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Grace Harlowe's Return to Overton Campus

<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> <h3>MARY REYNOLDS MAKES A NEW FRIEND</h3> "Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one and Mary Reynolds makes thirty-two. Isn't it fortunate that there was a place all ready for her?" Grace Harlowe looked eagerly up from the list of names which she had been intently scanning. "Very fortunate," smiled Miss Wilder. "I am quite curious to see your protege, Miss Harlowe." Miss Wilder, the dean of Overton College, had been genuinely glad to welcome Grace Harlowe back to the college fold. During Grace's four years as a student at Overton she had greatly endeared herself to the dignified, but kindly, dean, who had watched her pass from honor to honor with the same sympathetic interest which Miss Thompson, the principal of Oakdale High School, had ever exhibited in Grace's progress. It was now almost four o'clock in the afternoon. Grace had spent a busy two hours in Miss Wilder's office going over the applications for admittance to Harlowe House and discussing ways and means with her superior. "Do you know, Miss Wilder, that one of the very nicest things about you is your interest in one's friends and plans?" Grace regarded the older woman with sparkling eyes. "Away back in my freshman days I can remember that I never came to you with anything, but that you were interested and sympathetic." "My dear child!" Miss Wilder put up a protesting hand. "It's perfectly true," persisted Grace staunchly. "I am sure I could never have planned everything so beautifully for Harlowe House if you hadn't helped me." "But I had such a wonderful source of inspiration," reminded Miss Wilder, turning the tide of approbation in Grace's direction. "I wish I could agree with you," laughed Grace, her color rising. Then her face grew earnest. "It would make me very happy if I thought that, as the head of Harlowe House, I could inspire my girls to love Overton as deeply and truly as I do. I don't intend to preach to them or to moralize, but I do wish them to gain real college spirit. If they strive to cultivate that, it will mean more to them than all the talks and lectures one could give them. Don't you think so?" "I do, indeed," agreed Miss Wilder warmly. "Of course," went on Grace thoughtfully, "there is the possibility that some of these girls may fail in their entrance examinations. Undoubtedly they will have to take them, for no girl who applies for admission to Harlowe House will have come from a preparatory school. Naturally, they will all be high school graduates. Some of them will have scholarships and some will not. It is going to be more or less of a struggle for those who have none to earn their college fees—that is, if they haven't saved the money for them beforehand. I am reasonably certain that poor little Mary Reynolds hasn't a penny of her own, other than the ten dollars she has saved. But if she passes her examinations she can borrow the money for her college fees from Semper Fidelis. Then, too, there is the subject of rules and regulations to be considered." "A very important subject," interposed Miss Wilder. "The success of Harlowe House will depend upon its rules and their absolute enforcement." "Don't you think it would be a nice idea to draw up a little constitution and by-laws as they do in clubs. It would not cost very much to have a certain number of copies of them printed, and a copy placed in each girl's room. Oh, Miss Wilder, wouldn't it be splendid if we could form the girls of Harlowe House into a social club. It would bring them in touch with one another, teach them to be self-governing, and do an endless amount of good." Grace finished with sudden inspiration. For a moment Miss Wilder did not answer. She was evidently turning the matter over in her own mind. "It is rather an unusual idea," she said slowly, "but I should not be surprised to see it work out well. Among a number of young women who, aside from the advantages Harlowe House offers them, are practically dependent upon their own resources you are sure to find a variety of dispositions, some of them a little warped from their struggle with poverty. I should say that they could be reached and understood better by becoming members of this club, which you propose, than by any other method. Yes, decidedly, it is a good plan." Grace remained with the dean until after five o'clock talking earnestly of her new work. "Oh, dear, I can scarcely wait for the next two weeks to pass I'm so anxious to begin," she sighed, as she gathered together her gloves, handkerchief and parasol and rose to go. "Miss Dean will come to see you to-morrow morning, Miss Wilder. I'll send Miss Reynolds with her." The sun was well advanced on his daily pilgrimage down the western sky, and Grace's usually rapid steps lagged as she crossed the dear familiar campus. Her eyes strayed lovingly from the green velvety carpeting under her feet to the red and yellow pennants of autumn which the trees were flaunting so bravely. It was hard to say at which season of the year Overton campus was most beautiful. To Grace it was like some familiar friend who was constantly surprising her with new and endearing virtues. She gazed across the wide stretch of green toward Morton House. Two girlish figures were seated on the steps apparently deep in their own interests. A little farther on she met three sophomores, who, recognizing her, bowed to her in smiling admiration. Grace stopped and held out her hand with the frank cordiality which characterized her. After a pleasant exchange of greetings they passed on greatly elated over the fact that "that clever Miss Harlowe, who was the most popular girl at Overton last year," had remembered them. "We're beginning to gather home," she murmured softly. She was passing Holland House now, and it brought back delightful memories of Mabel Ashe. Her glance rested wistfully on the front door. She half expected to see it open and to see coming toward her the lithe, graceful figure of the girl whose dainty hands had been the first to grasp hers in friendly welcome, when, as an untried freshman, she had first set foot in the land of Overton so long ago. "Mabel," she breathed, "dear, dear girl! If ever I come to mean half as much to lonely freshmen as you meant to me, I shall feel that I have succeeded gloriously." Wrapped in recollections of the past, which she realized were bound to haunt her at every turn until time and work had banished her sense of loss, Grace did not hear the light footsteps of the tall young woman who bore noiselessly down upon her like an avenging fate. Suddenly Grace felt two soft, cool hands close over her eyes. "Oh!" she gasped. Then she laughed. "I know it's some one I'm anxious to see. Is it Kathleen?" The hands did not relax their pressure. "Is it Laura Atkins?" guessed Grace again. The pressure tightened a little. "I know now," cried Grace. "Why didn't I guess you first of all? It's Patience." The hands fell away from her eyes. Grace wheeled about into a pair of encircling arms. A very tall, fair-haired young woman stood looking down on her with a face full of lively affection. "I wonder if you are as glad to see me as I am to see you, Grace," was her first speech. "Every bit as glad," responded Grace with emphasis. "Emma and I have been looking forward to your coming every day since we came." "Emma?" interrogated Patience. "Do you mean to tell me that Emma Dean is here?" "Yes," replied Grace happily. "She's come back to be Miss Duncan's assistant. Isn't that splendid?" "I've been mourning Emma among the rest of the bright departed spirits," smiled Patience, "and thinking of how dull Wayne Hall will be this year without her. Emma is Emma, you know, and cannot be duplicated, imitated nor replaced. I suppose, as a teacher, she'll live in one of the faculty houses, instead of Wayne Hall." "She is going to have part of my suite at Harlowe House," said Grace. "But, before I say another word, where are you going?" "To Overton Hall to see Miss Wilder." "Can't you put off going until to-morrow morning?" asked Grace. "Yes, if you and Emma will go with me to the six-thirty train to meet Kathleen and then to dinner at Vinton's afterward." "Will we?" cried Grace. "I should say—I'm afraid we can't, Patience." Her jubilant tone changed to one of disappointment. "I forgot all about Mary Reynolds." "Who is Mary Reynolds and what did I ever do to her that causes her to conspire to cheat me of the society of my friends?" inquired Patience humorously. "Not a single thing," assured Grace brightening again. "She's the thirty-second applicant for admission to Harlowe House, but she's living there as my guest for a few days until she finds out whether she 'belongs.' Suppose you walk over there with me. I wish you to see the house before the tenants arrive. I'll tell you the strange story of Mary Reynolds on the way over. Emma's at home, so you can see her, too." "All right, I'll go, provided you and your entire family, including Mary Reynolds, escort me to the train to meet Kathleen." "Here's my hand on it," promised Grace. Patience caught it in both of hers. "It's good to be here, Grace," she said earnestly. "It's good to have you here, Patience," returned Grace, in the same earnest tone. Patience was met at the door by Emma, who had seen their approach from the living-room window, and who now pounced upon Patience and joyfully escorted her into the living-room. "The plot thickens," declaimed Emma as the three paused in the middle of the room. "Hurrah for the old guard! Like Macbeth's immortal witches, I'll perform my antic round, just to show how jubilant I feel." She executed a few fantastic steps about Patience, then paused beside her, one hand on her shoulder. "Where did you acquire Patience, Grace?" "I acquired this particular kind of Patience on the campus just a few moments ago. I have never actually acquired the other kind." "You're not the only one," murmured Emma significantly. "Where is our freshman-to-be?" "In her room and fast asleep, I suppose. Although she wouldn't admit it, I know she was completely tired out. I could see that," she added slyly. Patience and Grace smiled in quick recognition of J. Elfreda Briggs' pet phrase. "How I wish 'I could see' dear old J. Elfreda. Wouldn't it be glorious if she were suddenly to appear in the flesh," sighed Emma. "She was here with Mrs. Gray and I in August, Patience." Grace went on to relate the details of Elfreda's visit. "Emma has heard all this before. Still, you don't mind hearing it again, do you, Emma?" "I could listen to it forever, and then ask for a repetition," asserted Emma with gallant glibness. "I won't be so malicious as to take you at your word," returned Grace. "Will you tell Patience all the news while I run upstairs to see Miss Reynolds?" "I will," nodded Emma, "and tell it truthfully and without embellishments. I am not a yellow journal. I am a reliable purveyor of facts and nothing but facts." She pounded on the library table with her clenched fist to emphasize her words. "I believe you," assured Patience with mock solemnity, "and salute you as a disciple of truth." Leaving her friends to exchange confidences, Grace ran lightly up the stairs and knocked on Mary Reynolds' door. Receiving no answer, she knocked again. "She must be asleep," thought Grace. Then she turned the knob and entered the room. Surely enough the tired stranger lay on her couch bed, tranquil and slumber-wrapped. Sleep had smoothed away the lines of care and, in repose, her face looked soft and childish. "Miss Reynolds." The girl sat up with a little, startled cry. "Oh," she breathed, in relief. "I was so frightened. I forgot where I was." "Miss Dean, a friend of ours and I are going to the station to meet another friend. We wish you to go with us," invited Grace. "That is, unless you prefer to stay here. You will be all alone in the house." An expression of alarm showed itself in the girl's eyes. "I'd rather go with you, if you are sure I won't be in the way." "Not in the least. We shall start in a few moments." With a cheerful smile that elicited a faint, answering one from the other girl, Grace left the room. She was back in an instant with something blue thrown over her arm. "Here is a little coat I took out of my trunk especially for you. It is cool enough for a coat to-night. This won't be too long for you. It's only three-quarter length on me." "I—I—" stammered Mary, but Grace was gone. Mary could not help thrilling a little with pure pleasure at sight of herself in the pretty blue serge coat. "I look just like them," she murmured. "I'm so glad I came. I won't go back either, and no one shall make me." She smoothed and patted her curly hair, then putting on her shabby hat went slowly down stairs. Her momentary awe of Patience vanished when she discovered that, in spite of her dignified bearing, this tall, fair young woman was as full of fun as the droll Emma Dean. The quartette started for the station with Patience and Emma in the lead. Grace walked with Mary, talking brightly of Overton to her absorbed listener. She had just begun to tell Mary of Kathleen West, her clever work as a newspaper woman and of how her play had won the honor pin, when they arrived at the station. "Wait here while I see if the train is on time," directed Grace. The three young women strolled slowly along the platform, pausing at one end of it. "The train's on time," called Grace as she came out of the station and approached them. "It's due in four minutes. Listen! Didn't you hear it whistle?" A minute later it was visible around the bend and bearing down on the station with a great puffing and whistling. "I see her," announced Emma. "She's getting off at the upper end of the train." An alert little figure in a gray coat suit came swinging down the platform, a suit case in each hand, her keen, dark eyes scanning every face. Suddenly she caught sight of her friends. Dropping her luggage she ran forward, both hands extended. Grace caught them in hers. The two embraced, then Grace passed Kathleen on to Patience. "And to think that Emma Dean is to be one of us!" exclaimed Kathleen. "Emma, the one sure and certain cure for the blues. I didn't half appreciate you last year." A swift flush rose to her cheeks. "I didn't appreciate any one. I missed knowing Overton's best, but I'm so thankful that part of that best has come back again, so that I can really show how much I care," she finished, her eyes very bright. The little company lingered on the platform, for there was so much to be said that they were loath to move on. So absorbed were they in their own affairs they did not observe that a tall, raw-boned, roughly dressed man, with a gaunt, disagreeable face had been stealthily edging nearer the group until within a few feet of them. All at once a long bony hand was thrust into their midst. The hand landed on the shoulder of Mary Reynolds, swinging her almost off her feet. She did not scream, but her face grew white and her eyes horror-stricken. Then she wrenched desperately to free herself from the cruel clutch, gasping, "Let—me—alone. I—won't—go back—with—you." "Oh, ye won't, won't ye," growled the hateful intruder. "We'll see if ye won't. Get a move on." He half dragged, half shoved the now sobbing Mary along the platform. For an instant no one of the astonished girls moved or protested. Then a small, lithe figure flung itself in front of the brutal fellow, barring his progress. "Take your hands off that girl," commanded a tense, authoritative voice. As if in recognition of its authority the man's cruel hold on Mary's slender shoulder relaxed. Kathleen West's black eyes were blazing. With a swift forward movement she threw her arm protectingly across Mary's shoulder and drew her close. "Now," she said, her whole body tense with suppressed anger, "touch her if you dare." "Ye better git out and mind yer own business or ye'll wish ye had," threatened the man, his first feeling of fear vanishing. "Yer nothin' but a lot o' silly girls. You git along," he ordered, fixing his scowling eyes on Mary. "This little girl is going to stay with us. It is you that had better move on. If you aren't out of sight within the next three minutes I'll have you arrested for annoying us, and it won't be wise for you to come back again either." Kathleen's face, as she stood calmly eyeing her disagreeable adversary, was like a study in stone. She looked as inexorable and relentless as Fate itself, and the bully understood dimly that here was a force with which he could not reckon. "I'm a goin'," he mumbled sullenly, "but I'm a goin' to git the law on her," he pointed to Mary, "and make her git back where she belongs." By this time several persons had hurried to the scene of the encounter. Kathleen's sole reply to the threat was a contemptuous shrug of her shoulders. "Come on, girls," she said so nonchalantly that the curious ones dropped disappointedly away. Not more than four minutes had elapsed from the time the uncouth stranger had appeared until he slunk off. Emma, Grace and Patience found their voices almost simultaneously. "Well, of all things!" exclaimed Emma. "I was literally amazed to dumbness," declared Patience. "So was I for a minute, but Kathleen was so completely sure of herself that I knew it was better to be silent. She disposed of that obstreperous individual most summarily. Who is he, Miss Reynolds?" Grace turned grave eyes upon Mary. "We shall have to know all about him if we are to help you." They were now walking slowly up the street. "He's—my—uncle," faltered the girl. "Mother died last summer just after I finished high school, and I had no place to go. He wanted me to go out in the country and live on his farm. He said I could go to college, but after I went to the farm he and his wife made me do all the work, and laughed when I spoke of going to college. A nice girl I knew had told me about Overton and Harlowe House. She was in the town of Overton last commencement and heard about it. I told them I would go in spite of them, so they locked me in my room, but I climbed out the window and into a big tree, one of its branches was quite near the window, and then slid to the ground." "How old are you, Miss Reynolds?" asked Kathleen West with apparent irrelevance. "I was eighteen last week." "Then you needn't worry about your uncle. You are of age and can do as you please." "Do you mean that he can't make me leave here?" Mary Reynolds' eyes were wide with surprise and sudden hope. "Of course he can't," reassured Kathleen. "Girls, I'm going to adopt Mary Reynolds as my especial charge and help her fight her battles in the Land of College. Mary, will you let me adopt you?" Mary regarded Kathleen with shy admiration. She thought her the most wonderful person she had ever known. She was deeply grateful to Grace and her two friends for their kindness, but Kathleen's swift, efficient action on her behalf had completely won her heart. "I'd be the happiest girl in the world," she said solemnly. The next morning Grace went frankly to Miss Wilder with the tragic story of Mary's struggle to obtain an education and the attempt her miserly uncle had made to force her to return to the farm. "We shall be obliged to look into the matter," declared the dean. "Send Miss Reynolds to me as soon as possible. I must be very sure that she is all she represents herself to be. I should not care to have a repetition of the station scene later, on the campus, for instance. It would hardly add to the dignity of Overton." "I'll bring her to your office to-morrow morning," said Grace, "then you can form your own opinion of her." Mary Reynolds' wistful face was the last touch needed to completely enlist Miss Wilder's sympathy in her behalf. On the strength of the straightforward story which she repeated to the dean, she was allowed to proceed with her examinations. Meantime Miss Wilder wrote to the authorities of the little town near which Mary's uncle's farm was situated. They conducted a prompt investigation and by the time the hitherto friendless girl had passed triumphantly through the ordeal of examinations the faintest trace of objection to her becoming a student at Overton had been removed. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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