Betty Wales, Senior

by Harriet Pyne Grove

  CHAPTER XVI

  A HOOP-ROLLING AND A TRAGEDY

  19-- was having its hoop-rolling. This is the way a senior hoop-rollingis managed: custom decrees that it may take place on any afternoon ofsenior week, which is the week before commencement when the seniors'work is over though the rest of the classes are still toiling over theirJune exams. Some morning a senior who feels particularly young andfrolicsome suggests to her friends at chapel that, as the time-honoredofficial notice puts it,

  "The day has come, the seniors said, To have our little fling. Let's buy our hoops and roll them round, And laugh and dance and sing."

  If her friends also feel frolicsome they pass the word along, and unlesssome last year's girls have bequeathed them hoops, they hurry down-townto buy them of the Harding dealer who always keeps a stock on hand forthese annual emergencies. The seniors dress for luncheon in "littlegirl" fashion, skirts up and hair down, and the minute the meal is overthey rush out into the sunshine to roll hoop, skip rope, swing in thelong-suffering hammocks under the apple trees, and romp to their hearts'content. Freshmen hurrying by to their Livy exam, turn green with envy,and sophomores and juniors "cramming" history and logic indoors lean outof their windows to laugh and applaud, finally come down to watch thefun for "just a minute," and forget to go back at all.

  19-- had its hoop-rolling the very first day of senior week. As MadelineAyres said when she proposed it, you couldn't tell what might turn up,in the way of either fun or weather, for the other days, so it was bestto lose no time. And such a gay and festive hoop-rolling as it was!First they had a hoop-rolling parade through the campus, and then somehoop-rolling contests for which the prizes were bunches of daisies,"presented with acknowledgments to Miss Raymond," Emily Davis explained.When they were tired of hoops they ran races. When they were out ofbreath with running they played "drop the handkerchief" and "LondonBridge." After that they serenaded a few of their favorite faculty. Thenthey had a reformed spelling-match, to prove how antiquated theirrecently finished education had already become.

  Finally they sat down in a big circle on the grass and had "stunts."Babbie recited "Mary had a little lamb," for possibly the thousandthtime since she had learned to do it early in her junior year. EmilyDavis delivered her famous temperance lecture. Madeline sang her Frenchsongs, Jane Drew did her ever-popular "hen-act," and Nancy Simmons gave"Home, Sweet Home," as sung into a phonograph by Madame Patti on hertenth farewell tour.

  Most of these accomplishments dated back as far as 19-- itself, and halfthe girls who heard them knew them by heart, but they listened to eachone in breathless silence and greeted its conclusion with prolonged andvigorous applause. It was queer, Alice Waite said, but some way younever, never got tired of seeing the same old stunts.

  When the long list of 19--'s favorites was finally exhausted and EmilyDavis had positively refused to give the temperance lecture for a thirdtime, the big circle broke up into a multitude of little ones. BobParker and a few other indefatigable spirits went back to skipping rope;the hammocks filled with exclusive twos and threes; larger coteries saton the grass or locked arms and strolled slowly up and down the broadpath that skirted the apple-orchard.

  Betty, Helen and Madeline were among the strollers.

  "One more of the famous last things over," said Madeline with aregretful little sigh. "I'm glad we had it before the alums, and thefamilies begin to arrive and muddle everything up."

  "Did I tell you that Dorothy King is coming after all?" asked Betty,who, in a short white sailor suit, with her curls flying and her hoopclutched affectionately in one hand, looked at least eight years tooyoung to be a senior, and supremely happy.

  "Has she told you, Helen?" repeated Madeline dramatically. "She tells meover again every time I see her. When is Mary Brooks scheduled toarrive?"

  "Thursday," answered Betty, "so that she can see the play all threetimes."

  "Not to mention seeing Dr. Hinsdale between the acts," suggestedMadeline. "What do you two say to a picnic to-morrow?"

  Helen said, "How perfectly lovely!" and Betty decided that if Helen andMadeline would come to the gym in the morning and help with the lastbatch of costumes for the mob, she could get off by three o'clock in theafternoon.

  "That reminds me," she added, "that I promised Nerissa to ask Eleanor ifshe has any shoes to match her blue dress. The ones we ordered aren'tright at all by gas-light."

  "There's Eleanor just going over to the Hilton," said Helen.

  "Find out if she can go to the picnic," called Madeline, as Bettyhurried off, shouting and waving her hoop. "We'll be asking the others."

  "El-ea-nor!" cried Betty shrilly, making frantic gestures with her hoop.But though Eleanor turned and looked back at the gay pageant under thetrees, she couldn't single out any one figure among so many, and afteran instant's hesitation she went on up the Hilton House steps.

  So Betty stepped across the campus alone, and being quite out of breathby the time she got indoors went slowly up-stairs and down the long hallto Eleanor's room. The house was very still--evidently its inmates wereall out watching the hoop-rolling. Betty found herself walking softly,in sympathy with the almost oppressive silence. Eleanor's door was ajar,so that Betty's knock pushed it further open.

  "May I come in?" she asked, hearing Eleanor, as she supposed, movingabout inside. Without waiting for an answer she walked straight in andcame face to face with--not Eleanor, but Miss Harrison, championBlunderbuss of 19--.

  "Why, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharp withamazement. "I beg your pardon," she added laughingly, "but I thought ofcourse it was Eleanor Watson. She came into the house just ahead of me."

  "She hasn't been in here yet," said the Blunderbuss. She had beenstanding when Betty first caught sight of her. Now she dropped hastilyinto a chair by the window. "I was sure she'd be back soon and I wantedto speak to her for a minute. But I guess I won't wait any longer. Ishall be late to dinner."

  "Why, no, you won't," said Betty quickly. "It isn't anywhere neardinner-time yet." She didn't care about talking to the Blunderbuss whileshe waited for Eleanor, but she had a great curiosity to know what thegirl could want with Eleanor. "And I don't believe Eleanor will have anymore idea than I have," she thought.

  But the Blunderbuss rose nervously. "Well, anyway, I can't wait," shesaid. "I guess it's later than you think. Good-bye."

  Just at that minute, however, somebody came swiftly down the hall. Itwas Eleanor Watson, carrying a great bunch of pink roses.

  "Oh, Betty dear," she cried, not noticing the Blunderbuss, who hadstepped behind a Japanese screen, "see what daddy sent me. Wasn't itnice of him? Why, Miss Harrison, I didn't see you." Eleanor dropped herroses on a table and came forward, looking in perplexity first at MissHarrison and then around the room. "Betty," she went on quickly, "haveyou been hunting for something? I surely didn't leave my bureau drawersopen like this."

  Betty's glance followed Eleanor's to the two drawers in the chiffonierand one in the dressing table which were tilted wide open, theircontents looked as if some one had stirred them up with a big spoon. Shehad been too much engrossed by her encounter with Miss Harrison tonotice any such details before.

  "No, of course I haven't been hunting for anything," she answeredquickly. "I shouldn't think of doing such a thing when you were away."

  "I shouldn't have minded a bit." Eleanor turned back to Miss Harrison."Did you want to see me," she asked, "or did you only come up withBetty?"

  The Blunderbuss wet her lips nervously. "I--I wanted to ask you aboutsomething, but it doesn't matter. I'll see you some other time. You'llwant to talk to Miss Wales now."

  She had almost reached the door, when, to Eleanor's furtherastonishment, Betty darted after her and caught her by the sleeve. "MissHarrison," she said, while the Blunderbuss stared at her angrily, "I'min no hurry at all. I can wait as well as not, or if you want to seeEleanor alone I will go out. But I think that you owe it to Eleanor andto yourself too to say why you ar
e here."

  The Blunderbuss looked defiantly from Betty's determined face toEleanor's puzzled one. "I didn't know it was Miss Watson's room untilyou came in and asked for her," she vouchsafed at last.

  "You didn't know it was her room?" repeated Betty coldly. "Why didn'tyou tell me that long ago? Whose room did you think you were in?"

  "I thought--I didn't know whose it was."

  "Then," said Betty deliberately, "if you admit that you were in herewithout knowing who occupied the room you must excuse me if I ask youwhether or not you were looking through Eleanor's bureau drawers justbefore I came in."

  There was a strained silence.

  "You can have all the things back," said the Blunderbuss at last, ascoolly as if she were speaking of returning a borrowed umbrella; and outof the pockets of the child's apron which she still wore she pulled agold chain and a bracelet and held them out to Eleanor. "I don't wantthem," she said when neither of the others spoke. "I don't know why Itook them. It just came over me that while all the others were out thereplaying it would be a good chance for me to go and look at their prettythings."

  "And to steal the ones you liked best," added Betty scornfully.

  The Blunderbuss gave her a vaguely troubled look. "I didn't think of itthat way. Anyway it's all right now. Haven't I given them right back?"

  "Suppose we hadn't come in and found you here," put in Eleanor."Wouldn't you have taken them away?"

  "I--I presume so," said the Blunderbuss.

  "So you are the person who has been stealing jewelry from the campushouses all through this year." Betty's voice grew harder as sheremembered the injustice she had so nearly done Georgia and MissHarrison's self-righteous attack on Eleanor in that dreadfulclass-meeting.

  The Blunderbuss accepted the statement without comment. "They could havehad the things back if they'd asked for them," she said. "I couldn'tvery well give them back if they didn't ask."

  "Will you give them back now?" asked Betty, astonishment at the girl'sstrange behavior gaining on her indignation.

  The Blunderbuss nodded vigorously. "Certainly I will. I'll bring themall here to-night. I don't want them for anything. I never wanted them.I'm sure I don't know why I took them. Oh, there's just one thing," sheadded hastily, "that I can't bring. It isn't with the rest. But I've goteverything else all safe and I'll come right after dinner. Good-bye."

  THE GIRLS WATCHED HER IN BEWILDERMENT]

  The girls watched her go in a daze of bewilderment. Just outside thedoor she evidently bumped into some one, and her clattering laugh andloud, "Goodness, how you scared me!" sounded as light-hearted andunconcerned as possible.

  "How did you ever guess that she was the one?" Eleanor asked at last.

  "It just came over me," Betty answered. "But, why, she doesn't seem tocare one bit!"

  "About running into me?" asked Jean Eastman, appearing suddenly in thedoorway. "Has she been doing damage in here, too?" No one answered andJean gave a quick look about the room, noticing the rummaged drawers,the girls' excited, tragic faces, and the jewelry that Eleanor still hadin her hand. Then she made one of her haphazard deductions, whoseaccuracy was the terror of her enemies and the admiration of herfollowers.

  "Oh, I see--it's more college robber. So our dear Blunderbuss is thethief. I congratulate you, Eleanor, on the beautiful poetic justice ofyour having been the one to catch her."

  "Yes, she's the thief," said Betty, before Eleanor could answer. She hada sudden inspiration that the best way to treat Jean, now that sheguessed so much, was to trust her with everything. "And she acts sostrangely--she doesn't seem to realize what she has done, and shedoesn't care a bit that we know it. She said----" And between them theygave Jean a full account of their interview with Miss Harrison.

  Jean listened attentively. "It's a pathetic case, isn't it?" she said atlast, with no trace of her mocking manner. "I wonder if she isn't akleptomaniac."

  Betty and Eleanor both looked puzzled and Jean explained the long word."It means a person who has an irresistible desire to steal oneparticular kind of thing, not to use, but just for the sake of takingthem, apparently. I heard of a woman once who stole napkins and piledthem up in a closet in her house. It's a sort of insanity or very nearlythat. Of course jewelry is different from napkins, but Miss Harrison hastaken so much more than she can use----"

  "Especially so many pearl pins," put in Betty, eagerly. "Haven't younoticed what a lot of those have been lost? She couldn't possibly wearthem all."

  "Perhaps she meant to sell them," suggested Eleanor.

  "But her family are very wealthy," objected Jean. "They spend theirsummers where Kate does, and she says that they give this girleverything she wants. She never took money either, even when it waslying out in plain sight, and her being so ready to give back the thingsseems to show that she didn't take them for any special purpose."

  "Then if she's a----" began Betty.

  "Kleptomaniac," supplied Jean.

  "She isn't exactly a thief, is she?"

  "No, I suppose not," said Jean doubtfully.

  "But she isn't a very safe person to have around," said Eleanor.

  "I'll tell you what," said Betty, who had only been awaiting a favorableopening to make her suggestion. "It's too big a question for us to tryto settle, isn't it, girls? Let's go and tell Miss Ferris all that we'vefound out so far, and leave the whole matter in her hands."

  Then Jean justified the confidence that Betty had shown in her. "Youcouldn't do anything better," she said, rising to leave.

  "I wish I'd known her well enough to talk things over with her,--notpublic things like this, I mean, but private ones. Betty, here's a notethat Christy Mason asked me to give you. That's what I came in for,originally. Of course this affair of Miss Harrison is yours, not mine,and I shan't mention it again, unless Miss Ferris decides to make itpublic, as I don't believe she will. By the way, I wonder if you knowthat Miss Harrison can't graduate with us."

  "You mean that she has been caught stealing before?" asked Eleanor.

  "Oh, no, but she couldn't make up the French that she flunked atmidyears, and she must be behind in other subjects, too. I heard rumorsabout her having been dropped, and last week I saw the proof of ourcommencement program. Her name isn't on the diploma list."

  "Oh, I believe I'm almost glad of that," said Betty softly. "It'sdreadful to be glad that she has failed in every way, but I can't bearto think that she belongs in our class."

  So it was Miss Ferris who met the Blunderbuss in Eleanor's room thatnight, who managed the return of the stolen property to its owners,with a suggestion that it would be a favor to the whole college not tosay much about its recovery, and she who, finding suddenly that thenoise of the campus tired her, spent the rest of the term at MissHarrison's boarding place on Main Street, where she could watch over thepoor girl and minimize the risk of her indulging her fatal mania againwhile she was at Harding. She was nonchalant over having been caughtstealing, but her failure in scholarship had almost broken her heart.She had worked so hard and so patiently up to the very last minute inthe hope of winning her diploma that, on the very morning of thehoop-rolling, she had been granted the privilege of staying on throughcommencement festivities and so keeping her loss of standing as much aspossible to herself. After listening to Betty's and Eleanor's storiesand talking to Miss Harrison herself, Miss Ferris was fully convincedthat the Blunderbuss was not morally responsible for the thefts she hadcommitted, and so she was unwilling to send her home at once and thusexpose her to the double disgrace that her going just then wouldprobably have involved. So she found her hands very full until thegirl's mother could be sent for and the sad story broken to her asgently as possible.

  It was the one unrelieved tragedy in 19--'s history; there seemed to beabsolutely no help for it,--the kindest thing to do was to forget it assoon as possible.