CHAPTER IV
THE BELATED FRESHMAN
"The first thing I shall do this morning after breakfast is to unpack,"announced Grace Harlowe with decision, as she gave her hair a last patpreparatory to going downstairs to breakfast. "Last year I was soexcited over what studies I intended to take and meeting new girls thatI unpacked by fits and starts. It was weeks before I knew where to findthings. But I've reformed, now. I'm going to put every last article inplace before I set foot outside Wayne Hall. Do you wish the chiffonieror the bureau this year, Anne, for your things?"
"The chiffonier, I think," replied Anne, after due reflection. "Ihaven't as much to stow away as you have. It will do nicely for me."
"There goes the breakfast bell!" exclaimed Grace. "Come along, Anne, I'mhungry. Besides, I'd like the same seat at the table that I had lastyear."
Outside their door they were joined by Miriam and Elfreda, and the fourfriends stopped to talk before going downstairs.
"Were you haunted by nightmares in which glowering Anarchists prancedabout?" asked Miriam, her eyes twinkling.
"No," replied Grace. "I slept too soundly even to dream."
"I dreamed that I went into the registrar's office to get my chapelcard," began Elfreda impressively. "When she handed it to me it wasthree times larger than the others. On it in big red letters wasprinted, 'The Anarchist, Her Card.' I thought I handed it back to herand tried to explain that I wasn't an anarchist because I had neitherbushy eyebrows nor a scowl. She just sat and glared at me, saying overand over, 'Look in your mirror, look in your mirror,' until I grew soangry I threw the card at her. It hit her and she fell backward. Thatfrightened me, although it seemed so strange that a little, light pieceof pasteboard could strike with such force. I tried to lift her, but shegrew heavier and heavier. Then--"
"Yes, 'then,'" interposed Miriam, "I awoke in time to save myself fromlanding on the floor with a thump. Elfreda mistook me for the registrar.She was walking in her sleep."
"Of course I didn't mean to," apologized Elfreda, "You know that, don'tyou, Miriam? I can't help walking in my sleep. I've done it ever since Iwas a little girl."
"I forgive you, but you must promise not to dream," laughed Miriam."Otherwise I am likely to find myself out the window or being droppedgently downstairs while you dream gaily on, regardless of what happensto your long-suffering roommate."
As they entered the dining room several girls already seated at thetable welcomed them with joyful salutations. It was at least ten minutesbefore any one settled down to breakfast. Grace observed with secretrelief that Miss Atkins was not at the table. The three freshmen whowere to fill the last available places in Wayne Hall had not yetarrived. During breakfast a ceaseless stream of merry chatter flowed on.Everyone wished to tell her neighbor about her vacation, of what sheintended to take during the fall term, or of how impossible it was toget hold of her trunk. Then there was the usual amount of wondering asto why the four freshmen hadn't appeared.
"One of them is here--that is, she's in the house," remarked Elfredalaconically.
"She is!" exclaimed Emma Dean, opening her eyes. "I didn't see heryesterday."
"You were consoling your homesick cousin, so how could you know whatwent on here?" reminded Grace. It had been decided that nothing shouldbe said regarding the events of the previous day.
"So I was," said Emma. "She made me think of Longfellow's 'Rainy Day.'She looked so 'dark and dreary.'"
"What a unique comparison," chirped a wide-awake sophomore. "That willbe so appropriate for the freshman grind book."
"It is our turn this year," exulted Elfreda. "I shall be on the lookoutfor good material, too. I know one freshman who will be a candidate forhonors."
"Who?" inquired Emma Dean curiously.
Grace looked appealingly at the stout girl. A slight shake of the headreassured her. Elfreda abandoned her intention of mentioning names, andparried Emma's question so cleverly that the latter became interested insomething else and forgot that she had asked it.
The instant she had finished her breakfast, Grace reannounced herintention of unpacking her trunk and rose to leave the table. Annefollowed her, a curious smile on her face. The majority of the girlsrose from the table at the same time, or immediately after, and wenttheir various ways.
"Now," declared Grace energetically, "I am going to begin my labor."
"What did you say you were going to do?" asked Anne innocently.
"Unpack my trunk. I--why--I--haven't any trunk to unpack!" exclaimedGrace in bewilderment. Then catching sight of Anne's mirthful face, shesprang forward, caught Anne by the shoulders and shook her playfully."Anne Pierson, you bad child, you heard me make all my plans forunpacking, yet you wouldn't remind me that my trunk was still at thestation."
"I couldn't resist keeping still and allowing you to plan," confessedAnne. "What a joke that would be for the grind book!"
"Yes, wouldn't it though?" agreed Grace sarcastically. "However, we arenot freshmen, and as my roommate I strictly forbid you to publish mystupidity broadcast. Having the unpacking fever in my veins, I shallconsole myself with unpacking my bag and suit case. I'll keep on wishingfor my trunk and perhaps it will come." Grace walked to the window. Sheleaned out, peering anxiously down the road. Then, with a cry ofdelight, she exclaimed: "Come here, Anne."
Anne walked obediently to the window.
"'Tell me, Sister Anne, do you see anything?'" quoted Grace.
"You are saved, Fatima," returned Anne dramatically. "It is an expresswagon."
Grace darted out of her door and down the stairs, meeting the expressmanon the veranda, her trunk on his shoulder. Anne, having notified Elfredaand Miriam that the trunks had arrived, went downstairs to look afterhers.
"Now I can carry out my plan, after all," declared Grace, with greatsatisfaction. "'He who laughs last, laughs best,' you know," she addedslyly.
"Before unpacking, first find your trunk," retorted Anne.
"Thank goodness, we don't have to think about entrance examinations thisyear," said Grace, as she knelt before her trunk, fitting the key to thelock.
"Yes, it does make considerable difference," returned Anne. "We shallhave more time to ourselves. Besides, we won't have to worry our headsoff the first week about whether we survived or perished."
The sound of an automobile horn caused Grace to run to the window. "It'sthe bus!" she cried. "Three strange girls are getting out of it.Evidently our freshmen have arrived. That tall girl looks interesting.One of them is as stout as Elfreda. The little girl is cunning. I thinkI like her the best of the three. Oh dear!" she exclaimed ruefully,hastily drawing back from the window, "she looked straight up and saw mestanding here. What will she think of me?"
"You shouldn't be so curious," teased Anne.
"I know it," admitted Grace. "I'm not over curious as a rule. I hope thetall girl is to room with the Anarchist. She looks capable of keepingher in order."
"That task will, no doubt, be handed over to you," said Anne, who hadbeen making rapid progress in unpacking, while Grace had been occupiedin looking over the newcomers. "You'd better get your unpacking done, sothat you'll be ready for it--the task, I mean."
Grace sat down before her trunk with a little impatient sigh. For thespace of an hour the two girls worked rapidly, almost in silence. Bothtrunks had been emptied and the greater part of their contents storedaway when the sound of an angry, protesting voice outside the doorcaused them to look at each other wonderingly.
"What can have happened?" asked Anne.
Even as Anne spoke a never-to-be-forgotten voice said impressively,"What you prefer is immaterial to me, I prefer to room alone." Theemphatic closing of a door followed. There was a sound of hurryingfootsteps on the stairs, then all was still.