Part 11 (1/2)

”I think you ought to preside, Kit,” Charity said as she arranged the tea table more handily before the corner couch. ”It's your party, and you ought to pour.”

”Takes too much concentration,” Kit returned. ”Anne'll help you. I want to have my mind perfectly clear to manage the thing. You see, Marcelle doesn't know a blessed thing about it yet, and there's no knowing how she'll take it. Wouldn't it be funny if she got proud and haughty, and marched away from our Founders' Tea?”

”I don't think you ought to spring it until after we've had refreshments.

Food has such a mellowing effect on human nature. It's all a question of tact, though. If I were you, I'd talk to them in an intimate sort of way instead of lingering too much on the historic value. Better straighten Malcolm, over yonder; he looks kind of topply.”

Kit regarded the framed steel engraving of Malcolm Douglas almost fondly.

It had been taken from a history of early Wisconsin, together with some other founders fortunate enough to be included on the roll of honor, and had hung down in the Dean's room. Now it occupied a prominent spot specially cleared for it in the middle of the wall, and Kit had twined a long, double tendril of southern smilax around it, culled from the local florist's supply for any chance Delphi festivities.

Backed by Miss Daphne's approval and interest, Kit had called at several homes where lived the descendants of other founders, and the results were manifest. Mrs. Peter Bradbury had contributed two Indian blankets and a hunting-bag, besides an old pair of saddle bags used by her father, one of the early missionary bishops of the northwest, in his travels through the wilderness. Two fine timber wolf pelts lay on the floor, and of these Kit was specially proud. She had beguiled them from the treasure store of old Madame Giron, whose husband could still tell with fiery eyes and thrilling tone of how he had killed the animals not a quarter of a mile from the site of Hope College, in the old settler days.

From the cabinet in the Dean's room had come mostly records, old doc.u.ments carefully framed, and several letters written by the founders themselves.

”You know,” Kit said, as she gave a last touch to her exhibit, ”of course these are important, but I like the Indian and hunting things best. I wish I could run away with that double pair of buffalo horns that belonged to Dr. Gleason's granduncle or somebody. I like them better than anything.”

A quick rap came on the door, and before Charity could even call ”come in”

Peggy entered with her usual galaxy behind her, Amy, Norma, and a newcomer from Iowa, Henrietta Jinks, whom the girls had instantly dubbed ”the Jinx,” because of her infallible habit of everlastingly doing the inopportune thing.

”If it wasn't that her father was a congressman, she'd never get by with it,” Amy had said, ”but as it is, if you'll just remember that she's been reared on rhetoric and torch-light parades, you can understand that little abrupt way she has. I think it's rather interesting to be a 'Jinx,' it's so different, and the boys only have mascots. This way, it shows we have a fine, proud disregard for the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

Kit, my child, did you hear that? I'll be playing Ophelia before the New Year dawns.”

”Tony Conyers sent word she'd be ready in five minutes,” said Norma. ”I think she's dressing up as something symbolical, and she's got a lot of the girls in there with her. Charity, I think this is a perfectly stupendous idea of yours.”

”'Tisn't mine,” retorted Charity, hurtling cus.h.i.+ons handily from one couch to another in order to balance the room. ”It's Kit's. This is her party.

Her coming out party at Hope.”

”Oh, are you the founder's granddaughter?” Amy inquired, her blue eyes opening widely.

”No, precious, I'm not,” replied Kit, happily. ”I wish this minute I could mount yon rostrum, Mid declaim the feats of my ancestors. They were pathfinders and Cavaliers, but I don't know of a single blessed founder among them. Peggy, don't sit on the almonds. They're right behind you in that gla.s.s dish.”

The room filled up rapidly with members of the freshman cla.s.s, and Kit declared after she had been the rounds four times that she felt exactly like the lecturer in the curio hall in a museum, telling the history of the relics over and over again. n.o.body but Anne knew how anxious she became as the moments slipped by and no Marcelle appeared. It would never do to have a climax happen without the surprise of her presence to carry it off. The refreshments had all been served, and the little bronze dragon clock on top of the book shelves showed the hour of five, when Charity called:

”You'd better start in on your Founders' talk, Kit; we've only got about half an hour.”

There was a baffled look in Kit's eyes, as she picked up the challenge and rose from the brown willow chair. Charity must know perfectly well how untimely it was to start to spring the surprise while there was a running chance of Marcelle appearing. Still there was a hush, and the girls faced her expectantly.

”As you all know,” began Kit, ”the old bronze tablet in the lower hall carries names on its roll of honor which not only uphold the glory of Hope College, but also of the entire town of Delphi, of the entire state, I may say, of Wisconsin.”

”Kit,” murmured Peggy, sotto voce, ”if you start declaiming like that you'll have 'the Jinx' after your scalp. First thing we know, you'll begin, 'Ladies and fellow const.i.tuents.'”

Kit waited until the laugh had subsided, and Peggy had replaced the sh.e.l.l pins from her tumbled braids after a tussle with ”the Jinx,” who took all political allusions as personal affronts.

”There are few of us here to-day, if any,” continued Kit, slowly, one eye watching the concrete walk across the campus from the nearest window, ”who can boast of a Hope founder in her family.”

”I can, almost,” interrupted Antoinette, otherwise Tony; ”my big sister Marie was engaged for a very little while to Bernard Giron. If she had only married him, we would have had a 'Founder' in the family.”

”Tony,” said Kit, severely, ”I am dealing with facts, not prospects, and you ought not to reveal any family secrets, either. I say it is a great honor to be a direct descendant of a 'Founder,' and we have one in our cla.s.s. A girl, too modest to take advantage of her grandfather's record.”