CHAPTER XII--WELLINGTON EN MASSE
"Pray tell me, pretty maiden, are there any more at home like you?"This came from the spreading oak, while from the group of young pines,in a remote corner of the campus the answer wafted in vigorous girlishvoices:
"There are a few, and pretty too-to-too, to-oo-oo-oo."
It was the call to the incoming horde, on their first day atWellington.
Over in the hollow, known as the Lair, another contingent from theupper classes called out, rather than sang:
"Sing a song of Freshies ready for the fray, Open arms, oh, Wellington, and carry them away!"
A grand rush followed this challenge. The newcomers to Wellington, sometimid, some brave, but all expectantly happy, were then borne away tothe mysteries of college initiation--to the great world of advancededucation. No hazing here, just the good-natured pranks dear to theheart of every college girl, and significant in the good fellowshipestablished at the very outset of the broader school life. Came anothershout:
"Get together, all together, keep together--wow! Every little Freshie must make a pretty bow!"
This was the signal for the real carrying off, for as the freshmencomplied with the order "to bow" each was blindfolded, and carried offby a pair, or more, of strong arms, and quickly deposited in the gym.
With that dexterity for which such pranks are chiefly remarkable, thestunt was accomplished, to the sophs being assigned the task. Thepledge of college sorority restricts the publication of the actualhappenings in the sacred confines of the gym on this Initiation Day,but facts not on the program may be honorably recounted.
When Helen was ordered to sit down, she did so with such unexpectedalacrity that she sat on the college cat--Minerva by name.
No one regretted this accident more than did the cat. The howl from thegirls, and the protests from Minerva fully substantiating thisstatement. But following this incident no one else could be induced tosit down. All feared cats, fiercer cats and bigger cats. As usual withthe simple sitting down order a merry time followed. The blinded girlsalways feel they are in some unseen danger and refuse to be seated.Visions of cold lakes, high hills, soapy tubs, and even sequesteredcats, seem to possess the aspirants. Of course, when they do unbend,they always find themselves sitting comfortably in a perfectly goodseat. But Helen sat down with a bang, and this promptness won her firstgoal.
"She's a good sport!"
"A regular scout!"
"That's the sort of do-it-tive-ness!"
"Three cheers for Helen, Helena, Nellie and Nell!"
"All in favor of Nell shout!"
"Nell, Nell, ding, dong, ding!"
"She's with the Wellington's! Her hat's in the ring!" shouted, cheeredand yelled the sororities.
Thus winning the first goal at initiation, Helen, thereafter to beknown as Nell, found herself in unsought favor. The shouts and cheersof her new companions pleased none better than Jane Allen, althoughJane had done nothing to provoke the sentiment. No one in Wellingtonknew, or would know, about the scholarship. When the announcement wasmade to schools in the spring, that such an opportunity was open tothem, there was expressed keen interest, but in Wellington little ornothing was said or done to attract attention to the fact of a freescholarship. This was obviously good taste, as otherwise the winnerwould undoubtedly suffer social hardships.
As a prelude to other good times Train Day sports were carried onauspiciously. The fairness of putting the freshies "through" at oncewas apparent, as any delay, however trivial, served to develop for thenewcomers--friends or enemies. Thus it was that the up-to-date plan ofefficiency included these initial sports.
Also, it was better for the freshmen. They did not then have to goabout for days fearing accidents, either planned or spontaneous. Theywere thus saved from the horror of fasting, fearing mustard or soap;they might now look on the lake without dreading a mysterious hand inthe ducking process, and they might go to bed without specialprecautions suggesting accidental insurance policies.
After a few simple stunts, such as singing in three foreign languages,answering ten questions truthfully and reciting Mother Goose fromTucker to Horner, the new students were considered qualified to taketheir places as freshmen.
The treat of the day was the Free Lunch Spread. This consisted of atypical lunch-wagon meal. In fact, the wagons, relics of the good olddays when college raised its own supplies, had been fitted up, and fromthis portable delicatessen, coffee, rolls, hamburger and franks weredistributed. Golden rod and iron weed, the gold and purple blendingroyally notwithstanding franks and hamburgers, were bunched at theoilcloth supports, and in the middle of each wagon covering, with aright artistic hole jaggedly punched, the "counter" could be both seenand heard from the outside.
"Oh, how glorious!" exclaimed Dorothy Ripple, otherwise known as Dick."I never hoped to find college like this."
"And to get our first feed in the open without all the formalities ofgood manners," supplied Weasis Blair, who had, according to her ownstatement put into cold storage her burdensome title "Marie Louise."
"Perfectly all right to be freshie to-day," commented Grazia St. Clair(she pronounced her name like "Grawcia"). It might have beenLatin-Italian, and did not seem to euphonize with the British St.Clair. However, Grazia was a very attractive girl. She had hair thatcurled up and down, hiding the fact that it was bobbed, and she lookedout of a pair of the most wonderful topaz eyes! Everyone loved Graziaat sight. She, Weasie and Dick, formed a combine immediately, and ahappier little trio of freshmen could not be found on the campus. Allover the spacious grounds girls flitted to and fro, winding in and outof the autumn sunshine in the very best of their late summer gloriousgowns. It was a patch of summer weather always welcome to school girls,who are loath to give up pretty togs without affording school friendsan opportunity of getting a glimpse of them. The voiles, from green ofthe daintiest, to geranium of the gayest, blazed everywhere in a riotof tropical warmth and splendor.
Jane and Judith were very busy. As juniors they carried considerableresponsibility of the day's function, and to Jane, Right Guard of sophyear, descended the special honor of playing hostess to the sophs andfreshmen.
"I like our new plan immensely," Judith declared to Jane as the lattergathered up cups and saucers, and rescued spoons from leafy graves."What a wonderful class!"
Helen sidled up to the big rustic bench from which Jane was franticallytrying to gather up all kinds of paper dishes and incorrigible china.
"Oh, Jane dear," she exclaimed, "isn't it beautiful!"
"Do you like it, Nell?" asked Jane, caressing the little word "Nell"with a ring like the old-time pretty little song, "Nellie Was a Lady."
"Oh, I adore it!" enthused Helen. "And I like the American Nell. It hasa tone like the bell," and she tossed her curly head in rhythmatic swayof a silent, human song.
"We shall have to call you the girl of many names," Jane said with abright smile. "But what is movable is curable, we say in English, soperhaps some day you will have a name so famous----"
"Oh, la, la, la!" and Helen ran off to the beckoning throng offreshmen, which included Dick and Weasie. She had thus acquired morefreedom in a few hours on the campus than many would have gained indays, under more formal circumstances.
Small wonder seniors commented favorably on the "Jane Allen Plan," asthe new arrangements had been styled. That Jane had suffered tortureson her own initiation no one guessed, but that she was instrumental insaving others embarrassment was too obvious to disregard. As wasexpected, many of the old class failed to return. The close of theWorld's War had spent its baneful influence on many homes, where happyschool girls were suddenly thrust into premature womanhood, and wheregirls, hitherto closely guarded from the most trivial hardship, nowoccupied the boys' places, and willingly offered sturdy young arms toprop crushed parents under the blows dealt by Humanizing Fate.
But Marian Seaton--she whom Jane and Judith and their faction, hadstruggled so valiantly to subdue--she was ba
ck--like the proverbial badpenny.
Her hair was no longer any relation to yellow, but glowed a rich goldenbrown like early chestnuts. How do the heads stand the changes! And herwhite skin, pale to the edge of chemistry, was now pale in spots andtinted in detail. Her deep uncertain eyes, now blue and then yellow,movie eyes, as Meta Noon called them, were surely changing tone. Everyexperimenter knows hair dye afflicts the blood in color changes,affecting the eyes disastrously. Also, but it seems unkind to suggestsuch a catastrophe, hair-dye has an immediate action on the sight.Cicily Weldon could not tell time last year after one trip to New Yorkwhen her hair was "fixed up!"
"Oh, how do you do, Jane?" lisped the same Marian, coming up the pathas Jane was hurrying down. "Wasn't it perfectly wonderful?"
"Delightful," replied Jane with a show of good nature she intended tomake infectious. "Did you have a pleasant summer?"
"Yes, and no. I was on at Camp Hillton helping mamma with some war workleft unfinished. I met some lovely non-coms."
"Oh, at Camp Hillton! Only the sick are there, are they not?"
"Not all really very sick," replied Marian. "Some are merely ailing.But of course, they had been wounded," she felt patriotically obligedto qualify.
"Poor fellows," sighed Jane.
"Awfully jolly chaps," replied Marian.
Even at this early date Jane and Marian disagreed--and about woundedsoldiers!
"Dazzling little foreigner our--Nellie," too sweetly remarked Marian."Hasn't she the loveliest accent?"
"Do you think so?" almost gasped Jane. There! In spite of allprecautions that word "foreigner." What was there so perfectly fiendishabout Marian Seaton? Why should she always sing out the falsetto?
"Oh, yes, I was wondering what was her province?" she persisted.
But Jane was now hurrying down the path, scattering recalcitrant dishesas she went.
Plague that old Marian Seaton and her sneers!
"Oh, hello, Janie," called out Dozia Dalton, otherwise Theodosia."How's the Wild and Wooly?"
"Almost ready to shear," replied Jane, in as jovial a tone as Dozia hadbetrayed. "There are whiskers on the moon, and the sun has a pompadour.How's little Beantown?"
"Browning nicely, thank you!" in an invisible pun. "I had a pan justbefore I left."
Good old Dozia, always ready for a lark. No doubt she did have whatmight be taken for a "panning" previous to leaving home if sheperpetrated any of her famous jokes physically. Dozia was regarded "anawful joker" and she usually preferred the illustrated brand offunnies.
"Welcome to our city," yelled Minette Brocton. "Someone said you hadmade your debut--saw you in New York."
"Oh, hello, Nettie," called back Jane. She liked Minette, and wonderedif she had seen the "housekeepers" while that squad was on duty in NewYork.
"What are squashes fetching to-day? And have you any very nice LaFrance onions?" asked Minette in a tone full of good humor. "I wonder,Jane, you did not buy a pushcart."
"Oh, Nettie Brocton! Don't you dare tell me you saw us in New York andnever came to see us," reproached Jane.
"Couldn't find you. All I could ever see distinctly were brown paperbundles."
"Oh, Nettie, really, did you see me in New York?" Jane was coaxing now.
"No, but a friend of mine did. There now, not one more scrap ofinformation will I give you. But I love your little friend Nellie."
"I am so glad, Nettie. We need you in our ranks. Spread the call forteam play. This will surely be an eventful year."