Marjorie Dean College Freshman Part 12

From somewhere out on the campus the musical rhythm of chimes had begun.

They played the quarter, the half, the three-quarters of the hour, then sweetly and clearly the stroke of eleven followed. Listening to it, Marjorie felt a strange new peace of mind steal over her. Longfellow's understanding lines:

"The night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day, Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, And silently steal away."

The silvery tones had a vastly soothing effect upon her troubled spirit.

Altogether, it had been one of the most dispiriting days she had ever lived. She now hailed the ringing of the chimes as a kind of lullaby to her cares. Here was a second friend of whom she was sure she could never grow tired.

"That's eleven o'clock. Didn't those chimes sound pretty? I suppose that's the end of the limit bell here at Hamilton. If you aren't in bed when the chimes play eleven, you are a disgrace to your Alma Mater. If you aren't asleep by that time, well-you can hear 'em. I've heard them, I'm going to sleep this minute. Night, Sweet Marjoram."

"Good night, Jeremiah." Marjorie lay awake for a little, her thoughts on her father and mother. She knew that they were thinking of her and a sense of soothing warmth enfolded her, born of the knowledge of their steadfast adoration.

Marjorie awakened next morning to find the sun in her eyes and herself not quite certain of where she was. She glanced across the room to where Jerry's couch was situated. It was without an occupant. "Oh!" she exclaimed in consternation. Her eyes hastily sought the mission wall clock. It was only ten minutes to seven. Rea.s.sured, she lay still and viewed the room by broad daylight. The furnis.h.i.+ngs were pretty and comfortable. The color scheme of the room was delft blue. The walls were papered in a white mica-stripe with a plain white ceiling. A wide, ragged border of bachelor's b.u.t.tons added vastly to the dainty effect.

The two wash-stands, chiffoniers and dressing tables had j.a.panese covers of white stamped in blue figures. The hard-wood floor was covered by a velvet rug in three shades of blue, and the couch covers were also in indeterminate blues. There were two easy chairs, one willow rocker and two straight cane-seated chairs. A good sized library table occupied the center of the room. It was of black walnut and an antique. At each end of the room was a door opening into a closet, large enough to permit the hanging of wearing apparel without crowding. All the necessary effects having been provided, it remained to the occupants to supply their own individual decorations.

The entrance into the room of Jerry, her round face rosy from her morning scrub, brought Marjorie's inspection of her new "house" to an end.

"I've been looking at our new room ever since I woke up," saluted Marjorie. "It is pretty, I think. I am not used to blue, though. It matches you better than me, Jerry."

"Yes, I see it does. It's large enough for the furniture, without crowding. That's what I like about it. I believe--"

The silver-tongued chimes cut into Jerry's speech, ringing out a live little prelude before striking seven. Came the striking of the hour, a slow, measured salute to the sunny autumn morning.

"You may politely say 'excuse me,' next time you b.u.t.t into my conversation." Jerry nodded an admonis.h.i.+ng head in the direction from whence the musical sounds had come. "Funny I didn't hear those chimes at six o'clock. I was awake."

"Maybe they don't play them every hour," suggested Marjorie. "I remember when we were living in B-- an Episcopal Church near where we lived had a set of chimes installed. They started out by having them played every hour. It annoyed the nearby residents so much that they finally rang them only at six o'clock in the evening and on special occasions. They never bothered General and Captain and me. We were sorry to lose them.

It was like meeting some one I hadn't heard of in a long while to hear those good old bells last night. There are two things I love already about Hamilton. One is the campus; the other is the chimes."

"I agree with you about the campus. I don't know yet about the chimes.

Familiarity with them may breed anything but admiration." Jerry was only jesting. Such was her nature that she s.h.i.+ed at the proximity of sentiment. She had it in her to be sure, but she kept it hidden far beneath the surface.

"You had better hurry along to your bath," she now advised. "By half-past seven the lavatory will become suddenly very popular."

"I'm going this minute." Marjorie had already donned a negligee and was hastily thrusting her feet into quilted satin slippers.

As she stepped from her room into the hall, a door on the opposite side, above the room occupied by Lucy and Ronny, swung open with a jerk. On the threshold appeared Natalie Weyman. She was evidently in a bad humor, for her heavy brows were sharply drawn in an ugly scowl. Her eyes happening to light on Marjorie, her face grew perceptibly darker. With a smothered exclamation, she disappeared into her room again, banging the door. She had not even attempted a "good morning," but had stared at Marjorie as though she had never seen her before.

Not in the least impressed, Marjorie continued imperturbably toward the lavatory. She had made two discoveries, however. She knew now who had slammed the door on the previous night. She knew, too, that Natalie Weyman had no real feeling of friendliness toward her. She had heard enough from the three callers of the evening before to arraign them in her mind as leaning very hard toward sn.o.bbishness. If they were sn.o.bs, she wished to keep far away from them. Further, she had no intention of regarding Miss Weyman's call as anything but a duty-prompted affair. Not one of the three young women had extended an informal invitation to the Five Travelers to visit them in their rooms. If the select Sans Soucians expected to see herself and chums go out of their way to please, they would be disappointed.

CHAPTER XV.-THE GIRLS OF WAYLAND HALL.

In the lavatory she encountered the two students of whom Ronny had made inquiry regarding Baretti's. The black-haired girl looked at her, then nodded pleasantly. Marjorie returned the salutation with a half-shy smile which the square-chinned, sandy-haired girl shrewdly noted.

Regarding Marjorie intently for an instant, very deliberately she stretched forth a hand.

"Good morning," she said, in a rather deep voice for a girl. "Did you have any trouble finding Baretti's?"

"Not a bit, thank you." This time Marjorie's smile broke forth in all its sunny beauty. "We might have lost our way if we had not met you. We saw some girls in the rustic house as we left the Hall, but we met no others. If we had tried to find it ourselves, and turned to the left instead of the right, I don't know where we would have landed."

"Not anywhere near food; I can tell you that." It was the tall girl's turn to smile. Marjorie liked her instantly. She admired her capable chin and direct, honest expression. "You would have gone rambling along toward the Hamilton Estates."

"We saw them yesterday as we drove to the college from the station. They are so artistically laid out. I am anxious to see Hamilton Arms. I have been interested in what the bulletin says of Brooke Hamilton. We loved Baretti's. It must have been an inn, long ago. That is what we thought."

"It was," answered the brunette. She now offered her hand. "It used to be called 'Comfort Inn.' You and your friends are freshmen, I know. Miss Remson told us that there were to be five freshmen from the same town at the Hall this year. You see the Hall was fairly well filled last June with prospective sophs and a few juniors and seniors. I think only two other freshmen besides yourselves were able to get in here, this year.

We mustn't keep you standing here. I am Martha Merrick, and this is my pal, Rosalind Black. We are soph.o.m.ores. We are not so very much inflated over our high estate. You may look at us, of course, and even speak to us."

"I will try not to overstep bounds," Marjorie promised. "I am Marjorie Dean, and I am glad to meet you. I haven't yet learned a freshman's prerogatives. I must rely upon my high and mighty soph.o.m.ore sisters to enlighten me."

"We will, never fear. You may expect to see us in your room before long; perhaps this evening, if you are not busy."

"You will be welcome. We have nothing special to do this evening. We shall look forward to seeing you, and treat you with proper respect, you may be sure."

All three laughed merrily at Marjorie's a.s.surance. The two soph.o.m.ores then left her to her morning ablutions.

"'The sweetest flower that grows'" sang Martha Merrick softly, the minute the door closed between them and Marjorie.

"Isn't she, though," quietly agreed her companion. "She isn't a sn.o.b, Martha. She has gentle manners."

"Oh, I know it! What a relief to see a beauty who isn't wrapped up in herself. Did you ever see anything more gorgeous than that head of brown curls. If I wished to be further poetical I could quote numerous lines that would apply to her."

"She is lovely enough to inspire them, but she is more than that. She is a very fine girl. Depend upon it, Martha, her friends are worth knowing or they wouldn't be her friends. That's the way I read our stunning fres.h.i.+e. I hope I am right. A few staunch democratics besides ourselves and Nella and Leila are needed here to offset Millionaire Row."

Meanwhile Marjorie was luxuriating in her morning scrub, a happy little smile playing about her lips. It was so cheering to meet friendliness at last. Miss Merrick and Miss Black were far more according to her college ideals. Before she had completed her toilet several girls dropped into the lavatory. Long before this, her curls had been fastened up, close to her head. Nevertheless the strangers stared more or less politely at her. Two of them she thought she recognized as among the four she had seen at Baretti's.

About to leave the lavatory, one of the towels on her arm slid to the floor as she essayed to open the door. Some one behind her recovered it and handed it to her. Turning to thank the doer of the courtesy, she caught a flash of white teeth and the steady regard of two bright blue eyes. This was Marjorie's first impression of Leila Harper.

"I am ever so much obliged to you," she said.

"You are welcome." The other girl betrayed no special interest in Marjorie. Nevertheless Leila Harper was interested to the point of deliberately endeavoring to draw her into conversation. About to turn away, Leila spoke again. "I believe I saw you last night at Baretti's."

"I thought I recognized you as one of the students who sat at a table on the right," Marjorie instantly replied. Not a word more did she volunteer. Instinctively she recognized a difference in the stranger's manner from that of the two students with whom she had recently talked.

"Baretti's is a quaint old place, is it not?" remarked the other, a shade more cordially.

"We admired it. We were too late for dinner at the Hall last night, so we were directed there." Marjorie could not bring herself to be too casual.

"It's a good place to eat when you have a brand new check from home in your pocket. Toward the last of the month I am generally to be found at the Hall at meal-time." Her blue eyes twinkled in true Irish fas.h.i.+on and her white teeth again flashed into evidence.

"I suppose it will be the same with me before I have been here long. At home my chums and I used to part with our pocket money at a tea-room called Sargent's. Now we shall undoubtedly do our best to make Baretti rich."

"Where do you come from?" The question was asked with abrupt directness.

Marjorie answered in quietly even tones, adding a few more explanatory sentences concerning herself and chums. It had occurred to her that this latest acquaintance had engaged in conversation with her for a purpose of her own. Realizing that time was on the wing, and Jerry probably impatient at her non-return, she excused herself and pattered down the hall to her room.

"I thought you would never come back," greeted Jerry. "Have you seen the girls?"

"No; not one of them. I met those two girls who directed us to Baretti's last night. They are soph.o.m.ores. I like them. Miss Remson mentioned us to them.