CHAPTER IV
AN ADVENTUROUS MOUNTAIN DAY
"The 19-- scholarships, providing aid to the approximate sum of onehundred dollars for each of four students, preferably members of anupper class"--thus the announcement was to appear formally in thecollege catalogue. The president and the donor had both heartilyapproved of Betty's scheme, and the scholarships were an accomplishedfact. It had been the donor's pleasant suggestion that 19-- should keepin perpetual touch with its gift to the college by appointing acommittee to act with one from the faculty in disposing of thescholarships. Betty Wales was chairman, of course. 19-- did not intendthat she should forget her connection with those scholarships. Bettytook her duties very seriously. She watched the girls at chapel, in therecitation halls, on the campus, noted those with shabby clothes andworried faces, found out their names and their boarding-places, and settactful investigations on foot about their needs. The enormous number ofher "speaking acquaintances" became a college joke.
"Bow, Betty," Katherine would whisper, whenever on their long countrywalks, they met a group of girls who looked as if they might belong tothe college. And then, "Is it possible I've found somebody you don'tknow? Better look them up right away."
"It's splendid training for your memory," Betty declared, and it was,and splendid training besides in helpfulness and social service, thoughBetty did not put it so grandly. To her it was just trying to takeDorothy King's place, and not succeeding very well either.
In looking up strangers, Betty did not forget her friends. Nobody couldbe more deserving of help than Rachel Morrison. Her hard summer's workhad worn on her and made the busy round of tutoring and study seemparticularly irksome. But Rachel, while she was pleased to think thatshe had been the joint committee's first choice, refused the money.
"I could only take it as a loan," she said, "and I don't want to have adebt hanging over my head next year. I'm not so tired now as I was whenI first got back, and I can rest all next summer. Did I tell you thatBabbie Hildreth's uncle has offered me a position in his school for nextfall?"
Emily Davis, on the other hand, was very glad to accept ascholarship,--"As a loan of course," she stipulated. She had practicallysupported herself for the whole four years at Harding, and the strainand worry had begun to tell on her. A little easier time this year wouldmean better fitness for the necessarily hard year of teaching that wasto follow, without the interval of rest that Rachel counted upon.Emily's mother was dead now, and her father made no effort to help hisambitious daughter. She might have had a place in the woolen mills,where he worked years before, he argued; since she had not taken it, shemust look out for herself.
But with the serious side of life was mixed, for Betty and the rest,plenty of gaiety. 19-- might not be greatly missed after they had goneout into the wide, wide world, but while they stayed at Hardingeverybody seemed bent on treating them royally.
"You know this is the last fall you'll have here," Polly Eastman wouldsay, pleading with Betty to come for a drive. "There's no such beautifulautumn foliage near Cleveland."
Or, "You must come to our house dance," Babbie Hildreth would declare."Just think how few Harding dances there are left for us to go to!"
Even the most commonplace events, such as reading aloud in the parlorsafter dinner, going down to Cuyler's for an ice, or canoeing in Paradiseat sunset took on a new interest. Seniors who had felt themselvessuperior to the material joys of fudge-parties and scorned the cruditiesof amateur plays and "girl-dances," eagerly accepted invitations toeither sort of festivity.
"And the moral of that, as our dear departed Mary Brooks would say,"declared Katherine, "is: Blessings brighten as diplomas come on apace.Between trying not to miss any fun and doing my best to distinguishmyself in the scholarly pursuits that my soul loves, I am well nighdistraught. Don't mind my Shakespearean English, please. I'm on thesenior play committee, and I recite Shakespeare in my sleep."
Dearest of all festivities to the Harding girl is Mountain Day, andthere were all sorts of schemes afoot among 19--'s members for makingtheir last Mountain Day the best of the four they had enjoyed so much.Horseback riding was the prevailing fad at Harding that fall, and everygirl who could sit in a saddle was making frantic efforts to get a horsefor an all-day ride among the hills. Betty was a beginner, but she hadbeen persuaded to join a large party that included Eleanor, Christy,Madeline, Nita, and the B's. They were going to take a man to look afterthe horses, and they had planned their ride so that the less experiencedequestrians could have a long rest after luncheon, and taking across-cut through the woods, could join the others, who would leave thepicnic-place earlier and make a long detour, so as to have their gallopout in peace.
It was a sunny, sultry Indian summer day,--a perfect day to ride, driveor walk, or just to sit outdoors in the sunshine, as Roberta Lewisannounced her intention of doing. She helped the horseback riders toadjust their little packages of luncheon, and looked longingly afterthem, as they went cantering down the street, waving noisy farewells totheir friends.
"I wish I weren't such a coward," she confided to Helen Adams, who wasstarting to join Rachel and Katherine for a long walk. "I love horses,but I should die of fright if I tried to ride one."
"Oh, they have a man with them," said Helen easily, "and it's a perfectday for a ride."
Roberta, who almost lived outdoors, and was weatherwise in consequence,looked critically at the western horizon. "I shouldn't be a bitsurprised if it rained before night," she said. "You'd better decide tolaze around in Paradise with me."
But Helen only laughed at Roberta's caution and went on, whereat RobertaLewis was very nearly the only Harding girl who was not drenched to theskin before Mountain Day was over.
The riding-party galloped through the town and stopped at the edge ofthe meadows for consultation.
"Let's go by the bridge and come back by the ferry," suggested Madeline."Then we shall have the prettiest part of the ride saved for sunset."
"And you'll have a better road both ways, miss," put in the groompractically.
So the party crossed the long toll-bridge, the horses steppinghesitatingly and curveting a little at the swish of the noisy water,climbed the sunny hills beyond, and dipped down to a level stretch ofwood, in the heart of which they chose a picnic-ground by the side of amerry little brook.
"We must have a fire," announced Bob, who had fallen behind theprocession, and now came up at the trot, just as the others weredismounting.
"But we haven't anything to cook," objected Eleanor.
"Coffee," grinned Bob jubilantly. "I've got folding cups stuffed aroundunder my sweater, and I stopped at that farmhouse back by the fork inthe road to get a pail."
"And there are marshmallows to toast," added Babe. "That's what I'vegot in my sweater."
"I thought you two young ladies had grown awful stout on a sudden,"chuckled the groom, beginning to pile up twigs under an overhangingledge of rock.
"And here are some perfectly elegant mushrooms," declared Madeline, whohad been poking about among the fallen leaves. "We can use the pail forthose first, and have the coffee with dessert."
All the girls had brought sandwiches, stuffed eggs, cakes, and fruit, sothat, with the extras, the picnic was "truly elegant," as Babe put it.They sang songs while they waited for the coffee to boil, and toastedBabe's marshmallows, two at a time, on forked sticks, voting Babe atrump to have thought of them.
Then they lay on the green turf by the brook, talking softly to thebabbling accompaniment of its music.
Finally Eleanor shivered and sat up. "Where is the sun?" she asked."Oughtn't we to be starting?"
"HERE ARE SOME PERFECTLY ELEGANT MUSHROOMS"]
The sky was not dark or threatening, only a bit gray and dull. The groomwas to stay with the novices--Christy, Babe and Betty--who, as soon asthe rest had mounted, raced down the road to get warm and also to returnthe pail that Bob had borrowed, to its owner. By the time they got back,after making a short call on the farmer's wife, the
sun was strugglingout again, but the next minute big drops began to patter down throughthe leaves.
The groom considered the situation. "I guess you'll jest have to waitand git wet. Miss Hildreth's horse is skittish on ferries. I wouldn'twanter go on with you an' leave her to cross alone."
So they waited, keeping as dry as possible under a pine tree, until thetime appointed for starting to the rendezvous. It was raining steadilynow. Babe's horse objected to getting wet, and pulled on the reinssullenly. The sky was fairly black. Altogether it was an uncomfortablesituation.
The road to the river was damp and slippery, and most of it was a steepdown-grade. There was nothing to do but walk the horses, Babe's dancingsidewise in a fashion most upsetting to Betty's nerves. By the time theyhad reached the ferry, darkness seemed to have settled, and there werelow growlings of thunder. Babe's horse reared, and she dismounted andstood at his head while they waited for the ferry to cross to them.
"I guess there's goin' to be a bad shower," volunteered the groom. "Iguess we'd better wait over in that barn till it's over. Animals don'tlike lightning."
The ferry seemed to crawl across the river, but it arrived at last, andeach girl led her horse on board. They were all frightened, but nobodyshowed the "white feather." Babe's cheeks were pale, though, as shepatted her restive mount, and laughed bravely at Madeline's futileefforts to feed sugar to her tall "Black Beauty," who jerked his noseimpatiently out of her reach each time she tried.
"Beauty must be awfully upset if he doesn't want sugar," said Babbie,who was standing next the groom. "He's the greed----" The next minuteBetty found herself holding her own and the groom's horse, while heplunged after Babbie's, who was snorting and kicking right into themidst of everything. It had lightened, and between the lightning andthe water Babbie's high-spirited mare was frantic, and was fastcommunicating her excitement to the others.
A minute later there was a tremendous jolt which set all the horses tojumping.
"I swan," said the apathetic ferryman who had paid no attention to theprevious confusion. "We're aground."
The girls looked at one another through the gathering shadows.
"How are we going to get off?" asked the groom desperately.
The ferryman considered. "I dunno."
Babbie's horse plunged again.
"Can we wade to shore?" asked the groom, when something like order wasrestored.
"Easy. You see I knew the river was awful low, but I s'posed----"
"The only thing that I can think of," interrupted the groom, "is for usto leave you girls with the horses, while we get to shore. Then you send'em off one by one, and we'll catch 'em. Miss Hildreth, you send yoursfirst. No, Miss Wales, you send mine first, then Miss Hildreth's mayfollow better. I'm awfully sorry to make you young ladies so muchtrouble."
"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Babbie bravely, shaking the water out ofher eyes. "Only--do hurry, please."
The "easy wading" proved to be through water up to a man's shoulders,and it lightened twice, with the usual consequences to Babbie's horse,before the groom signaled. His horse went off easily enough, butBabbie's balked and then reared, and Betty's lay down first and thenkicked viciously, when she and Babbie between them had succeeded ingetting him to stand up. Finally Madeline broke her crop in getting himover the side, and when Black Beauty had also been sent ashore the ferrylurched a little and floated.
"Do you suppose we shall ever get dry again?" asked Eleanor lightly,while they waited for the ferryman to come back to them.
Babbie touched her black coat gingerly. "Am I wet?" she whispered toBetty. "Of course I am, but I'd forgotten it." The reins had cut one ofher hands through her heavy glove, but she had forgotten that too, asshe shivered and clung to the railing that Black Beauty had splinteredwhen he went over. All she could think of was the horror of riding thatplunging, foam-flecked horse home.
The ferryman took them to his house, which was the nearest one to thelanding; and while he and the groom rubbed down the horses, his wife andlittle daughter made more coffee for the girls and helped them wring outtheir dripping clothes.
Babe pretended to find vast enjoyment in watching the water trickle offher skirts and gaiters. Christy, who rode bare-headed, declared that shehad gotten a beautiful shampoo free of charge. Even Babbie smiledfaintly and called attention to the "mountain tarn" splashing about inthe brim of her tri-corn hat.
"I tell ye, them girls air game," declared the ferryman watching themride off as soon as the storm was over. "That little slim one on the baymare is a corker. Her horse cut up somethin' awful. They all offered tochange with her, but she said she guessed she could manage. Look at theway she sets an' pulls. She's got grit all right. I guess I'll have tomake out to have you go to college, Annie."
Whereupon little Annie spent a rapturous evening dreaming of the timewhen she should be a Harding girl, and be able to say bright, funnythings like Miss Ayres. She resolved to wear her hair like Miss Watsonand to have a pleasant manner like Miss Wales, and above all to be"gritty" like Miss Hildreth. For the present evening the fiercest steedshe could find to subdue was an arithmetic lesson. Annie hatedarithmetic, but in the guise of a plunging bay mare, that it took gritto ride, she rather enjoyed forcing the difficult problems to come outright.
Meanwhile the riding party had reached the campus, a little later and alittle wetter than most of their friends, and they were provided withhot baths and hot drinks, and put to bed, where they lay in sleepycomfort enjoying the feeling of being heroines.
Very soon after dinner Betty got tired of being a heroine, and whenGeorgia Ames appeared and announced that a lot of freshmen were makingfudge in her room and wished Betty would come and have some and tellthem all about her experiences, she looked anxiously at Helen Adams, whowas the only person in the room just then.
"It's awfully good fudge--got marshmallows in it, and nuts," urgedGeorgia. "They want Miss Adams too."
"Can I come in a kimono?" asked Betty. "I'm too tired to dress."
"Of course. Only----" Georgia hesitated.
"There's a man in the parlor, calling on Polly Eastman. And the foldingdoors are stuck open. I wish my room wasn't down on that floor. You haveto be so careful of your appearance."
Betty frowned. "I want awfully to come. Can't you two think of a way?"
"Why of course," cried Georgia gleefully, after a moment'sconsideration. "We'll hold a screen around you. The man will know thatsomething queer is inside it, but he can't see what."
So the procession started, Helen and Georgia carrying the screen. At thetop of the last flight, they adjusted it around Betty, and began slowlyto make the descent. At the curve Georgia looked down into the hall andstopped, in consternation.
"They've moved out into the hall," she whispered. "No--this is LucileMerrifield and another man. We've got to go right past them."
"Let's go back," whispered Betty.
"But they've seen us," objected Helen, "and you'd miss the fudge."
A moment later, three girls and a Japanese screen fell through Georgia'sdoor into the midst of an amazed freshmen fudge party.
"Goodness," said Georgia, when she had recovered her breath. "Did youhear that horrid Lucile? 'A regular freshman trick'--that's what shesaid to her man. They blame everything on us."
"Well if this fudge is regular freshman fudge, it's the best I evertasted," said little Helen Adams tactfully.
Later in the evening Betty trailed her red kimono into Helen's room."Helen," she began, "did I have on my pearl pin when we starteddown-stairs to-night? I can't find it anywhere."
"I don't think you did," said Helen, thoughtfully, "but I'll go andsee. You might have dropped it off when we all landed in a heap on thefloor."
But the freshmen had not found the pin and diligent search of Georgia'sroom, as well as of the halls and stairways, failed to reveal it.
"Oh, well, I suppose it will turn up," said Betty easily. "I lost itonce last year, and ages afterward I found it in my desk. I shan't w
orryyet awhile. I didn't have it on this morning, did I?"
This time Helen remembered positively. "No, you had on your luckypin--the silver four-leaved clover that I like so much. I noticedparticularly."
"All right then," said Betty. "I saw it last night, so it must be aboutsomewhere. Some day when I'm not so lame from riding and so sleepy, I'llhave a grand hunt for it."
Betty Wales, Senior Page 5
