CHAPTER V
THE THANKSGIVING PARTY
Betty was sitting on top of the grand piano on the platform in theAssembly Hall, kicking her feet and sucking a very large lemon by meansof a stick of candy used as a straw.
"Thanksgiving comes but once a year," she chanted to no one inparticular, adding, with a heartfelt sigh to give the words emphasis:
"Thank goodness."
"Why so grateful?" questioned Florence Guile pausing in the act oferecting a would-be gypsy tent out of a miscellaneous assortment ofshawls. Then, attracted by the gurgling sound of Betty's lemon, shestraightened up, and pointing an accusing finger, demanded:
"Betty Thompson, are you daring to suck the lemon we were saving towrite the fortunes with?"
"Well, yes I am," Betty admitted, dodging under the piano and smilingimpishly from this point of vantage.
"Now, Florence, you are selfish," she teased; "it's bad enough having noThanksgiving vacation, but after the way I've worked my fingers to thebone for you, you shouldn't, no, you really shouldn't begrudge me alemon."
Florence tried hard not to smile in the face of Betty's mournfulexpression, and made an attempt at rescuing the stolen fruit.
The above took place at ten o'clock on Thanksgiving morning. TheAssembly Hall was filled with busy girls, and it was evident thatpreparations of some kind were under way.
Owing to an epidemic of mumps the girls had been kept in school over theholidays, and for their amusement, and to ward off any chance of themore serious epidemic known as "homesickness," the Seniors had beenbidden to entertain.
Florence, having unsuccessfully pursued Betty twice around the hall at arate highly unbecoming a dignified Senior, paused for breath, and Lois,Polly and Angela, who had watched the chase with interest, came to herassistance, and captured the lemon from the now unresisting Betty.
"Here it is, at least what's left of it," said Lois, presenting it toFlorence. "And we've finished the spider web in History room. What elsecan we do for you!"
"Thanks, ever so much," Florence replied. "That settles the littlechildren, they will be in there by themselves. Now if you'll onlystruggle with that tent, I can't make it look like anything."
"Don't worry about it, I think I can," Lois assured her, "it's for thegypsies to sit in and tell the fortunes, isn't it!"
"Yes, but it will never be large enough," Florence responded dolefully.
"Well, let them sit at the door of it," suggested Angela; "that will bejust as picturesque and not nearly so hot."
Florence looked with admiration at the girls before her.
"What wonders you are," she said. "You've done all the work so far, it'slots more the Freshmen's party than the Seniors'."
"But you and Louise can't be expected to do it all," replied Polly,decidedly. "And you know you're the only two that count," she added,lowering her voice so that the other Seniors, who were willingly, butunsuccessfully, attempting the decorations at the other end of the room,would not hear her.
Florence, a little confused at such frank praise, said hurriedly:
"Well, you're dears to do it anyway and now, if you'll do something withthat tent I'll fly to Louise. I promised to help her with thosefortunes. We have to write one for every girl, and it will take ages."
"Poor dear, and to think I sucked up half the lemon," said Bettycontritely. "I'll go get you some milk, it's just as good," shefinished, starting for the door.
"You can't," Angela called after her. "The storeroom's closed."
Betty, already out of the room, whirled around on one toe, and holdingto the side of the doorway for support, poked her laughing face aroundthe corner.
"Then, I'll steal it from the cat," she said.
For the rest of the morning, Angela and Polly, under the able directionsof Lois, who was undoubtedly very artistic, worked over the tent andsucceeded in making it look quite habitable.
"It's not perfect but I guess it will do. I wish we could get a bigkettle," Lois said, as she stood off with her head on one side to getthe effect.
"Well, can't we," questioned Polly. "There's sure to be one in thekitchen."
Angela, who was busy with the finishing touches, remarked hopefully:
"The lights will be dim tonight and that ought to help."
Lois walked to the edge of the platform and asked some of the Seniorswho were still busy at the other end of the room, to come and see if thetent was all right.
After they had eyed it critically, and suggested one or two unimportantchanges--thereby asserting their superiority--they pronounced it perfect.The three girls sat down for a well merited rest.
In the mean time, Florence and Louise, in the latter's room, wereracking their brains over the fortunes.
Before the lemon was used up, Betty appeared with a half a glass ofmilk, but she absolutely refused to tell where she had found it.
"Well, it doesn't much matter anyway, as long as it wasn't the cat's,"Louise laughed, giving up trying to discover. "But now that you're hereyou may as well stay and help us with these things."
"My massive brain is at your service," Betty replied, flopping on thebed, and preparing to make herself thoroughly comfortable.
"Haven't you done any of them yet?"
"Dozens," answered Florence, "like 'you will grow wise and wax fat' thatwill do for anybody, but some of the girls must have special ones."
"Who are they?"
"First, there's Mary Reeves."
"Oh! say she'll make the team her first year in college," suggestedLouise.
"Who next?"
"Madelaine Ames, what about her?"
Louise looked puzzled.
"The professors refused to teach her music any more," said Betty,doubtfully. "Says she's incorrigible--like that, through his nose."
"Good, we'll say she will go on a concert tour, and take the world bystorm. Now who?"
"Well, there's Agnes Green," Louise hesitated.
Agnes was one of the Seniors, with little or no popularity; a girl,lacking the essentials of a leader, and yet always refusing to conformor follow. Seddon Hall called her a grouch, and passed her by.
"Ugh! I hate her," exclaimed Betty; "leave her out."
The two older girls exchanged glances. They agreed heartily, but loyaltyto their class-mate kept them silent.
"We can't, she's a Senior," Louise said quietly.
"Well then, condemn her to a horrible end with my love," Betty replied.
Florence ruffled her hair and looked thoughtful.
"She's rather fond of the boys," she said. "We might say that she willbe the first in the class to marry."
"Weak," Louise criticized, "but it will do. Now who?"
"Luncheon, by the sound of that," laughed Florence as the big gongsounded in the lower hall.
"We'll have to finish these later--come on." And after a hasty dab attheir hair, they hurried out to join the line.
Thanksgiving dinner was a very jolly affair. Each table was decoratedwith flowers and fruit, and each had a turkey to itself.
Mrs. Baird had her soup with the Seniors; her turkey with the Juniors;her salad with the Sophomores; her dessert with the Freshmen; and hercoffee and nuts with the faculty.
It was noticeable that each table enjoyed itself the most and laughedthe heartiest during the course that she ate with them.
The afternoon passed quickly, and by six o'clock the girls and facultywere all tramping into the Assembly Hall, that in the dim shaded lightresembled a wooded dell, fit background for the gypsy camp that occupiedone end of it.
Supper consisted of chicken salad, all kinds of sandwiches, cake,lemonade and ice cream. Just the sorts of things it's fun to eat,sitting on the floor, picnic fashion.
In spite of the big dinner, every one ate heartily.
By eight o'clock the musical program was over. Edith Thornton's littleIrish Songs received their well merited applause. Two or three amusingrecitations were given and then the fortune telling began.
Th
e younger children were sent into the History room to entangle thespider web of every color twine that wound in and out all over the room.Every child was given her end of her color string, and they at once setout to discover the prize hidden somewhere, and tied firmly to the otherend.
In the big room, some of the lights were put out and the girls sat inhushed groups talking in whispers.
Every once in a while, a Senior dressed as a gypsy would single out agroup and lead it to the camp, where Louise and Florence as fortunetellers would select their fortunes from a big black pot (Polly'sdiscovery) and read it out in a sing-song voice. If it was one of thespecial ones, it would be received with peals of laughter from thelistening girls.
Angela, Connie, Lois, Betty and Polly sat in a circle in one corner ofthe room. They completely surrounded and hid from view what had been thechoicest plate of cakes.
Polly looked with admiration at Betty as she finished her seventh piece.
"Bet, dear," she asked, "how do you manage to eat so much. The rest ofus are birdlike beside you."
"I concentrate," was the reply, "it's really very simple."
"Will some one kindly divert her attention elsewhere for a while then,"Angela requested, "for there's only one piece left and I mean to haveit."
The others, as soon as they too perceived this lamentable fact, made afrantic dive for the dish, but just who would have carried off the prizewill never be known, for at that moment, one of the gypsies, catchingsight of the group, called to them:
"You're wanted on the platform. They are waiting to tell your fortunes,hurry up."
Scrambling to their feet, the girls followed their guide to the tent andwaited.
Very slowly Louise stirred the contents of the black pot, and silencefell upon the room as she held up an apparently plain sheet of whitepaper.
"Betty Thompson," she chanted, and after holding the slip over a candleuntil the words written in milk appeared brown and mysterious, she read:
"You will become a famous Latin scholar, but you will die an early deathfrom indigestion."
Roars of laughter greeted this prophecy, for all knew how Betty hatedLatin.
Florence Guile read the next.
"Connie Wentworth," she droned, "you will make a world wide reputationas an actress, starring first as Lady Macbeth."
The old girls understanding the allusion to Connie's escapade of theyear before were delighted. Then came Angela's fortune and Louise readit with a smile.
"Upon reaching your second childhood, at the age of eighty-two, you willbegin a strenuous and athletic life. Basket-ball and paper chases willbe your chief joy."
"What a doom," groaned Angela, as she staggered from the platform amidhearty cheers.
Florence nearly burned up Lois' fortune which came next, and had somedifficulty in reading it.
"You will achieve success as a great artist and excel in stage settings.You will have one friend of whom you will never tire," she finallyannounced.
"I engage you at once," cried Connie, when the laughter subsided. "Youcan design all the scenes for my plays."
"That's easy," Lois retorted. "All you need is a staircase, a nightgownand a daub of red paint."
"Polly Pendleton," announced Louise, and the girls stopped talking atonce, "you will become a Joan d'Arc and plan successful marches for manyarmies, after having been selected captain of basket-ball in your Senioryear and leading the team to brilliant victories."
"Mercy! all of that?" gasped Polly, half laughing, half serious.
The girls clapped and cheered her until Mrs. Baird mounted the platform.
"I think," she said, "this has been a splendid Thanksgiving. I'm surewe're all very grateful to the Seniors. I can't say I wish all thefortunes to come true, for that would be a calamity, but I hope the niceones will, and now, good-night."
The party was over, and the girls swarmed through the door laughing andtalking.
Polly and Lois found themselves alone in the Assembly Hall. It lookedstrangely bedraggled and lonely, like a starched party dress after theparty.
They started for their rooms together--Lois said:
"Well, it's all over, but wasn't it fun?"
"Rather, the fortunes were great."
"Yours was the best of all."
"Yours is more likely to come true."
"They both might."
They separated at Polly's door and entered their own rooms.
Among the many things that filled their thoughts, the fortunes were soonforgotten. They did not know that at a future date, Polly, after threesplendid years at Seddon Hall, and Lois, after a longer time, would lookback with amusement tinged with wonder, at the truth of those samefortunes.