Brenda's Ward

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER XVII

  CLASS DAY

  At the breakfast-table Class Day morning, Martine found an envelopeaddressed in Elinor's neat handwriting.

  "You just must come with us," she read, as she broke the seal; "I hadonly half as good a time as I might have had last night, thinking ofyou. There must have been crowds of people you knew there. Kate'sbrother brought us four tickets for everything--even for Sanders Theatrethis morning. So please be ready at ten. Telephone. Hastily, Elinor."

  Martine, glancing at the clock, made a rapid calculation. In no waycould she double the hours between eight o'clock and one, and she had amorning's work to do before she could rightfully set out on apleasure-trip.

  "Angelina," she called, "please go to the telephone. Call up MissNaylor, and say that I cannot go with her this morning. Tell her,please, that I will meet her as we agreed in the afternoon."

  For a moment Angelina did not move. Telephoning was one of her delights,and Martine wondered why she stood rooted to the spot.

  Angelina, however, quickly explained herself.

  "Oh, Miss Martine," she cried, "I hate to give a message like that. Youjust ought to go off and have a good time. It isn't right for you toslave and slave, and you younger than me."

  Martine smiled at Angelina's lugubrious expression. She did not wish thelatter to see that she was a little downcast at the thought of the quietmorning at home.

  "Go, Angelina," she cried, "run quickly; it's a hot day, and I'mthankful enough that I can stay home until noon. Don't wait for ananswer. Simply leave the message for Miss Elinor."

  Martine's tone was so positive that Angelina had no choice but to obey,and when she returned, Martine was on her knees packing one of hermother's trunks.

  "Angelina," she explained, "we have only this morning and to-morrow forthe rest of our packing, for I have promised to spend Sunday with theStrothers' in Brookline, where mamma is. You are to go to Shiloh lateSaturday afternoon, and on Monday morning you and I must be herepromptly at nine, to send off the trunks and boxes. Mamma will stop herewith Mrs. Strothers on her way to the station to see that everything isleft in perfect condition. So even if we work with all our might thismorning we shall barely get through in time."

  "There's another helper coming," murmured Angelina.

  "Oh, yes, a scrub-woman, who couldn't do the least little thing to helppack the trunks. But hurry with the dishes, Angelina, for you can be alot of use."

  Though she spoke briskly, Martine felt a little depressed--for Martine.

  As she lifted trunk-trays, and folded skirts, and packed things inlittle boxes, she could not help thinking how much pleasanter it wouldbe to spend the morning in Sander's Theatre, listening to wittyspeeches, or later walking about the college grounds, with Elinor andKate and half a dozen attendant undergraduates.

  "If only mother hadn't been sick--"

  Then she suppressed the thought, ashamed of her own selfishness.

  At twelve o'clock she glanced around the room with undisguisedsatisfaction.

  "There, Angelina, we can easily finish to-morrow. Only two trunks andone box left, and some little odds and ends to do at the last moment.Oh, dear, I must get away quickly--the rooms look so bare."

  The fatigue that Martine had hardly before admitted to herself, almostovercame her while she was dressing. Bending, climbing, wielding ahammer, undoubtedly strengthen the muscles in the long run. Yet theprocess of muscle-building is often accompanied by sensations that anamateur athlete might pardonably call "weariness."

  Consequently, Martine must not be blamed if for a moment her spiritweakened as she looked at the white gown that Angelina had spread outfor her on the divan.

  "I can't go," she said; "I am too tired. I ought to have waited forLucian's Class Day, and if he is never to have a Class Day--why, then Iam never to have any fun. If we are so poor that he cannot finishcollege, then I shall be too poor to go to parties--or--or anything."

  There is nothing worse for a girl's spirits than self-pity. As Martinebent over the dress on the divan, a big tear splashed on one end of thesilk sash. This was followed by a second tear, and then the absurdity ofthe situation produced the rainbow. The rainbow in this case was thesmile that flashed amid the tears, the smile that made the tears seemabsolutely absurd as Martine caught sight of herself in the glass.

  "What a baby I am! Here I am going to join two of my best friends whohave promised me a splendid time, and just because I am a little tired,I feel as if the world were falling to pieces."

  A cool bath--an hour of leisurely dressing--a few compliments fromAngelina--and Martine was herself again.

  She knew that her mother would not altogether approve of her going aloneto Cambridge, and she regretted that she had not allowed Amy to sendsome one for her, as at first she had suggested.

  Just as she was wondering whether, if she could afford a carriage, hermother would approve of her driving to Cambridge alone, she heardAngelina's--

  "Walk in, please. Yes, ma'am, she hasn't gone yet," and then sherecognized the pleasant voice of Mrs. Redmond, saying,--

  "Tell her she need not hurry. I can wait."

  "But I can't wait--not a single minute," and Martine, rushing from thelittle bedroom, almost flung herself into Mrs. Redmond's arms.

  "There, there, my dear child--it's a warm day, and our clothes--"

  "Will not stand crushing. I know it, and how sweet you look in that softgray. But I thought you were at Cambridge."

  "Oh, no, I was not invited to the feast of reason this morning. I amgoing out merely for the frivolities of the afternoon. I forgot to writeyou that I had promised your mother I would call for you. I realized myoversight only as I started. Perhaps you have made other plans?"

  "I have been too busy for plans. Mamma forgot to tell me you werecoming. An hour ago I thought I was too busy to go to Cambridge, butnow--it just delights me to think of going with you."

  The ride in an open car over the long bridge soothed Martine. She almostforgot that she had been tired. When Mrs. Redmond drew from her thestory of her recent responsibilities, the young girl made light of thedifficulties that had beset her. She was always happy with Mrs. Redmond,and the latter's quick understanding of her present trials lessened thetrials themselves.

  When they reached Harvard Square, Martine's spirits rose.

  "There's no doubt I love a crowd," she said. "This makes me think of acountry fair, only the people are better dressed, and there are nofakirs."

  "My dear child--a country fair!"

  "I mean the atmosphere is somewhat the same--oh, there are Amy andFritz."

  Somewhere from the crowd pouring out from one of the smaller collegegates, Amy and Fritz were approaching the spot on the sidewalk whereMartine and Mrs. Redmond were standing.

  "I am delighted to see you, children," said Mrs. Redmond. "I wassecretly wondering where we should go next--to Fritz' rooms or to thePudding."

  "Oh, to the Pudding at once," responded Fritz; "you are none too early.As for Amy--"

  "I shall never dare look a strawberry in the face again. Early as it is,I have already eaten so many, and, oh, mamma, it is all so delightful.Fritz and I have already been at the Pudding, and now we'll go back withyou."

  At this point Mrs. Redmond interfered. She assured Fritz that she andMartine were quite able to take care of themselves.

  "It is the Senior's day," she said; "and Martine and I are here onlyincidentally. One of us is too old, and the other too young--almost tooyoung--to be exacting about Class Day. Martine's best time will comewhen Lucian graduates."

  "Run, Amy," exclaimed Martine. "It's delightful to see you and Mr.Tomkins getting on so well. You usually try to send him away somewhere;but now you are ready to go where he goes, and so your mother and Iwon't detain you for even a minute."

  "Let us hurry, then," said Amy, turning to Fritz. "If Martine is in oneof her mischievous moods, we cannot tell when she will stop teasing."

  "At my rooms at four," cried Fritz,
as he and Amy left the others at theentrance to the Pudding spread.

  From this moment for the rest of the day, Martine not only forgot thatshe was tired, but her recent troubles seemed altogether of the past. Inspite of the great crowd, a number of her Chicago friends found Martinein the corner where Mrs. Redmond made her sit. It is true that she hadnot even a word with Hazen Andrews, her special host, who, like mostSeniors, was thoroughly occupied looking after relatives and the girlsof the older set, to which Martine did not belong.

  She had not many friends among the Seniors, though two or three in theirflowing gowns, mortar-boards in their hands, came up to speak to her orMrs. Redmond.

  "Isn't it fun?" cried Martine to the latter. "It's like taking a journeysomewhere, and running upon all kinds of people that one hasn't seen fora long time--only one seldom sees so many persons one knows on a singlejourney."

  Promptly at four o'clock Mrs. Redmond and Martine met Amy and a numberof her friends at Fritz' rooms, and together they all went over to theMemorial delta where the statue exercises were held.

  "It's dazzling!" cried Martine, looking about at the tiers and tiers ofgayly dressed girls and women; "only more beautiful than a flowergarden, because it's more alive, this garden of people. I wish we couldsee Elinor here."

  "My dear little girl, this is a great pleasure," said a voice atMartine's elbow, and turning to the left, to her great surprise, Martinefound her neighbor to be a Chicago friend of her father.

  "Didn't know I was an old Harvard man! Well, the West does take thestarch of culture out of us. I'm going down there among the graduatesafter a while. I'm holding these seats for my niece and a friend, whothought they could never find it unless I was here as a landmark. Theyfailed to meet me, as people always fail on Class Day. Let me see,Lucian doesn't graduate this year?"

  "No, he isn't in Cambridge; he has gone to join father."

  "Yes, yes, of course; this has been a hard year for your father."

  The tears came to Martine's eyes.

  "Bless my soul, child, don't cry. It's coming out all right. Everyonemust have some business cares, and up to the present your father hasbeen remarkably successful. But money isn't everything!"

  "That's just it," responded Martine. "The money doesn't matter atall--to me. But we are afraid that father is breaking down--that's whyLucian has gone to South America; and we can't hear for some time justhow things are."

  "Well, well! I didn't realize that things were going so badly--at leastyou must think they are going badly, or you wouldn't look downcast. Abright girl like you should always look on the bright side of things.But so far as your father's business is concerned, I may tell you thatit is likely to take a turn for the better--at present I am not atliberty to say more. It's this news about his health that troubles me.Let me know what you hear from Lucian."

  Mr. Gamut's words were more cheering than anything Martine had heard forweeks, and in the few minutes that intervened before the arrival of hisniece, he told her a number of interesting stories about earlier ClassDays.

  "This is a larger gathering, this crowd around the statue, than we usedto see at the tree. But give me the tree, and the wreath, and the wildscramble, and the torn flowers that the boys were almost ready to staketheir lives for! Sometimes I am afraid we are making everything toorefined; a little rough and tumble is good even for the most cultivatedstudents. This confetti!--no, I don't care for it."

  Mr. Gamut, on the arrival of his niece, departed to his place among thegraduates. The niece was a girl whom Martine had known slightly at home.She had recently come from Chicago, and in consequence, was able to tellMartine various bits of news, which, if not important, at least had someinterest for one away from home.

  After the mass of students had marched into the enclosure, and had givenall the regulation Harvard cheers, Martine felt herself thoroughlyimbued with the spirit of the day. She listened intently to the cheers,hummed the air of "Johnny Harvard" while the students sang it. When herown stock of confetti was exhausted, she helped Mrs. Redmond throw hersin the direction of Fritz.

  "It's the prettiest sight I ever saw," she cried. "This wonderfulshimmering network of ribbons--it's as if we had been caught in arainbow--and if we were only a little farther away from people, theywould seem like real fairies. Oh, I am glad I came!"

  "I am glad that you are cheerful again," whispered Mrs. Redmond. "For amoment to-day, I feared that you were going to be blue."

  "Well, it was only for a moment. Now I feel happy--almost as happy asAmy. Come, Amy dear, Fritz will never find you in this crowd. Let usreturn to his rooms as quickly as we can. The sooner we are there, thesooner we shall go on to the spread."

  How Priscilla would have shuddered at the teasing tone that Martine usedin addressing Amy. Even though she now understood Martine so much betterthan formerly, and, indeed, really loved her, Priscilla could notaccustom herself to Martine's frivolity of speech and manner toward Amy.Fortunately for her own feelings, Priscilla was safely at Plymouth atthis particular moment, and Amy, whom Martine never offended, onlysmiled indulgently at the younger girl.

  They had not long to wait at Fritz' pleasant rooms before he appeared,flushed and triumphant, accompanied by two or three friends.

  "Wasn't it fine? We managed to bring you a few sprays of flowers. Thebevy of beauty on the seats above almost blinded us. But for that wemight have done better, although I can tell you, no one else got more;and we fairly had to fight our way out. Now we are ready to share ourtrophies. This for you, Amy, and Barton--yours, I believe, are for MissMartine; but I forget, you have never met. Mr. Barton, Miss Stratford--Ialways forget that the men I know do not always know the girls I know.But now, Barton, you will escort Mrs. Redmond and Miss Martine to ourhumble spread--and Helmer--ah, here they are--Miss Naylor, MissStarkweather--let me present Barton and Helmer, and Jack Underwood. Nowwe can start--I thought your aunt was coming--ah! lost?"

  "Of course she isn't lost, Kate," interposed the practical Elinor. "I amsure that I hear her on the stairs." And to prove that Elinor was right,a moment later the elder Miss Starkweather came panting into the room.

  "You should have waited for me, girls; I had such a fright--I was sureyou were lost!"

  "Not lost--only gone before," interrupted Fritz. "I am sorry I shockedyou, Amy," he whispered, catching her look of reproof. "Let us hurry on,ahead of the others."

  Martine, walking with Fritz' friend, Barton, across the college yard,felt quite in her element. The young man was by no means bashful, and ina few moments the two were deep in a lively conversation. Martine'sfatigue had passed away. Family trials were forgotten.

  Fritz Tomkins had united with four or five of his friends in giving alarge spread in one of the modern halls outside the yard.

  Secretly Martine thought the affair conventional, "like any afternoontea, with flowers on the table, and candelabra, and all the fashionablebonbons."

  "But you wouldn't see so many men at a mere tea, truly I think it'sgreat fun," said the staid Elinor, snuggling into a corner besideMartine. "At the next game I shall hardly know what side I am on. I likeHarvard so well, and your hat, Martine, the one I am wearing, you can'timagine how many compliments it has had. You were altogether too good tolet me have it. Do you suppose I shall _ever_ find that trunk?"

  Before Martine could reply, some one came to carry Elinor off for awalk. Martine, left to herself, eagerly watched everything around her.

  "I wonder why Fritz pays more attention to Amy than to anyone else. Hesees so much of her always that I should think to-day he'd look afterother people. Now, I'm sure Amy isn't sentimental."

  But just at this moment, Martine caught an expression on Fritz' face ashe turned toward Amy that set her thinking. Rising to her feet, shehurried toward Mrs. Redmond.

  "Tell me, please, how late you mean to stay. It's dark now, and thelanterns in the yard must be lit. I'd like to see the illumination, andhear the Glee Club sing, but I ought to be home by nine, please. I havea busy day befo
re me."

  "Just as you wish, my dear. I will speak to Amy."

  A moment later, Amy, Fritz, and Elinor surrounded Martine, protestingagainst her departure, urging her to go with them to Memorial, to returnwith them to Fritz' rooms, to watch the illuminations; in short, to doanything but go home.

  Martine, however, was firm, and when she started off for the yard withMrs. Redmond, Mr. Barton went with them.

  "It is a glimpse of fairyland," said Martine, as they strolled aboutthrough the crowd. "Why do these lines of lanterns make the yard lookten times its usual size? Why do these red lights make every one seembeautiful? Why--"

  "Let me continue," interrupted Emmons Barton. "_Why_ won't you come overto Memorial? _Why_ must you hurry home?"

  "Because I am Cinderella," responded Martine gayly. "Because I shouldhate to lose my glass slipper. Come, Mrs. Redmond, I am sure our car iswaiting, if Mr. Barton will only find it for us."