Kitabı oku: «Marjorie Dean, College Senior», sayfa 9
CHAPTER XIX – AN UNRELENTING ENEMY
At a meeting of the Nineteen Travelers in Robin’s room, a howl of indignation went up over the loss of the desired real estate. Discussion grew apace when Leslie Cairns’ part in the transaction was revealed. More than one girl among them named Elizabeth Walbert as the source from which Leslie had received information of the intended movement toward erecting a dormitory. Marjorie soon learned that she was not the only one who had seen the two girls driving together.
This grave set-back only served to make the new sorority more determined to carry out their project. Marjorie having brought Kathie’s play with her, she invited Leila to read it to the company. It was received with acclamation. Before the Travelers separated that evening, the parts had all been assigned. Lucy had volunteered the typing of each part during the evenings. She was sure that President Matthews would not object to her use of the typewriting machine in his home office. With rehearsals under way at once, they hoped to give a performance of the play soon after New Years. Leila, Vera and Helen offered to go to the attic of Wayland Hall and inspect the chest of costumes. Vera laughingly announced herself as wardrobe mistress. Leila accepted the post of stage manager and threatened to be “a bully of some bad manners and a roaring voice, if you show yourselves too stupid.”
The Saturday succeeding Marjorie’s and Robin’s disappointment sent Augusta Forbes to the heights of stardom in the basket ball arena. She went into the game fiercely resolving to outplay her team-mates if she could. She was in the pink of condition and played with more snap and precision than Marjorie had ever seen her exhibit. She carried her team, who did not distinguish themselves, on to victory by her sensational plays. The freshmen won over the sophomores by eight points. Gussie was riotously lauded, as she deserved to be, and escorted in triumph about the gymnasium by the usual admiring mob of jubilant fans.
That evening she came to Marjorie’s door and called her into the hall.
“I can’t stay a minute,” she commenced in evident embarrassment. “I only want to say that I couldn’t have played so well if it hadn’t been for you. I was losing my nerve until you made those girls let me alone. One of them was really pleasant to me today. The others haven’t been quite so snippy as before. Thank you, until I can do something splendid for you.”
She turned and fairly ran down the hall, leaving Marjorie to look smilingly after her. She had not had time to say a word in return for the impulsive little recognition of her own worth.
“Why don’t you invite your company inside the room instead of whispering to them in the hall?” demanded Jerry with a ferocious scowl, as Marjorie re-entered. “Once I was your honored confidant. Now I am – What am I? An idiot, let us say, for studying Political Science. It’s werry dry and werry hard, Bean.”
“You are still my honored confidant. I never considered you an idiot, and I loathe Political Science. I wasn’t whispering outside the door, though. I was talking to l’enfant angelique, suppose we call her. She came to tell me that the other girls on the team are minding their own affairs as they should.”
“I’m amazed,” Jerry retorted genially. “Gloomy Gus has certainly arrived. She was a whirlwind today. Without her the freshies would not have whipped the sophs. She’s agile, and has a good eye for the basket. She landed some beauties this afternoon.”
Marjorie seconded this opinion. After a further remark or two, Jerry turned her attention to the despised intricacies of Political Science. Marjorie made a valiant effort to study, but her mind roved to her personal affairs. She finally took paper and pencil and began to jot down the various things she must do before going home for the Christmas holidays.
Paramount among them was a visit she must make to Miss Susanna. The nine girls whom the old lady had taken into her liking had already ordered their tribute of flowers to be sent to her on the day before Christmas. Marjorie always felt rather timid about going to Hamilton Arms without a special invitation. She had done so once or twice that fall, as Miss Susanna had invited her to come to the Arms at any time. She finally decided to write her eccentric friend a note, asking permission to spend a part of the next Sunday afternoon with her. That would really be the only free time she would have before Christmas. College would close the following Thursday for the Yuletide holidays.
In the light of after events Marjorie looked back on that particular Sunday afternoon as having been, the most perfect visit she had ever made Miss Susanna. The old lady unbent conversationally to a marked degree. She related incidents concerning her life at Hamilton Arms, and also that of her distinguished uncle, Brooke Hamilton, which, ordinarily, would have remained obstinately locked behind her stubborn lips.
Listening to Marjorie’s account of the recent failure of the Nineteen Travelers to secure the site for the proposed dormitory, Miss Susanna waxed quite indignant over the manner in which the loss had been effected.
“Too bad that man Cutler didn’t have John Saxe’s address,” she said tersely. “I know John very well. I remember him as a youngster in kilts. I have been told that Cutler is an honorable gentleman. That’s saying a good deal for a real estate agent in these days of trickery.”
“He spoke of that piece of ground beyond those two blocks of houses which belongs to the Carden estate. He said the Cardens might decide to sell it some day.” Marjorie spoke with the unfailing optimism of youth.
“Not to anyone connected with Hamilton College.” Miss Susanna’s face had set harshly at mention of the name Carden. “Alec Carden was the man I had trouble with that wound up my interest in Hamilton College. He is dead now. He had two sons, both married and the heads of families. One of them lives at Carden Hedge, off and on. The other is a financier in New York, I believe. They were always a hard, tricky, dishonorable set. But enough of them. Cutler didn’t say who owned that block of houses below the one you lost, did he?”
“Why, no,” Marjorie replied after brief reflection. “I can’t recall that he said more than that they were not for sale.”
“Indeed, they are not for sale!” exclaimed Miss Hamilton. “Those houses belong to me. Uncle Brooke once owned the other block. He sold it to John Saxe’s father.”
“Then we need never hope to build our dormitory where your houses now stand.” Marjorie could not resist saying this. She smiled, looking her hostess squarely in the eyes as she uttered the pointed remark.
It appeared to amuse Miss Susanna immensely. She laughed and said: “You are a straightforward child, aren’t you? To please you I would be glad to part with those properties for a small sum. I can’t consider the situation from that standpoint, unfortunately. I am done with Hamilton College. That settles the matter. Suppose we talk about something else.”
Quite accustomed to the old lady’s moods, Marjorie obligingly complied with the preemptory request. Neither did she allow it to intrude upon her mind until she had left Miss Susanna that evening. She carried with her a basket of be-ribboned packages to be distributed among the eight girls of Miss Susanna’s acquaintance. The old lady’s emphatic order had been: “These are to be opened on Christmas morning; not a minute before.”
As she hurried lightly along over the frozen ground, Marjorie wondered mightily what dire calamity had been precipitated to incur such implacable hatred against Hamilton College as Miss Susanna plainly harbored. She could never think of it rather than sorrowfully. It seemed so sad, that, after all the time and labor and love Brooke Hamilton had lavished upon the college, one of his own kin should be its most unrelenting enemy.
Meanwhile Miss Hamilton had rung for Jonas and was repeating to him all that Marjorie had said to her. Jonas occupied in her household the position of manager, servitor and valued friend. He was close to eighty years of age and had been at Hamilton Arms even longer than had Miss Susanna. He had, as a young man, served Brooke Hamilton faithfully during the latter’s declining years.
“By right, Jonas, I ought to turn over that property to those energetic youngsters,” she asserted in her quick, matter-of-fact fashion. “Their object is really a worthy one.”
“They are trying to carry on his work,” Jonas rejoined solemnly. “He would have wanted it to be so, Miss Susanna.”
“Oh, I know it, Jonas; I know it.” There was more than a shade of regret in the admission. “I can’t overlook some things. The college doesn’t deserve it from me; not after the way I was treated by the Board. No; they can’t have it. If there was any good way to get hold of that strip of open ground of Cardens, I’d do it. Cutler could be trusted to sell it to Marjorie, and her friend Robin, without mentioning me in the transaction. I’d do it only to please the child, though; only to please her.”
CHAPTER XX – ON HAMILTON HIGHWAY
Rehearsals of “The Maid of Honor” had been begun before the holiday vacation. Returned from their fortnight’s recreation, it did not take the illustrious cast long to pick up again in their parts. Muriel, much to her amazement, had been chosen for Berenice, the heroine. Jerry reveled in the part of Piccato, the jester. Leila was to play the male lead of Florenzo, an ambassador from the Spanish Court. He falls desperately in love with Berenice, who has been promised from childhood to Lord Carstairs, an English nobleman, favored by Queen Elizabeth for his harshly dominating personality. Ronny was cast for Narita, a court dancer, who finally aids Berenice to escape from England with Florenzo, her courtier husband, whom she has secretly married.
On account of her height and breadth of shoulder, Augusta Forbes had been asked to take the part of Lord Carstairs. For several days after Leila had requisitioned her services as an actor, she went about with her head in the clouds. Her chums were no less pleased over the honor that had fallen to “Gus.” Neither had they been forgotten. The play required a large number of extra persons for courtiers, ladies in waiting, etc. The Bertram girls were among the first invited to grace the stage in these minor rôles.
Luckily for the managers of the performance, the cedar chest in the attic furnished enough really gorgeous court costumes to fit out the principal male characters. This was due to the fact of the small percentage of women in the Shakespearian dramas for which the costumes had been originally fashioned. As neither Leila, Vera, Helen nor Martha Merrick were overburdened with subjects, they took upon themselves the getting together of the costumes for the feminine contingent.
On a Friday evening, the latter part of January, “The Maid of Honor” was presented to an overflowing house. The gymnasium had, as usual, served as theatre on account of its seating capacity. While the stage of Greek Hall was much better as a stage, its auditorium would hold not more than two hundred persons.
Actors, author and managers received enough applause during the play, and enough adulation afterward, to turn their youthful heads. Honors were so evenly divided among the principals it was hard to say who deserved the most praise. Katherine, as author, received, perhaps, the most admiring tribute of them all.
Acting upon Jerry’s shrewd advice, two dollars had been set as the price of admission with no reserved seats. She had argued that two dollars was less than persons of their means usually paid for seats at a theatre. In order not to leave out the off-the-campus girls, Ronny had counted them up and bought tickets for them. These she commissioned Anna Towne to distribute with the stern warning: “Don’t one of your crowd dare stay away from our play.”
The net receipts of the play amounted to eleven hundred, forty dollars, which the gratified managers banked with gleeful satisfaction. Immediately they set to work on a new play, also by Kathie, entitled, “The Wyshinge Welle,” a drama of the Saxons in Ethelbert’s time. This was hailed with jubilation by Leila, who was especially fond of the life of this period of history. The latter part of February would see its presentation. If the promoters of drama at Hamilton found it did not interfere too greatly with their studies, they planned to give two more plays, a musical revue and a concert before the closing of the college in June.
After the stir occasioned by “The Maid of Honor” had died out came a restful lull. January vanished rapidly into the deep pocket of the year. February arrived, sharp and blustering in its early days; warm and full of frequent thaws toward its close. Sunshine and absence of snow made it fine weather for automobiling, and the students of Hamilton were quick to take advantage of it.
“A lot of girls are out with their cars today,” Marjorie observed to Jerry as she stood before the mirror of her dressing table adjusting her hat. “I almost wish I had one. Still, I don’t need it, and it would be an extravagance for me. I wouldn’t have a cent to give toward the dormitory. That’s why Robin and some of the other Travelers won’t have their cars here. The upkeep is so great. At home, garage rent is not more than ten dollars a month. The girls here pay from fifteen to twenty.”
“That’s because they are a college crowd. A garage proprietor figures that a girl who can afford to keep a car at Hamilton can afford to pay a good, stiff garage rent,” declared Jerry shrewdly.
“Correct, as usual, Jeremiah.” Marjorie turned from the mirror and began drawing on her gloves.
“My head is level, Bean; extremely so. I suppose you won’t be back before nine o’clock.”
“About that time. What shall I say to Miss Susanna for you?” It being Saturday afternoon, Marjorie was on the point of setting out for Hamilton Arms. She had received a note from Miss Susanna on the day previous inviting her to spend the afternoon and take dinner at the Arms.
“Tell her to invite me next time,” modestly requested Jerry. “Remind her that she hasn’t entertained the crowd of us since before Christmas.”
“I believe I will tell her that, Jeremiah.” Marjorie tipped her head to one side and regarded her room-mate with apparent seriousness.
“If you do,” Jerry looked startled, “I’ll never forgive you, Marjorie Dean.”
“Then I won’t tell her.” Marjorie’s sober face relaxed into a teasing smile.
“Uh-h; I guess not,” Jerry smiled with her. “I don’t know what I shall do this afternoon. Hunt up Helen and make her take me to ride, maybe. Oh, I forgot. Leila is going to West Hamilton. She said she’d take me with her. I’m saved from my own society.”
“I wish you were going with me.” Marjorie paused regretfully, hand on the door knob.
“Don’t worry over me, as Danny Seabrooke loves to say. Beat it.” Jerry waved a jesting hand at Marjorie. “Shoo! Begone!”
Laughing, Marjorie went. As she left the college gates behind her she was thrilled with the joy of being alive on such a day. The clear skies, brilliant sunshine and pleasant tang in the air inspired joy of living. Once on the highway, several girls driving their cars called out to her, asking her to ride. To each invitation she smilingly said “No.” In the first place she could not very well ask a student she might ride with to drop her at Hamilton Arms. In the second place she infinitely preferred to walk.
“It is such a fine day I thought you might like to take a walk with me to see my head gardener,” Miss Hamilton proposed shortly after Marjorie’s arrival. “He fell on the ice not long ago and broke his arm. I am going to take him a basket of fruit and dainties. I am not fond of making calls, but I always try to look after my people when they have sickness or are in distress.”
“I’d love to go with you,” Marjorie heartily assured. “I’ll carry the basket in memory of one other day when I carried a basket for you.”
“A very fortunate day it was for me.” Miss Susanna smiled brightly upon the pretty senior. Her affection for Marjorie was the brightest spot in her secluded life.
“We can’t avoid taking the highway for some distance,” deplored the old lady as they walked down the drive toward the entrance gates. “My gardener lives not far from it, but almost half a mile from here. There is a gardener’s house on the estate, but he owns his home and prefers to live there. This is just the kind of day for your Hamilton girls to be filling the highway with their automobiles. It is taking one’s life into one’s hands to venture along the road when they and their cars are out in numbers.”
There was distinct aggressiveness in the speech. Miss Hamilton cherished a rooted antipathy for automobiles. She still kept in the Arms stable a pair of thoroughbred coach horses for her own use. Nothing could tempt her to ride in a motor car.
From Hamilton Arms to the adjoining estate the pike was broad, with wide level footpaths on each side. They could travel this portion of it without fear of accident from passing automobiles. A gradual curve in the road at the beginning of the next estate and it narrowed, continuing for two hundred yards or more between two slight elevations. It was the only “tricky” stretch of the highway, as Leila had often remarked when driving over it.
The top of these elevations formed footpaths only wide enough to permit the passing of persons, single file. The February thaw had left them too muddy to be used by pedestrians. It was a case of either take to the pike itself or walk in the mud.
“A nice state of affairs!” Miss Susanna exclaimed, her eyes snapping. “This is the way those good-for-nothing Cardens left their part of the highway. These banks should be leveled even with the roadbed. Then they would be fit to walk on. Catch the Cardens spending any money for the good of the public! Compare the appearance of their estate with that of Hamilton Arms! Quite a difference, isn’t there?”
“I should say so.” Interested in what Miss Susanna was saying, Marjorie had relaxed for a moment her vigilant watch on the road. She now gazed critically at the wide, but not specially ornamental grounds surrounding the colonial residence which housed the hated Cardens when at home. She saw clearly the inferiority of this estate as compared to the dignity of ever-beautiful Hamilton Arms.
A sharp little shout of alarm, and her attention leaped to the road again. Around the curve, coming toward them, a car had dashed at full speed. Miss Susanna had cried out as she attempted to dodge it. So abruptly had it appeared around the curve she had not seen it until it was directly upon her. The driver lacked the skill to turn the car aside quickly enough to avert the calamity. Marjorie added her cry of horror to Miss Hamilton’s. Before she could drag her elderly friend out of danger, she saw her apparently flung to one side. The devastating motor car gave a wicked lurch and whizzed on.
Bewildered by the suddenness of the accident, Marjorie stared unbelievingly when she next beheld Miss Susanna not only move but raise herself from the ground to a sitting posture. Sight of this apparent miracle galvanized her into action. She sprang to Miss Hamilton calling out:
“Oh, Miss Susanna, I’m so thankful you weren’t run over. Tell me where you are hurt. I saw the car fling you and – ”
“The car didn’t touch me. I made a leap and fell down just beyond it by not more than an inch or two. My foot slipped in the soft mud. I am all right. Help me up, child.”
Marjorie had not attempted to raise the old lady to her feet before ascertaining whether she were able to stand. She now lifted her up with her grateful, young strength, exclaiming indignant sympathy over the muddy condition of Miss Hamilton’s long coat of fine black broadcloth.
“Can you walk, Miss Susanna, or do you feel too much shaken? Perhaps you ought to stand still for a few minutes until you recover from the shock. Plenty of taxicabs from the station or the taxi stand below the campus pass here. I could hail one for you if you would ride in it to the gardener’s house.”
“No, not for me,” refused the old lady with sharp decision. “I shall turn back and go home. I will send Jonas with the basket this evening.”
“Take my arm. I can carry the basket with my other hand.” As she talked Marjorie had busied herself in brushing off what she could of the mud from the old lady’s coat. Miss Susanna’s hat was still jammed over one eye. Her small, sturdy hands were plastered with sticky mud. “Let me straighten your hat. There! Now hold out your hands.” Marjorie wiped them with her own handkerchief.
“Such a catastrophe,” scolded Miss Hamilton, “and at my age! And all on account of a reckless girl driver! I think I had better take your arm, Marjorie. Can you manage to support me and carry that basket, too?”
Assuring Miss Hamilton that she could, the two slowly retraced their steps. A reaction soon setting in, Miss Susanna became silent for a time. Marjorie said nothing, fearing conversation might prove an undue strain upon the victim of the accident.
“The least that young savage could have done was to come back and see if there were any casualties,” Miss Hamilton burst forth abruptly as they entered the gateway of the Arms. She had now sufficiently recovered from the shock to feel belligerent toward the culprit. “A Hamilton girl, I suppose. Did you recognize her, Marjorie?”
“Yes; I know who she is,” Marjorie replied reluctantly.
“Very good. I shall report her to President Matthews,” announced Miss Susanna, wagging her head. “You are to tell me her name, or, better still, you and I will go together to his office and report her.”
Marjorie felt consternation rise within her. The last thing in the world she wished to do was to go to President Matthews’ office on such an errand, even with Miss Susanna. Quick as a flash came the reminder of the president’s threat to ban automobiles at Hamilton, made at the time of the accident to Katherine Langly.
“Miss Susanna,” she began impulsively, hardly knowing how to speak her mind without giving offense, “I know that girl who nearly ran you down deserves to be reported. She has the reputation of being a poor driver, and a very reckless one. Most of the Hamilton girls who drive cars are careful. Two years ago, Miss Cairns, the one who bought the properties from us, ran down Katherine. She was ill two weeks from the shock. She just missed having her spine permanently injured. She did not report Miss Cairns to President Matthews but – ”
“And you think because Katherine was simpleton enough to allow a murderous act like that to go unpunished that I ought to do likewise,” supplied Miss Susanna in a whip-like tone of anger which Marjorie had never before heard her use. “You are – ”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Susanna, I did not mean – ” Marjorie re-commenced in a distressed voice.
“Listen to me.” The irate old lady held up her hand by way of command. “You are talking utter nonsense.” The last of the Hamiltons was not accustomed to being crossed. Shaken by her fall, she was now in a highly querulous state, common to those over sixty. “Not report that young heathen – ridiculous! This girl must be a friend of yours whom you are trying to shield. Certainly I shall report her. I hold it important to do so. You may know how important I consider reporting her when I propose going to your president myself. I – who have not set foot on the campus for years. I find I am not well enough to have you at the Arms to dinner this evening. I will bid you good afternoon. Set the basket on the steps.”
They had reached the broad flight of stone steps leading to the veranda of the Arms as the offended great-niece of Brooke Hamilton snapped out these pithy statements.
“Good afternoon, Miss Susanna.” The piteous light in Marjorie’s eyes changed to one of justly wounded pride. Very gently she set the basket on the top step and turned away. Her friendship with the last of the Hamiltons had terminated as abruptly as it had begun.
