Grace Harlowe's Second Year at Overton College

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE INVITATION

  The next morning Grace made a startling discovery. It was directly afterbreakfast that she made it. Having fifteen minutes to spare before goingto her first recitation, she decided to reread her theme. What one wrotealways read differently after one had slept over it. What seemed cleverat night might be very commonplace when read in the cold light of themorning. Grace reached for the book in which she had placed her theme.It was not there. Going down on her knees, she looked first under thetable, then under the chiffonier, then turned over the books on thetable, then, darting to the closet, searched the pockets of her longcoat.

  "Where can it be?" she cried despairingly. "I am sure I had it when Icame into the hall last night. I couldn't have lost it on my way acrossthe campus. I'll run down and ask Anne. Perhaps she picked it up and putit away for me."

  Grace hurried downstairs as fast as her feet would carry her. To her lowinquiry in Anne's ear she received a disappointing answer. Anne, who wasjust finishing her breakfast, replied that she had not even seen thetheme. She rose at once to accompany Grace upstairs. The two girlssearched in every nook and corner of the room. "I wanted to hand it inthis morning," lamented Grace. "Now I'll have to write it all overagain. I don't believe I can remember much of it, either. I'll have toexplain to Miss Duncan, too, and ask her to give me until to-morrow towrite it."

  "Perhaps it will be found yet," comforted Anne.

  "No danger of it, unless I lost it in the street. Then there's only onechance in a thousand of its turning up," declared Grace gloomily. "Idon't see how I happened to be so careless."

  "When must it be handed in?" questioned Anne.

  "This morning," answered Grace dolefully. "I'll have to rewrite itto-night and from memory, too."

  "Why don't you choose another subject?" was Anne's advice.

  "No." Grace shook her head positively. "I can do better with the oldone. I'm not going to bother about asking if any one has found it. Myname was on it. If I made a fuss over it some one might say it was onlyan excuse, that I hadn't really lost it, but just wished to gain time. Ihope Miss Duncan won't think that."

  "No one in this house would say so," contradicted Anne loyally.

  "But suppose Alberta Wicks or Mary Hampton heard of it? They mightcirculate that rumor. I hate to seem so suspicious, but an ounce ofprevention, you know. I will write it over and say nothing further aboutit." Having made up her mind on the subject Grace promptly dismissed itfrom her thoughts.

  Miss Duncan did look rather suspiciously at Grace as she related hermisfortune. Grace's gray eyes met hers so fairly and truthfully,however, that she was forced to believe the young woman's statement. Shegave the desired respite rather ungraciously and Grace took her place inclass, relieved to think she had got off so easily. That night sherewrote the theme. It did not give her as much trouble as she hadanticipated. She laid down her fountain pen with alacrity when it wasfinished and carefully blotted the last sheet. "Now I can begin to thinkabout the reception," she announced. "What are you going to wear, Anne?"

  "My new pink gown," said Anne promptly. "As long as I was extravagantenough to indulge in a new evening dress I might as well wear it. Thesophomore reception is really the most important affair of the year, tous, at least."

  "I'm delighted to have an opportunity to show off my pale blue chiffonfrock," laughed Grace. "I've been in ecstasies over it ever since it wasmade. Have you seen that white gown of Elfreda's? It's perfectlystunning. I stopped in her room for a minute last night. She was tryingit on. It's the prettiest gown she's had since she came here. Ask her toshow it to you."

  "I'm going over there now," said Anne. "I'll be back in a minute." Itwas precisely four minutes later when Anne poked her head in Grace'sdoor. "Come on into Miriam's room, Grace," she called. "She has justmade chocolate. She has some lovely little cakes and sandwiches, too.And Elfreda has something to tell us."

  Grace rose from her chair, lay down the notebook she had been runningthrough, and hastily followed Anne.

  "Have a cushion," laughed Miriam hospitably, throwing a fat sofa pillowat Grace, who caught it dextrously, patted it into shape and, placing iton the floor, sat down on it Turk fashion. Elfreda poured another cup ofchocolate, then seated herself on the floor beside Grace. "Pass Gracethe sandwiches, Anne," she ordered. "We made these ourselves. We boughtthe stuff at that new delicatessen place on High Street."

  "They are delicious," commented Grace, between bites. "I'm hungryto-night. I didn't like the dinner very well."

  "Neither did we," responded Miriam. "After dinner we went out for a walkto see what we could find, and we brought back what you see spreadbefore you."

  "I shall pay a visit to the delicatessen shop," announced Grace."To-morrow night you must come to my room for a spread."

  "I'll come to your room with pleasure," retorted Elfreda, "but not toeat. One spread a week is my limit. Now for my news. The Anarchist hasaccepted my invitation to the reception."

  "Really!" exclaimed Grace. "Do tell us about it, Elfreda."

  "I delivered my invitation after dinner to-night," began Elfreda. "Iwaited and waited, thinking some one else might invite her. I am notyearning for the honor, you know. I went to her door and knocked. Herroommate, Miss Taylor, opened it. The Anarchist sat over in one cornerof the room, studying like mad. By the way, I understand she is a digand stands high in her classes."

  "Is she?" asked Anne, opening her eyes. "Then that is one thing she hasin her favor. Perhaps we shall discover other good qualities in her thatwe've overlooked."

  "Perhaps," echoed Miriam dryly.

  "Mustn't interrupt me," drawled Elfreda. "I may become peevish andrefuse to talk."

  "All right," smiled Grace. "We accept the warning. Continue, my dearMiss Briggs."

  Elfreda grinned cheerfully. "I inquired with deferential politeness ifMiss Atkins were busy. Then the Anarchist looked up from her book,glared like a lion, straightened her eyebrows and said in that awfulvoice she owns, 'Did you wish to speak to me?'"

  Elfreda unconsciously imitated the belligerent freshman. Her audiencegiggled appreciatively.

  "I replied in my most impressive English that I did wish to do that verything," continued Elfreda. "Then I inquired tactfully if I was too latewith my invitation to the sophomore dance. Without giving her time toanswer I put in my application for the position of escort.Then"--Elfreda paused, a slight flush rose to her round face, "then shelooked me in the eye and told me a deliberate untruth. She said she hadrefused one invitation because she had not been interested in thereception, but that she had changed her mind. She thanked me and saidshe would be pleased to go. I bowed myself out without further ado, butMiss Taylor gave me the queerest look as I went. Her face was as red asfire. It was she who told me that the Anarchist had not been invited.She was afraid I might think she hadn't told the truth, but I knewbetter. Now, don't ever tell any one what I have said."

  "I'm sorry she didn't tell the truth," said Grace disapprovingly. "Whycouldn't she say that she had not been invited?"

  "False pride," commented Miriam. "She evidently isn't so indifferent tothe opinion of others as she would have us believe."

  "She is a strange girl," mused Anne. "Perhaps she is not altogether toblame for her odd ways."

  "'Odd' is a good name for them," jeered Elfreda. "I wouldn't call it'odd,' I'd use a stronger word than that. It's contemptible. I'm sorry Iasked her to go to the reception."

  "Then recall your invitation and tell her your reason for doing so,"advised Miriam Nesbit bluntly. "Don't take her to the reception in thatspirit. You will make yourself and her equally unhappy."

  "Hear the sage lay down the law," retorted Elfreda impudently. "She'sright, though, only I won't withdraw my invitation at this late date.I'll try to give the Anarchist the most exciting time of her young life,but if she balks please don't blame me. You can lead an Anarchist to areception, you know, but you can't make her dance unless she happens tofeel like dancing. Stil
l, I am going to do my best, and no sophomore cando more."

  "That sounds like the Elfreda Briggs I heard talking last night," saidGrace, smiling her approval of the stout girl's words.

  "So it does," agreed Elfreda. "Hereafter I'll try to be more consistent.As for the Anarchist, she shall reap the benefit of my vow. I hope sheknows how to dance. If she doesn't I shall have to constitute myself acommittee of one to furnish amusement for her. If on the fatal night yousee me, my arm firmly linked in that of her majesty, parading solemnlyabout the gymnasium with a fixed smile, and an air of gayety that I am along way from feeling, don't you dare to laugh at me."

  "We won't laugh at you, then, even though we can't help laughing at younow," said Grace. "We shall be only too glad to do anything we can tohelp you entertain her."

  "I know that. Maybe you can help and maybe you can't. But if she doesn'tenjoy herself it won't be my fault."