The Girls of St. Wode's Part 22

Leslie now knelt down and gazed into the face of the sleeper.

"What can be the matter with her?" she thought. "Can I find out? Is there any way in which I can comfort her? I wish mother were here. There is no doubt she is carrying a terrible heavy burden, and she won't let anyone help her. What did that letter mean?"

The sleeper moaned heavily.

"This will kill me," she muttered; "I can't stand it."

"G.o.d will give you strength, dear," said Leslie aloud. She stooped and kissed Annie on her brow, then she went back to her own bed.

During the rest of the night Leslie hardly slept, but Annie never stirred. In the morning Annie got up, looking much as usual, but having not the slightest remembrance of the little scene through which both she and her roomfellow had lived during the night.

The day's work began and continued. Annie was if possible even more a.s.siduous in her studies. She had only one lecture to attend that morning, and, the moment it was over, returned to her desk by the open window, and worked away without intermission at her mathematics.

Leslie had three lectures to go to, and was thankful for this, as she did not care to be alone in the room with Annie.

"She won't let me comfort her, and it is dreadful to see that dull look of agony and suffering in her eyes," thought Leslie.

Immediately after luncheon that day, just as the girls were preparing to leave the dining-hall, Miss Penrose, the princ.i.p.al of South Hall, who always sat at a little table with a few favored pupils, stood up and sounded a silver gong. The girls immediately stopped, turned, and faced her.

"I wish to mention," she said, "that Miss Lauderdale expects you all to come to East Hall at half-past eight this evening; the entire college is to meet there on a special and important matter. Miss Lauderdale is sorry that the notice is so brief. She begs, however, that the students, without exception, will attend to it. Those, therefore, who contemplated going out must send word to their friends that they will have to postpone their visits."

Miss Penrose then immediately left the hall, and the girls went into the central hall and stood about discussing the sudden summons.

Leslie was eagerly pounced upon by the Chetwynds, who asked her what she thought Miss Lauderdale could want with them all. Just then Annie Colchester darted past the little group, and ran quickly upstairs.

"Annie!" called out Leslie to her, "you will be sure to be ready to go with me to East Hall this evening?"

Annie made no reply.

"She heard what Miss Penrose said," remarked Eileen. "I noticed that she was standing by the door when the princ.i.p.al sounded the gong."

"All the same, she does not always hear what is said," replied Leslie.

"She lives in a wonderful and strange world of her own. I often doubt if she notices what goes on around her."

"Well, then, you had better remind her. By the way, do you object to us also coming with you to East Hall this evening?"

"I shall be very glad," replied Leslie. "I have not seen much of Miss Lauderdale yet, and am most anxious to hear her speak to-night. I wonder what she can want with us all?"

"Well, there is no good in guessing," said Eileen; "and besides it only wastes time. What do you mean to do this afternoon, Miss Gilroy?"

"I have not made any special plans."

"Well then, won't you come out on the water with us. You have pa.s.sed your swimming test, so it is all right. Belle Acheson will be with us; we should like you to know her."

Leslie promised to come, and the next moment ran up to her own room.

Annie was already seated at her desk, and bending over her endless problems.

"We ought to be ready to start for East Hall at 8.25," said Leslie as she came in. "You will be quite ready then, won't you, Annie dear? I'll put out your dress, and leave everything quite nice and neat for you."

Annie gazed full up into Leslie's face. When Leslie paused, she said abruptly:

"I do wish, Leslie Gilroy, you would not worry me."

Leslie started back, looking hurt and dismayed.

"I don't mean to worry you," she said in a low voice. "Of course if you really feel that I worry you, I had better leave you alone."

"You do annoy me dreadfully. I liked you very much yesterday, but I feel now that you are watching me all the time, and I can't stand it. Do let me alone. Aren't you going out? I know it is not necessary for you to spend all your time in study; but I am different. Do go and leave me. I don't wish to be ungrateful; but I wish you would let me have the room to myself for a little."

"I shall go by and by," said Leslie coldly. She was more hurt than she cared to own. She left Annie's window, and, going to her own side of the room, took up a novel and tried to bury herself in its contents. The other girls had promised to sing out to her, from the gravel sweep below, when they were ready. Until then, she would remain in her own side of the room, notwithstanding Annie's objection to her doing so.

Annie went on muttering to herself, rustling her papers, and turning the leaves of her books; once or twice she dropped her pen; once a moan as bitter and laden with sorrow as those she uttered in the night burst from her lips. Leslie heard the moan, and found it impossible to forget her. She felt restless and unlike herself. After a time she got up, put her book back in its place, and walked to the door.

"Ah! thank goodness you are going," said Annie.

"Don't you think, Annie, you are a little unkind to me?" replied Leslie.

"Oh, what does a little unkindness matter?" said Annie. "Do you mind, as you are leaving the room, shutting that window. I have been enduring the tortures of a draught for the last hour, and have lately been suffering from neuralgia."

"Oh, you poor thing," said Leslie, penitent at once, "why did you not tell me so, or," she added, "why did you not shut your own window?"

"Because I require fresh air," said Annie, with that utter selfishness which had characterized her before Leslie came, and which had been growing a little better lately.

Leslie went to her window and shut it, sighed as she thought how close her part of the room would be when she returned later on; and then, putting on her hat and gloves, she ran downstairs.

She was met in the hall by Lettie. Lettie was extremely popular in her own hall of residence, and had made several friends already in North Hall. She now ran eagerly up to Leslie.

"The Chetwynds say you are coming boating with us?"

"Yes," replied Leslie.

"And Belle Acheson is to be one of the party," continued Lettie. "I think it well to tell you; you must be prepared for a very peculiar person. But you look worried, Miss Gilroy; is anything wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," answered Leslie. "I am a little anxious about Annie Colchester."

"That queer, red-haired girl? I saw her in chapel on Sunday."

"There are many fine points about her," said Leslie; "but I don't think she is quite well, and I wish she would not work so hard. However, I won't think of her now. I cannot do anything to help her just at present, and I mean to enjoy myself."

"Then had not you better come down to the quay. I told the other girls I would bring you. The boat we are to have this afternoon is the Merry Alice. Did you pa.s.s your swimming test well?"

"I pa.s.sed it last week, and was crowned with honors," said Leslie with a merry smile. All her usual good spirits returned when she was out in the open air. The other girls came up, and Belle was duly presented to Leslie Gilroy. Belle was in a dark-brown zephyr dress, made in the simplest fas.h.i.+on, and a leather belt encircled her waist. On her head was a brown hat, mushroom-shaped, trimmed with a plain band of ribbon of the same color. She was drawing brown cotton gloves on her hands when the introduction to Leslie was made.

"This is our great friend, Miss Gilroy," said Eileen in an affectionate tone.

Belle adjusted her spectacles, and looked full at Leslie out of her short-sighted eyes.

"How do you do?" she said abruptly. She then turned and spoke to Marjorie.