CHAPTER XV.
PLANNING AND WISHING.
"Mrs. Anna Oldham, the famous suffragette, will speak in the gymnasiumon Saturday afternoon, at four o'clock, on 'Woman's Suffrage.' All thoseinterested in this subject are invited to be present."
Molly and Judy, with a crowd of friends, on the way from one classroomto another one busy Friday had paused in front of the bulletin board inthe main corridor.
"Mrs. Anna Oldham?" they repeated, trying to remember where they hadheard the name before.
"Why, Judy," whispered Molly, "that must be Nance's mother. Do you--doyou suppose Nance knows?"
"If she does, she has never mentioned it. You know she never tellsanything. She's a perfect clam. But this, somehow, is different."
Both girls thought of their own mothers immediately. Surely they wouldhave shouted aloud such news as Nance had.
"Shall we mention it to her, or do you think we'd better wait and lether introduce the subject?" asked Molly.
"Surely she corresponds with her own mother," exclaimed Judy withoutanswering Molly's question.
"Her father writes to her about once a week, I know; but I don't thinkshe hears very often from Mrs. Oldham. You see, her mother's away mostof the time lecturing."
"Lecturing--fiddlesticks!" cried Judy indignantly. "What kind of amother is she, I'd like to know? I'll bet you anything Nance doesn'tknow at all she's going to be here. I think we ought to tell her,Molly."
"Poor Nance," answered Molly. "I don't know which would mortify hermost: to know or not to know. Suppose we find out in some tactfulroundabout way whether she knows, and then I'll offer to go in with youSaturday night and give her mother my bed."
Judy cordially consented to this arrangement, having a three-quarter bedin her small room, although secretly she was not fond of sharing it andpreferred both her bed and her room to herself.
It was not until much later in the day that they saw Nance, who appearedto be radiantly and buoyantly happy. Her usually quiet face was aglowwith a soft light, and as she passed her two friends she waved a letterat them gayly.
"You see, she knows and she is delighted," exclaimed Judy. "Just as wewould be. Oh, Molly, wait until you see my mother, if you want to meet athing of beauty and a joy forever. You'd think I was her mother insteadof her being mine, she is so little and sweet and dainty."
Molly laughed.
"Isn't she coming up soon? I'd dearly love to meet her."
"I'm afraid not. You know papa is always flying off on trips and mammagoes with him everywhere. I used to, too, before I decided to beeducated. It was awfully exciting. We often got ready on a day'snotice to go thousands of miles, to San Francisco or Alaska or Mexico,anywhere. Papa is exactly like me, or, rather, I am exactly like him,only he is a hundred times better looking and more fascinating andcharming than I can ever hope to be."
"You funny child," exclaimed Molly; "how do you know you are not allthose things right now?"
"I know I'm not," sighed Judy. "Papa is brilliant, and not a bit lazy.He works all the time."
"So would you if you only wanted to. You only choose to be lazy. If Ihad your mind and opportunities there is no end to what I would do."
Judy looked at her in surprise.
"Why, Molly, do you think I have any mind?" she asked.
"One of the best in the freshman class," answered her friend. "But look,here are some letters!"
She paused in the hall of Queen's Cottage to look over a pile of mailwhich had been brought that afternoon.
There were several letters for the girls; Judy's bi-weeklies from bothher parents, who wrote to her assiduously, and Molly's numerous homeepistles from her sisters and mother. But there were two, one for eachof the girls, with the Exmoor postmark on them.
Molly opened hers first.
"Oh, Judy," she exclaimed, "do you remember that nice Exmoor Sophomorenamed 'Upton?' He wants to come over Saturday afternoon to call and gowalking. Dodo has probably written the same thing to you. I see you havean Exmoor letter."
"He has," answered Judy, perusing her note. "He wishes the honor of mycompany for a short walk. Evidently they don't think we have manyengagements since they don't give us time to answer their notes."
"Judy!"
"Molly!"
The two girls looked at each other for a brief moment and then brokeinto a laugh.
"Nance's letter must have been from one of the others, Andy McLean,perhaps, that was why she was so----"
Judy paused. Somehow, it didn't seem very kind to imply that poor Nancewas elated over her first beau.
"Dear, sweet old Nance!" cried Molly, her heart warming to her friend."She will probably have them by the dozens some of these days."
"I'm sure I should camp on her trail if I were a man," said Judyloyally. "But, Molly," she added, laughing again, "what are we to doabout old Mrs. Oldham?"
"Oh, dear! I hadn't thought of that. And poor Nance would have enjoyedthe walk so much more than a learned discourse on woman's rights."
Just before supper time Nance burst into the room. She was humming awaltz tune; her cheeks looked flushed, and she went briskly over to themirror and glanced at her image quickly, while she took off her tam andsweater.
The girls had never seen her looking so pretty. They waited for her tomention the note, but she talked of other things until Judy, alwaysimpatient to force events, exclaimed:
"What was that note you were waving at us this afternoon, Nance?"
"Oh, that was from----"
A tap on the door interrupted her and Margaret Wakefield entered.
"Oh, Nance," she cried, "I am so excited over your mother's coming tospeak at college to-morrow afternoon. Isn't it fine of her? It's MissBowles, Professor in Advanced Math., who is bringing her, you know, ofcourse?"
Except that her face turned perfectly white, Nance showed no signwhatever that she had received a staggering blow, but her two friendsfelt for her deeply and Molly came to her rescue.
"By the way, Nance, dearest," she said, "I thought you might want tohave your mother with you to-morrow night, and I was going to offer youmy bed and turn in with Judy."
"Thanks, Molly," answered Nance, huskily; "that would be nice."
Very little ever escaped the alert eyes of Margaret Wakefield; but ifshe noticed anything strange in Nance's manner, she made no commentwhatever. She was a fine girl, full of sympathy and understanding, witha certain well-bred dignity of manner that is seldom seen in a younggirl.
"It will be quite a gala event at Queen's if Mrs. Oldham eats supperhere," she said gently; "but no doubt she will be claimed by some of thefaculty." Then she slipped quietly out of the room, just in time, forquiet, self-contained Nance burst suddenly into a storm of weeping andflung herself on the bed.
"And she never even took the trouble to tell me," she sobbed brokenly."She has probably forgotten that I am even going to Wellington."
It was a difficult moment for Molly and Judy. Would it be more tactfulto slip out of the room or to try and comfort Nance? After all, she hadhad very little sympathy in her life, and sympathy was what she cravedand love, too, Molly felt sure of this, and with an instinct strongerthan reason, she slipped down beside her friend on the couch and put herarms around her.
"Darling, sweetest Nance," she cried, "I am sure the message will come.Perhaps she'll telegraph, and they will telephone from the village. Judyand I love you so dearly, it breaks our hearts to see you cry like this.Doesn't it, Judy?"
"Indeed, it does," answered Judy, who was kneeling at the side of thecouch with her cheek against Nance's hand.
It was a comfort to Nance to realize that she had gained the friendshipand affection of these two loving, warm-hearted girls. Never in her lifehad she met any girls like them, and presently the bitterness in herheart began to melt away.
"Perhaps she will telegraph," she said, drying her eyes. "It was sillyof me to take on so, but, you see, I had a little shock--I'm all rightnow. You're dears, both of you."
> Judy went into her own room and returned in a moment with a large bottleof German cologne. Filling the stationary wash basin with cold water shepoured in a liberal quantity of the cologne.
"Now, dearest Nance," she said, "bathe your face in that, and thenpowder with Molly's pink rice powder, and all will be as if it never hadbeen," she added, smiling.
The others smiled, too. Somehow, Nance's outburst had done her more goodthan harm. For the first time in her life she had been coddled andsympathized with and petted. It was almost worth while to have sufferedto have gained such rewards. After all, there were some pleasant thingsin life. For instance, the note which had come to her that afternoonfrom young Andy McLean, son of Dr. McLean, the college physician. Tothink that she, "the little gray mouse," as her father had often calledher, had inspired any one with a desire to see her again. It was almostimpossible to believe, but there was the young Scotchman's note torefute all contrary arguments.
"DEAR MISS OLDHAM," it said, in a good, round handwriting, "I have been wanting so much to see you again since our jolly day at Exmoor. I am bringing some fellows over on Saturday to supper at my father's. If you should happen to be in about four o'clock, may I call? How about a walk before supper? I can't tell you how disappointed I'll be if you have another engagement.
"Yours sincerely, "ANDREW MCLEAN, 2D."
Of course, she would have to give up the walk now, but it was pleasantto have been remembered and perhaps he would come again.
That night at supper Nance was unusually bright and talkative. Sheanswered all the many questions concerning her famous mother so easilyand pleasantly that even Margaret Wakefield must have been deceived.
The two sophomores at Queen's were giving a dance that evening, andwhile the girls sat in the long sitting room waiting for the guests toarrive, Judy took occasion to whisper to Molly:
"Why should she have to appear at the lecture, anyhow?"
"Because it would be disrespectful not to," answered Molly. "She must bethere, of course. Would you go gallivanting off with a young man if yourmother was going to give a lecture here?"
"I should say not; but that's different."
"No, no," persisted Molly; "it's never different when it's your mother,even when she doesn't behave like one. Can't you see that Nance wouldrather die than have people know that her mother isn't exactly likeother mothers?"
The next day was one of the busiest in the week for Molly. Two of hermorning hours she spent coaching Judy in Latin. Then there were her lacecollars to be done up, her stockings to be darned; a trip to be madeto the library, where she stood in line for more than twenty minuteswaiting for a certain volume of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and spentmore than an hour extracting notes on "Norse Mythology." It was well ontoward lunch time when she finally hastened across the campus to Queen'sto fill some orders for "cloud-bursts," which were intended to be partof the refreshments for certain Saturday evening suppers.
So weary was she and so intent on getting through in what she called"schedule time," that she almost ran into Professor Edwin Green beforeshe even recognized him.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," she exclaimed, a wave of color sweeping overher pale face.
"Why are you hurrying so fast on Saturday?" he asked pleasantly. "Don'tyou ever give yourself a holiday?"
"Oh, yes; lots of them," she answered; "but I'm a little rushed to-daywith some extra duties."
She thought of the "cloud-bursts," which must be made and packed inboxes by the afternoon.
"You are overdoing it, Miss Brown. You are not obeying the doctor'sorders. When I see you there to-night I shall confront you in hispresence with the charge of disobedience."
"There to-night?" repeated Molly.
"Certainly. Have you forgotten about the supper to-night?"
"But I'm not invited."
"Oh, yes, you are," answered the Professor, with a knowing smile."You'll probably find the note waiting for you. And you must be sure andcome, because the McLean's are real characters. They will interest you,I am sure."
"Poor Nance," was Molly's first thought. And her second thought was: "Ifher mother is invited out to dine, she can accept." Her face brightenedat this, and without knowing it, she smiled.
Molly led such a busy, concentrated life, that when she did relax for afew moments, she sometimes seemed absent-minded and inattentive. TheProfessor was looking at her closely.
"You are pleased at being asked to the McLean's?" he said.
"I was thinking of something else," she said. "I was wondering if, afterall, Nance couldn't arrange to go. Of course, she'll be invited, too;but, you see, her mother is to be here."
"Is Mrs. Oldham, the Suffragette, her mother?" he asked in surprise.
"Yes."
"Mrs. Oldham is to dine at the President's to-night. I know, because Iwas asked to meet her, but"--he looked at her very hard indeed--"I hadanother engagement."
"Then Nance can go. Isn't it beautiful? I am so glad!" Molly clasped herhands joyously.
Professor Green gave her such a beautiful, beaming smile that it fairlytransfigured his face.
"You are a very good friend, Miss Brown," he said gently; "but wouldnot Miss Oldham rather be with her mother, that is, in case thePresident should invite her, too, which is highly probable?"
"Oh, I hope she won't. You see, Nance has never had much pleasure withyoung people, and"--it was difficult to explain--"and her mother----"she hesitated.
"Her mother, being the most famous clubwoman in America, hasn't spentmuch time at home? Is that it?"
"Well, yes," admitted Molly. "In fact, she hardly remembers she has adaughter," she added indignantly, and then bit her lip, feeling that shewas bordering on disloyalty.
The Professor cleared his throat and thrust his hands into his pockets.He was really very boyish-looking to be so old.
"So you have set your heart on Miss Oldham's going to the supperto-night?" he said gravely.
"If there is any fun going, Judy and I would be sorry to have her missit," she answered. "And I don't suppose it would be thrilling to dine atthe President's with a lot of learned older people."
"I'm just on my way to President Walker's now," pursued the Professorthoughtfully. "In fact, I was just about to deliver my regrets inperson regarding dinner to-night, and having some business to attendto with Miss Walker, I thought I would call. While I am there, it ispossible--well, in fact, Miss Brown, there should be a good fairyprovided by Providence to grant all unselfish wishes. She would not bea busy fairy by any means, I am afraid, except when she hovered aroundyou. Good morning," and lifting his hat, the Professor hastened away,leaving Molly in a state of half-pleased perplexity.
On the table in her room she found a note from Mrs. McLean, inviting herto supper that evening. Two other invitations from the same lady werehanded to Nance and Judy, but Nance was at that moment seated at herdesk accepting an invitation from Miss Walker to dine there with hermother at seven. She was writing the answer very carefully and slowly,in her best handwriting, and on her best monogram note paper.
"Do you think that's good enough?" she demanded, handing the note toMolly to read.
"Why, yes," answered Molly, looking it over hastily while she preparedto write her own answer to Mrs. McLean, and then she threw herself intothe business of "cloud-bursts."
Just as the lunch gong sounded, Bridget, the Irish waitress at PresidentWalker's house, appeared at their half-open door.
"A note for Miss Oldham," she said; "and the President says no answer isnecessary. Good afternoon, ma'am; they'll be waitin' lunch if I don'tmake haste."
"'MY DEAR MISS OLDHAM,'" Nance read aloud. "'I have just learned that you are invited to a young people's supper party to-night at Mrs. McLean's, and I therefore hasten to release you from your engagement to dine with me. Your mother will spare you, I am sure, on this one evening, and I hope you will enjoy yourself with your friends. With kinde
st regards, believe me,
"'Cordially yours, "'EMMA K. WALKER.'"
"Isn't she a brick?" cried Judy, dancing around the room and clappingher hands.
"It was awfully nice of her," said Nance thoughtfully. "I wonder howshe knew I was invited to the McLean's?"
"Some good fairy must have told her," answered Molly, half to herself,as she stirred brown sugar into a saucepan.