I the get-together
II A shadow in forecast
III the misfit freshman
IV thrilling news
V threats and defiance
VI Jane and Judith
VII A queer mix-up
VIII to the rescue
IX what happened to Judith
X the interlude
XI A twice told tale
XII A wild night of it
XIII the aftermath
XIV pleading for time
XV the picket and the spook
XVI the hidden chamber
XVII “Behold the ghost of Lenox hall!”
XVIII faithful frolic
XIX the miracle
XX Touchstone
XXI cramming events
XXII startling disclosures
XXIII the dance
XXIV King pin of the freshies
XXV the day after the big night
XXVI A surprise in records
XXVII the real story
The get together.
The late September day waved back at Summer graceful
as a child saying goodbye with a soft dimply hand;
and just as fitful were the gleams of warm sunshine
that lazed through the stately trees on the broad
campus of Wellington College. It was a brave day—Summer
defying Nature, swishing her silken skirts of transparent
iridescence into the leaves already trembling before
the master hand of Autumn, with his brush poised for
their fateful stroke of poisoned beauty; every last
bud of weed or flower bursting in heroic tribute,
and every breeze cheering the pageant in that farewell
to Summer.
“If school didn’t start just now,”
commented Norma Travers, “I wonder what we would
do? Everything else seems to stop short.”
“I never saw shadows come and go so weirdly
on any other first day,” added Judith Stearns
ominously. “I hope it doesn’t mean
a sign, as Velma Sigbee would put it,” and dark
eyed Judith waved her arms above her black head to
ward off the blow.
“Is it too early to suggest science?”
lisped Maud Leslie timidly. “I’ve
been reading about the possible change of climate and
its relation to the sun’s rays going wild into
space. I don’t want to start anything,
but it might be judicious to buy more furs next Summer.
Also it might justify the premonitory fad.”
“Don’t you dare,” warned Ted Guthrie,
puffing beneath her prettiest crocheted sweater and
rolling down from her chosen mound on the natural
steps of the poplar tree slope. “It’s
bad enough to think of icy days up here, far, far
away from the happy laughing world of hot chocolate
and warm movie seats,” and she rolled one more
step nearer the boxwood lined path, “but to
tag on science, and insinuate we are to be glazed
mummies, ugh!” and the redoubtable Ted groaned
a grunt that threatened havoc to the aforesaid handsome
sweater.
“There, there, Teddy dear, don’t take
on so,” soothed Maud, rescuing the other’s
new silver pencil that was rapidly sliding further
away from Ted with the pretty open hand bag.
“I had entirely forgotten how you despise ice
sports. And you so lovely and fat for falling.
You should love ’em,” insisted the studious
Maud.
