hour--I say itwith emotion almost too strong for words--that stolen hour of peace andrest must needs be passed--_on the coal-box_! Ladies, I need say nomore. The remedy is in your own hands."
So on, and so on. After the chairs came curtains; after the curtains,bookcases, ornaments, and books. The auction flowed on, punctuated byexplosions of laughter, until the last item on the "catalogue" wasreached, and the auctioneer was crimson with exhaustion.
Darsie and Hannah had amassed between them quite a stock of furnishings.A screen apiece, chairs, Oriental window-curtains in stripes ofcontrasting colours warm and comfortable to look upon, flower-pots, andodd pictures and ornaments. One felt a proprietor, indeed, as onelooked over the spoils, and the inroads into capital had been agreeablysmall. Darsie was folding up her damaged "spread" when a voice spoke inher ear, and with a little jump of the heart she looked up to findMargaret France standing by her side.
"How do you do? I must thank you for your patronage. You chipped innobly. Hope you'll like 'em, when you've got 'em. Just up, aren't you?What's your shop?"
For a moment Darsie stared blankly, then a flash of intuition revealedthe meaning of the word.
"Modern languages."
"Good! So'm I. And your friend?"
"Mathematics."
"Humph! Well, good luck! I'm off to bed. We shall meet on theRialto!"
She smiled, nodded, and was gone. With a sudden realisation of theirown fatigue the Freshers turned to follow her example. Helen Rossjoined them on their way along the corridors, and Darsie could notresist expressing her appreciation of the auctioneer's wit.
"She was delicious. I _have_ enjoyed it. She _is_ amusing and clever."
"Think so?" said Helen coolly. "Really? Glad you were pleased. It'susually _far_ better than that!"
With a curt good-night she turned into her own room, and the two friendsmade haste to follow her example.
The banked-up fires burned warm and red; the scattered oddments had beenhidden from sight in the "coffin's" rapacious maw; photographs andknick-knacks gave a homy look to the rooms which had looked so bare andbleak twenty-four hours before. The Freshers tumbled into bed and fellhappily asleep.