CHAPTER IV
AN AFTERNOON CALL
PRISCILLA sat at her little dressing table, studying her reflection inthe mirror with an absorbed intentness which would have impressed nineobservers out of ten as a naive exhibition of vanity. This verdict,however, would have been most unfair. Though many people consideredPriscilla a really handsome girl, she had always been inclined to beunduly modest regarding her personal appearance. Her present scrutinywas solely for the purpose of discovering the blemish which she wassure must be apparent to all beholders.
For a girl of her age, Priscilla had thought very little about theopposite sex. Her devotion to Peggy had been a sufficient outlet forher sentiment, while her contempt for those girls who could think andtalk of nothing but the "boys" had, perhaps, led her to go needlesslyfar in the opposite direction. The youths who had fluttered mothlikeabout the tall, graceful girl had met such a baffling indifference thatthey had transferred their attentions to some more responsive luminary,while Priscilla went on her way unruffled.
But this year things were different. The four Friendly Terrace chumswere no longer sufficient to themselves. Peggy was engaged. SinceNelson Hallowell's return from the service, he had been a very frequentcaller at Ruth's home. And on one or two occasions when Priscilla hadrun over to Amy's in the evening, she had found one of the porch chairsoccupied by Robert Carey. Priscilla began to have a feeling of beingleft out, new in her experience and most unpleasant. She wondered whatthere was about her to differentiate her from other girls. She studiedher reflection, dreading yet half expecting to see some flaw whichwould inevitably repel the beholder.
On this particular afternoon as Priscilla faced herself in the glassand tried to discover the defects that kept admirers at a distance,affairs had reached a crisis. The University Field Day had long been athrilling occasion to many of the young people of the city, not merelybecause of their interest in the various events, but because it wascustomary for each of the young fellows who attended to ask some girlto accompany him. Priscilla had taken it for granted that Peggy wouldgo with Graham, and was not surprised to learn that Nelson had beenpromised the pleasure of Ruth's company on the important occasion. Butwhen she had suggested to Amy that they should go together, and Amyafter a moment's hesitation had replied, "Why, the fact is, Priscilla,Bob Carey has asked me to go with him," Priscilla was conscious of adistinct shock. Her subsequent dejection had nothing to do with theprospect of missing Field Day. But when she asked herself if she werereally the least attractive girl in the world, she could see no escapefrom an affirmative answer.
It was while she sat there, heavy-hearted and vaguely resentful, thatthe maid brought up a card, one of those small, inobtrusive slips ofcardboard which proclaim the modesty of the socially inclined male.Priscilla took it, impressed in spite of herself. Though she was oldenough to have become accustomed to such little conventions, the lifeof a college girl is so necessarily informal that few people who cameto see Priscilla announced their presence in this fashion. And this wasthe first time a young man had sent up his card to Priscilla.
"Mr. Horace Endicott Hitchcock," read Priscilla, and if the truth betold, she was conscious of an undefined disappointment. She had knownHorace Hitchcock for a dozen years, ever since a smug little boy ina velvet suit, he had attended the children's parties which were herearliest social dissipations. As he was about three years older thanPriscilla she had admired him extremely in those days when the velvetsuit was much in evidence. But her attitude had altered long before shehad considered herself too old to play dolls.
Horace's boyhood had been a trying period. He had never had a boyfriend, the lads of his own age agreeing with contemptuous unanimitythat he was a "sissy." Perhaps for the same reason, the girls had foundhim as little appealing. But as he neared his majority, Horace hadblossomed into a belated popularity. He was somewhat effeminate as faras his appearance went. He talked very rapidly, and used more gesturesthan is customary with young Americans. Horace dressed in excellenttaste, and was somewhat of an authority on shirts and ties and mattersequally important. Although he was supposed to be an insurancesolicitor, he was never too occupied to attend any social affair atany hour of the day, and this gave him an advantage over the young menwho were on duty till five o'clock or later. Priscilla had seen verylittle of him since she had entered college, and now as she looked athis card she only wondered if he had come to ask her to play for someentertainment.
Priscilla gave a last dissatisfied glance at her reflection in theglass, captured a stray lock with a hairpin, and went downstairs.Sensible girl as she was, she found herself impressed by Horace'sgreeting. He bowed very low over her hand, like the hero of a pictureplay, and drew up a chair for her with great elegance of manner. To agirl suffering from lack of proper self-esteem, his air of deferencewas peculiarly soothing. Yet even then, it never occurred to Priscillathat this was a social call. She listened to Horace's voluble talk,made such replies as seemed necessary, noted approvingly the perfectfit of his light suit, and the fact that his tie matched his silksocks, and waited patiently for him to come to the point.
Something like twenty minutes had passed when Priscilla reached arealizing sense of the situation. All at once, while Horace wasdescribing minutely the country house where he had spent the previousweek-end, Priscilla gave a little start and colored high. It had justdawned upon her that Horace had not come upon any utilitarian errand,that he was there for the sole purpose of seeing her. It took her alittle time to adjust herself to the novel idea, and if Horace hadasked her a point-blank question during the interval, she would nothave known whether to answer yes or no, for she had not the least ideawhat he was talking about.
Then Priscilla waked up. She exerted herself to be charming. Shetalked almost as fluently as Horace himself. She laughed delightedlyat his little jests; though, if the truth be told, Horace's humorwas decidedly anemic. She listened raptly to his stories of hisachievements, and was ready with the expected admiring smile when thetime arrived. A curious sense of unreality possessed her. She felt asif she were taking part in an exciting game.
"Miss Priscilla," said Horace suddenly, "are you at all interested inField Day?"
"It's not so bad when one knows the men," Priscilla replied, and theanswer showed the effect of Horace's influence in a little over halfan hour. For Priscilla adored Field Day. When she watched the variousevents her heart pounded as if she herself were taking part in thehundred yard dash. At the close of an exciting race, she had oftenfound herself on her feet, shrieking spasmodically, and waving herhandkerchief, and feeling the smart of tears in her strained eyes. Butinstinctively Priscilla knew that Horace would not consider Field Day alegitimate cause for excitement, and so she answered as she did.
"Sometimes I find it a deuce of a bore," Horace said. "The crowd andthe noise, don't you know. But if you are willing to accompany me nextFriday, Miss Priscilla, I'm sure this Field Day will prove a delightfulexception."
"Oh, thank you," Priscilla said carelessly. "I should enjoy going verymuch." Her nonchalant acceptance of the invitation gave no idea of hertumultuous excitement. She was no longer the odd one of the quartetteof chums. She was no longer left out. Her misgivings regarding herselfwere instantaneously set at rest, for she knew that, had she been asunattractive as she had feared, Horace Hitchcock would never haveinvited her to accompany him on such an occasion. Her pulses throbbed,and there was a humming in her ears as she chattered on without anyclear idea of what she was saying.
Priscilla's feeling of elation had nothing to do with Horace'spersonality. Had he been any other young man, equally well dressed andwell mannered, she would have felt exactly the same. Yet under thecircumstances she experienced a not unreasonable sense of gratitude.She shut her eyes to the little affectations of manner whichordinarily she would have found amusing. She refused to acknowledgeto herself that Horace was bragging. She had never liked him, andthe Horace who had invited her to the Field Day exercises was in allessentials the Horace of the ve
lvet suit; yet now, if she had heard himcriticized, she would have rushed impetuously to his defense. In short,Priscilla was started on a course which many an older and wiser womanhas followed to disaster.
Priscilla was in no hurry to mention the fact that she expected to be aspectator of the Field Day events. The very intensity of her previousqualms made her the more inclined to treat the present situationnonchalantly. On Thursday evening, however, she remarked casually toPeggy that she hoped their seats would not be too far separated. Peggylooked up in pleased surprise.
"Are you going, Priscilla? I'm awful glad. Who's taking you?"
"Horace Hitchcock."
"Horace Hitchcock!" Peggy repeated the name in such accents ofastonishment that Priscilla flushed. "Why not?" she asked rathercoldly.
"I didn't know you saw anything of him."
"I've known him as long as I've known you--almost as long as I've knownanybody."
"Why, of course, Priscilla. I remember when we used to see him atparties in a Fauntleroy suit. But I've lost track of him for an ageand I thought you had, too, that's all." There was an underlyingastonishment in Peggy's apology. She could not understand Priscilla'sseeming readiness to take offense. And when Priscilla began to talk ofsomething quite different, Peggy realized with fresh amazement thatthe peculiarities of Horace Hitchcock were, for the present, a tabooedtopic between them.