Across the Campus: A Story of College Life

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Contents

I. The Watchebs over Hakland .... i

II. Freshuen Experiences ........ 17

III. The' Weasinc of the Gkeen 31

Chapter I The Watchers Over Karland

It was a hot September afternoon, and in a pleasant third-story room of Mrs. Hemp's " Boarding-House for College Students," two prls were engaged in a lively discussion.

They had arranged both beds to suit one of them — no two room-mates ever entertained the same view with regard to the position of their beds — and had shifted the poor lame wash-stand but five times, although it had shed a castor at each one of these journeys, save the last, and would gladly have contributed another, had it not become reduced in circumstances. At present the intensity of their discussion was increased by the fact that Ruth had just upset a box of tacks, and Christine had stepped on them,

" That was a cowardly onslaught 1 " cried the victim, spinning around on one unhappy toe. " There is n't a thing about college that I Uke so far, although it doesn't begin till to-morrow; and I had on my thin slippers too I "

" Sit down on my bed, and pick the tacks out of the soles, please, Chris," was the unsympathetic answer. "I must have them to put up these photographs with."

Christine followed the suggestion, but meanwhile relieved her feelings by reviling the dimensions of the room.

"We have a beautiful view," said Ruth, looking out at the far-away river, and the blue hills which lay dreamy and warm in the afternoon sunshine.

" Yes, we can keep a view, because it 's out of doors," said Christine, stubbornly; "we may have to put the piano lamp out there too. Possibly we shall be tempted to move out ourselves. Just took at that tack on the floor; what a shadow it casts I "

" Silly girl," said Ruth, amiably, " where do you tiiink I had better hang ' Madame Le Brun et sa FiUe,' — between the two windows?"

" Do not venture to address me," was the stem retort ; " this is the thirty-first that I have removed from the toe alone I "

Ruth moved about the room in obedient silence, unpacking the teacups from a " pocket-edition " bathtub, dusting books, and placing them according to size in a genial bookcase of sunny brown, along the middle ledge of which was printed in chalk, " Les hommes sont m^chants, mais leurs livres sont bons."

" I don't see why we could n't get on the campus this year, anyhow," said Christine, dismally. " My father's a Senator; and, besides, he has a white beard. I don't see how the Registrar dared tell a man with a white beard that there wasn't room for his daughter on the campus."

" Christine, you 're too ridiculoas," laughed Ruth ; " you know that people have to apply months and sometimes years beforehand to get rooms on the campus. Now, dp you happen to remember where you put the picture wire, and those hooks that we bought tlus morning? "

" Nothing in this world ever happens," said Christine, solenmly. "If I remembered at all, it would be the result of deUberate forethought."

Ruth searched patiently through the nviscellaneous heap of things which adorned the floor, and finally found the wire in a shoe-bag.

"Z put it there so that we could find it easily," explained Christine, coming to the rescue. " Now, Ruth, listen to what I say, for I 'm obliged to be firm. Yoo are not going to hang these pictures, and neither am I. How are they going to be hung? I shall don my new shoes, which are too tight about the waist, sally forth, and engage an Afiican for the purpose."

" Engage a man for a little thing like this? Why, Chris, how perfectly absurd I You forget that I 'm used to doing everything for myself."

" Down in the shop of Fhipps, the storage man," said Christine, dropping her voice to a whisper, " is a dark accomplice, and him will I bring and lay at the feet of my lady dear."

" Oh, -Chris I " protested Ruth, in horror, " please don't bring any miscellaneous kind of a creature up here without asking Mrs. Hemp if it's all right 1"

" It is all right," said Christine, beginning to button her boots, "and in addition to its other charms, it has a naturally curly nose."

"Oh dear," said Ruth, disconsolately, "I wish your father had n't gone back to Burlington, or that your mother was here to settle you."

" My child, you speak as if I vere a pot of ob* atreperous coffee, and my mother a well-meaning but absent egg; and such sentiments are very, very wrong. Now put on your hat and come."

But Ruth still hesitated. " What is that noise out in the hall?" she said, going to the door. "Oh, Chris, I believe Miss Carey's trunks have come at last, and she 's gone down town. What shall we do about them?"

Christine listened, and heard an irregular heaving and bumping upon the stairs, accompanied by a terrific struggling, and the sound of pfunt which is being gently but firmly removed from \he boards where it was wont to linger.

"Do?" she said coolly; "why, nothing. What should we do?"

But Ruth was already out in the hall, showing the men Miss Carey's room, and paying the express charges herself, — a proceeding to which Christine strongly objected.

"You see, it will cause that girl to have tender associations connected with us," she began, and then, catching sight of the negro who accompanied the expressman, she joyfully exclaimed, " By my life, 'tis the accomplice himself, and come hither in the nick of time ! Knter, African, and hang my pictures."

The negro boy grinned, and promptly obeyed ; the pictures were soon hung, and tjie bureau shifted into a new position.

" I liked it very well as it was," explained Christine ; " but you see it is well to get all such heavy work done while we have a man here."

The ^rls put the finishing touches to the room, and sat down to admire their work ; while the African, who had been meekly standing upon the radiator, be^ed leave to descend, and departed with his fifty cents.

" It does look pretty well, does n't it? " said Ruth, with a sigh of satisfaction; and so it did. The screen and the little tea-table were of white wood, burned in sepia-like designs; and several cheerful water-colors gave an atmosphere of life to the room. There were a few cream-colored bas-reliefs, a fine etching or two, and in one corner stood an exquisite bronze statuette of the Pompeian " Narcissus." The piano lamp gave promise of soft red shadows when evening should come ; the little teakettle stood upon a doily embroidered in white and purple violets, while a few dainty teacups, hand painted with violets, were grouped around it The Yale and Harvard flags were peacefully crossed above the bookcase; for Christine had a brother at Harvard now, and an older one had graduated in the class of '89. The Yale flag was in honor of Ruth's father, who had been a famous " Bones " man in his day, and who still disappeared periodically to attend certain dinners and reunions.

"Yes, it looks as well as it ever will," admitted Christine, " and now let's go down town and get an ice-cream soda."

The giris started out, and at the foot of the hill they met Miss Carey, accompanied by a friend.

" Allow me to present a stray classmate, surnamed Reade," she said with a flourish. " I can't vouch for her ancestry or private character, but she 's treated me to an ice-cream soda, and I 'm her friend for life. Hurrah I "

Miss Carey was a lively Kentucky girl, mth Irish tendencies, and an irresistible twinkle in her eyes. 5

"It was awfully good of you to see about my trunks, Miss Burritt," she said, when Ruth had informed her of their arrival, " and I reckon that one of them contains something to reward you for this cheerful self-sacrifice. Drop into my room after supper to-night, and you '11 Had me the solid rock in an acid world. Come along, Miss Reade. Ladies,! bid you a fond good-afternoon."

" What an abominable girl I " said Christine cheerfully, as they pursued their way. " I wonder if they 're all going to be like that"

" No, I don't believe so," said Ruth ; *' and besides, I rather like her, in spite of her funny ways. I think she 's bright."

" She 's gregarious," said Christine, gloomily. "They're all gregarious; but I don't intend to consort with them."

Christine had always done exactly what she liked, bad everything that she wanted, and had come to college merely to escape something that she did not want, which was " society."

" Oh, Christie, I was looking forward so much to having you come out in Washington when you were eighteen I " said her pretty little mother with a sigh, when the plan was first proposed.

" But, mamma, I don't want to come out, and be turned loose to graze in society like any cow," was the discouraging reply. " If ever I am out, it will be because I was shot out, not because I came; " and Mrs. Arnold looked deeply grieved.

But the Senator and his boys held a solemn conclave in private, decided that Christine " had a head on her," and should go to college if she liked. So 6

Mrs. Arnold gave her consent, provided that Ruth, Christine's best fHend, would go with her, and there was some difficulty about sparing Ruth, because her mother was delicate, and there were younger children ; but finally Dr. Burritt yielded to supplication, and the two girls finished their college preparation together.

" The Alma Mater Is n't at all imposing in appearance, is it ? " said Christine, as they walked down Elm Street, under the shadow of the stately trees, which sent down sunny Bickerings of light and seemed to be saying, " We, at least, are as imposing as one could wish."

" No, it is n't unusual in any way," said Ruth, simply, "but I think I am going to love it."

Every now and then the girls would meet an anxious mother, accompanied by a timid Freshman, who regarded them with shy eagerness as they passed.

" Gregarious I " said Christine, as she solemnly surveyed each new specimen, " hopelessly gregarious ! "

Ruth did not answer, for, to tell the truth, she was not quite sure what " gregarious " meant, and always confused it with " amphibious."

When they reached Henley's drugstore, they found a number of girls eating ices around the cool marble counter, within reach of the wind which came from a revolving fan overhead.

" This is our first ice at college, Christie," said Ruth, with enthusiasm; "now, what had we better take? What have you that is good?" she asked, turning to the clerk.

A ^rl who was sitting near looked up pleasanUy, and said: "If you have just come to South Harland, you really ought to try a strawbeny ice. Henley is &mous for his strawberry ices, and everybody takes them."

Christine stepped forward with dignity. " Vou will g^ve us two chocolate ice-cream sodas, if you please," she said distinctly) and the pretty Junior subsided with a look of surprise.

" I don't think you were quite polite to her," said Ruth, as they left the store ; " she bad oo a sweet hat, and she looked like a nice girl."

" It is very hypocritical to pretend to like people when you don't," objected Christine.

" But you don't know anjrthing about her," answered Ruth impatiently, and had the wisdom to add nothing more ; for was she not proud to have tt swd at home that she could " get along with Christine better than any one else "?

It is to be observed that two people are very likely to get along well together, when one of them has her own way in everything I And while Christine was a gifted, tempestuous young person, whose character was often its own refutation, Ruth was one of those delightful people who have no talents themselves, but who find ample employment in repairing the mischief made by those who have.

" We must lay in a store of provisions in case we have callers," Ruth said, as they passed a grocery store; so they stopped and invested in a bottie of Crosse & Blackwell pickles, some Dundee strawbeny jam, a tin of biscuits, and a bottie of Queen olives.

" Now I begin to feel settled," she added gleefully,

as they turned towards home. " But we might just as well have carried up the things ourselves. They were n't at all heavy."

" What ! go along a public thoroughfare, clasping a load of groceries?" said Christine, with superiori^. " I never did such a thing in my life."

When they reached the house the supper-bell was ringing, and they filed into the dining-room, accompanied by several other Freshmen who looked too frightened to speak, although they may have been merely suffering from reserve. It was a very silent meal, broken only by the chatter of several " old g^rls " who sat together, and by the time-worn remarks of Mrs. Hemp, who presided at one end of the table. Christine was put beside a bright-looking Sophomore, who might have been interesting, but received no encouragement, Kathleen Carey came in late, and was seated between two classmates whose silence effectually quenched her. Ruth, however, took an interest in all these new companions, and devoted herself to her little neighbor, who was a sweet child with large brown eyes, and a homesick look that went to one's heart.

After supper the girls collected on the back piazza to look at the mountains, which were still more beautiful in their evening glow; and Ruth's little neighbor said, "They are very, very lovely and comforting, are n't they ? I feel as if they would be my friends."

" They mil help us to be good," answered Ruth, sofUy. " How nice it is that there are two of them ! I believe that even a mountain would be lonely sometimes, if it had no friend."

The hand of the small girl trembled a moment in hers, and Ruth said: " Come to the railing, and let's talk about them a little while. There, jump up here, and I '11 put my arm around you so that you can't fall off. What do they remind you of — those great mountains? They seem to me like sentinels pacing the river bank, and although they have stopped for a minute now, I am sure that they will march on again to-night after we are all asleep."

" Oh, I don't believe that they would leave us," said the small girl, wistfully ; " to me they are not like sentinels, but guardian angels. I think," she added, half to herself, " that they are watching over Harland ! "

"Watchmen are they?" asked Kathleen Carey, who had come up behind her. " Well, look out that they don't spring a rattle on you some day. That 's Rattlesnake Ledge up there on Mt. Gwynn, where Holmes sat when he wrote ' Elsie Venner.' "

"Oh, is that true?" asked some of the girls in surprise, and a friendly Sophomore said, —

" I doubt if Holmes wrote his book under the personal supervision of the rattlers, but that is really supposed to be the Rattlesnake Ledge of ' Elsie Venner.' The whole country around here is full of interesting associations. This house, for instance, used to be a school kept by Bancroft the historian, and afterwards, when it was a hotel, Jenny LJnd stopped here for some time. We often think that her spirit comes back to tip over our water-pitchers."

" Oh, how interesting I " said the girls. " Do you know of any more associations?"

" J, G. Holland's story of ' Katrina ' was located in old Hadley," continued Miss Robinson, " and there is a tree in our own campus that was planted by him

.,yCt.)i.i'^lc when he was here as a boy. It used to be called * Jamie's tree/ but now everybody has forgotten which one it is."

" Why, I thought that the college was n't founded at that time," said one of the Freshmen, looking puzzled.

" And so it was n't, but Holland used to work for Judge Storey when the whole campus was nothing but Judge Storey's back yard. Then, when the college was started, this house was bought for a dormitory, and now presides like a white-haired grandmamma over its many descendants."

Kathleen Carey had dafihed into the hall, and now returned with a copy of the " South Harland Gazette," which she waved triumphantly in the Mr,

" Friends and fellow-classmates, listen to this ! " she procl^med. "' Largest number of Freshmen on record I The town of South Harland opens its arms to an entering class of two hundred and sixty-four I Difficulty about finding accommodations for all, in the city limits ! The following list of names has been obtained from the College Registrar, by Our Special Correspondent I ' Now, girls, hold up your hands as your names are called." And a movement of interest went through the littie group.

"'Adams, Beatrice Benedict, Richmond, Va,'nice literary name, warranted straight from ' Much Ado about Nothing.' Any one claim it? Going, going, gone I 'Adams, Lydia Makepeace, West Harmony, Maine. Adams, Pomona Bufkins, Tombstone, Arizona. Allen, Amethyst Eliza, Holyoke, Mass.' "

A blushing Freshman raised her hand, and speedily put it down again, hoping that no one had noticed it.

" Welcome to our midst, Miss Allen," said Kathleen, with a bow ; " make ready to welcome me to your midst later on. ' Appleyard, Araminta Daisy, Squaw Hunk, Wy. Arnold, Christine, Burlington, la.'"

" Christie, how can you be so stiff? " whispered Ruth, giving her room-mate a shake, and adding indignantly, " This is Miss Arnold, girls, although perhaps you knew it before."

" Ah I " said the Sophomore who had sat beside Christine at the table ; " you must be the daughter of Senator Arnold, then, aren't you? Mrs. Hemp said one was to be here,"

" I am Senator Arnold's only daughter," said Christine, with dignity, and Miss Gilbert was audacious enough to laugh.

" I 'm sure I beg your pardon," she said, " for intimating that you might have a sister; and yet many nice people do have sisters, you know, and are still respected by their friends."

From that moment Christine condemned Maude Gilbert as a superfluous member of society.

"There has been a digression!" said Kathleen, peering over the top of the paper. " Parties will please return to business."

The next person who responded to the roll-call was Ruth Burritt, and then came Miss Carey herself, who said that, as circumstances prevented her fromraising her hand, she would rely upon the testimony of all to prove that she was present.

"'Deland, Clare Edmonds, HilLside, N. Y.,'" was read ; and the little brown-eyed girl said shyly, " I 'm that one,"

The last name that found an owner on the back piazza belonged to Fhilippa Fairbank, of Kalamazoo, Mich., a serious young person who looked (to quote one of the Seniors) as if she would go in for Heathen Missionary Work, and organize a new* Needlework Guild.

" Now for a choice r^sum^," said Kathleen, irreverently. " ' Elizabeth French Dane, Walla Walla, Wash.' What a plaster of nationalities 1 ' Edith Horton Standish, Boston, Mass.' Born in Beacon Street, died — no — came over in the 'Mayflower.' 'Katie Maria Dervish ' — Hurrah I named for Grandma — "

" Clare Edmonds Deland," from Hillside, N. Y., stole away very quietly, and went upstairs to her room, where she hunted through her hand-satchel for another handkerchief, and sat down by the open window. She had taken her mother to the train that afternoon, — a slender, brown-eyed little mother, who did not look much older than Clare herself, — and the two had never been separated before. They had tried to tell funny stories and be cheerful when the time for parting came, but it was hard work, and each had cried when the other was out of sight.

Clare sat looking sorrowfully at her new trunk, which seemed in some mysterious way to be responsible for all the mischief. They had been such a happy little family at home, just mother and Ethel and Clare, and because there were so few of them, they had always felt like loving each other a g^eat deal.

" Perhaps I 'd better unpack my trunk," she thought tremulously, "and then maybe I won't think about what mamma and Ethel are doing this evening."

Mrs. Deland bad taken out all the dresses that would crush easily, and hung them up in the closet; but she thought that it might amuse and divert Clare to unpack the rest of her trunk when she was alone.

She sat down on the floor now, and began to lay the carefully folded underclothes in a lower bureau drawer- She remembered so well the day when her mother had marked them, printing the letters very carefully in indelible ink, while Ethel stood by with a hot iron to press the name into each little garment as it was ready. Clare had not been allowed to assist in any of the preparations, not even to sew the tapes on the stockings, and it had all been great fun ; but now, as each familiar thing came out of the trunk, it seemed to bring a fresh heart-ache with it She felt quite comforted on finding the little red clock, which ticked sociably away, inside a flannel petUcoat and did not seem to mind coming to college a bit. But when she took out other home-connected things, like her card-case, with the three birds on it, and the china dog that had stood on her table for so many years, they had a homesick and out-of-place look liiat made her feel more desolate than ever. The climax of woe was reached when she discovered a beautiful box of molasses candy, which Ethel had made as a surprise and tucked into the trunk at the last minute.

" Oh, how dear in them, how dear I " said Clare, and two sudden tears fell down upon the cover of the box, which was a second-hand Huyler box, tied up with blue ribbon; a third tear had lodged in the dimple of her chin, but she did not know it

" I think I will take those girls some of my candy,"

she thought, " because mamma says that when yoa are very, very unhappy you must always try to do something nice for somebody else, and then you forget how unhappy you are."

She took the box, and tapped gently on Ruth's door, feeling sure that Ruth would accept the little gift as it was meant, and perhaps say something kind, to make her feel less lonely.

"Come in," called somebody; and Clare found Christine reading alone, with the red glow of the lamp on her face and hair.

" I beg your pardon," she faltered, " but I thought that you — and Miss Burritt, and you both, you know, might like some candy. My sister made it, and put it in my trunk for a surprise."

Christine leaned back in her chair, and looked at the small intruder with a decidedly bored expression.

" You are very kind," she said stiffly, " but we are fairly overwhelmed with candy at present. Miss Carey has just been in to gfet my room-mate, and has promised us a pound of Huyler's at least You had much better eat yours yourself."

" I am sorry," said Clare, the tears springing to her eyes ; and having said " good-night," she hastily slipped back to her own little room, thinking that " I am sorry " was not at all an appropriate thing to say.

" But I am so afraid of that tall girl with the flashing eyes," she thought " I know that she will never like oic, and I shall be afraid to go into their room again. Oh, mamma, mamma, I wish you were here I " and Clare threw herself down on the bed, to wrestle with that first great misery of home^ck'

ness, which we all find hard to bear even when we are more than seventeen years old.

Later in the evening came another surprise, for, pinned to the sleeve of her new pink wrapper, was a little note that had been written by somebody else who was lonely to-night, somebody who had sent her baby away from her because she thought that it was right

My own daslinc Child, — When yoti find this, I am afraid that you will be wanting me very much, and not more, my dearest, than I shall be wanting you. But we can never be really separated, you know, while we think of each other. And if I believe you are happy, you know that I shall be very happy too.

Here there was a slight disturbance in the ink, and then came : —

Good-night, my own brave little Clare- It was not easy for Clare to be brave after she had read this, and she lay awake for a long time, wondering about many things. A bar of moonlight crept in through the blinds, and she thought of the gleaming river, and of her friends the mountains, that were watching through the night. And then she fell asleep, with her hand on the dear note, and the tears on her lashes, like a child that is lost and fat from home.

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When the rising-bell rang the next morning, Clare had been standing by her window for several minutes, looking out at.the mountains. " They are lilce great beautiful birds, with wings of blue and gold," she thought, " and perhaps some day, if I am very good, I shall hear their song."

Before she was ready, Ruth Burritt knocked at the door to see if she would like to walk down to chapel with them, and Clare was very glad to accept the invitation. They started out after breakfast, chaperoned by Maude Gilbert, who with the greatest difficult had persuaded them not to wear gloves.

'* Every one will know you are Freshmen, if you do," she said, " and I am vety much afraid that they will smile."

Christine had put gloves in her pocket before coming downstairs, but having no desire to be smiled at, she took pains to mention that very few people would think of wearing gloves to college on such a hot day.

As the girls walked down Elm Street, the chapel bell was ringing at reg^ular intervals, and drew near like a welcoming hand stretched out to meet them.

" I 'm a little afraid," said Clare, keeping close to Ruth as they entered the side door. > 17

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" What on earth is there to be afraid of? " asked Christine, turning upon her with such scorn that the child shrank back in dismay. The broad stairway leadit^ to the chapel was thronged with girls, and there was much hubbub of enthusiastic greeting and joyous laughter.

" I wonder if any one will ever love me as much as that girl in the pink waist loves that one in the brown skirt," thought Clare wistfully, as two beaming Sophomores toiled up the steps in front of her, • holding each other's hands, and looking happily oblivious of surroundings.

"Oh, it ir so good to see you again 1" Clare heard one of them exclaim ; and her companioa responded with an impulsive hug that caused Christine to tread upon a member of the Faculty who was directly behind her.

" Such abominable sentimentalist " grumbled Chris, when she had duly apologized and inquired into the condition of the Faculty's toe.

At the head of the stairs was a large alcove, containing a bronze statue of St. George and the Dragon, which was at present adorned with several hats — one particularly jaunty sailor reposing upon the head of the saint himself. The sound of the organ stole out from the chapel, and wound about through the laughing, talking crowd.

" You can sit anywhere you like, this morning," said Maude Gilbert, as she hurried her party down the middle aisle, " but to-morrow we shall be divided according to classes."

" How much do I have to pay for my seat? " asked Ruth, in a stf^e whisper as they took their places.

" Nothing," answered Miss Gilbert, with a smothered explosion of laughter. " Here 's the hymn-book, Miss Burritt, Number 294, in the ' Laudes Domini,' — you can see the number up fliere by the organ."