Part 16 (1/2)
CHAPTER IX
THIS VAIN SHOW
It was the first evening at college in their junior year. Upon coming out of the dining-room Lila caught sight of Bea waiting at the elevator door.
Dodging three seniors, a maid with a tray, and a man with a truck full of trunks, she made a dash for the new arrival who in a sudden freak of perversity danced tantalizingly just beyond reach.
”You imp! And I haven't seen you for three months. Help me!” she beckoned to Berta who that moment emerged from dinner, ”run around that side and catch her.”
But Bea, swiftly subsiding from her mischievous agility, stood still and regarded them with an air of surprised, sad dignity as the two flung themselves upon her.
”Young ladies, I am astonished at such behavior. Leading juniors--real, live, brand-new juniors--and to display such lack of self-restraint, such disdain of gracefulness and repose! Oh!” her voice changed magically, ”oh, you, dear sweet, darling girls, I love you pretty well.”
”Then why,” queried Berta, gasping as she released herself, ”then why, I repeat, do you endeavor to choke us to death?”
”Because,” answered Bea, as she meekly allowed Lila to straighten her hat while Berta rescued her satchel from the middle of the corridor, ”because you are so nice and n.o.ble and haven't any false feeling about little tokens of affection like that. In fact, you haven't any false pride or anything false, and I have a tale of woe to tell you by and by. Hereafter I intend to be a typical college girl, not an exception.”
The promised by and by proved to be the hour of unpacking after chapel services. While Bea was emptying her satchel that night she s.n.a.t.c.hed up a little fringed napkin and shook it vigorously before the other girls.
”See the crumbs! Thereby hangs the tale. Now, listen.
This summer we have been feeling rather poor at home, you know. My father's firm was forced to make an a.s.signment. It wasn't his fault, you understand; it was because of the hard times. Every few days we would hear of a bank closing its doors or a factory shutting down. People have been cutting off expenses in all directions. Of course my family has to economize. I am thankful enough to be able to come back to college. About a dozen girls in the cla.s.s have dropped out this year of the panic. I knew that I could earn fifty dollars or more by tutoring and carrying mail, if I once got here. That will help quite a lot toward books and postage and ordinary personal expenses. Father said he could manage the five hundred for board and tuition. You had better believe that I do not intend to be needlessly extravagant, when my mother is keeping house without a maid, and my father is riding to his office on a bicycle.
Now I rather suspect that this explanation is no excuse for the foolish way I behaved on the journey to college that September. But the summer has been so horrid, and two or three acquaintances changed around after the failure and treated us as if we had ceased to be worth noticing. Of course I know that such persons are not worth noticing themselves, still it did hurt a little. I guess the reason why I pretended to have plenty of money while traveling with Celia was because I was afraid of being hurt again. And then too I remembered how she had said one evening the year before when we were playing Truth that she despised stinginess beyond any other vice. That had made an impression on me because I was just going to say the very same thing myself.
Celia is a new student who is to join our cla.s.s this year. We met her last spring when she came up from a boarding-school in New York to visit a senior. You remember her? It was at a fudge party in her honor that we played the game of Truth, to which I have already alluded. She is the kind of person who is generally asked to be an usher at a hall play or on Founder's Day. She is tall, holds her head high, has an air. The doctor herself said when she saw her in chapel the evening of her visit, ”Who is that striking girl?” She dresses beautifully too; and I think I shall ask her to let me put down her name for two dances next month, if my cousin and his roommate come from Yale for the reception.
Being new to the college atmosphere, she had an excuse for the way she acted on the journey. An excuse that I did not have, you know--and I know too. But as for that, more anon, anon! At present I start in and continue by stating that on a certain September day I was sitting by myself in the Union Station at Chicago, while I waited for my train. I had arrived two hours before, and I was hungry, and I was also, as explained above, strongly inclined to be economical. And therefore I was eating my luncheon out of a pasteboard box, instead of going to a restaurant.
On my lap was a fringed napkin upon which reposed one slice of chocolate cake with frosting, one big peach, and seven large white grapes each containing at least three seeds. Just at the very moment when I took a bite of the peach, hoping that none of the weary pa.s.sengers around me was taking notes, for that peach was certainly juicy,--just at that exact moment, I happened to glance across to the door. There was Celia Lane, with her head higher than ever, looking up and down for an empty seat.
And the only empty seat in the whole waiting-room was next to mine. And my lap was strewn with an economical luncheon.
It was silly of me. I admit that once and forever, and shall not repeat it again. But like lightning her remark about stinginess flashed into my mind. Before she had taken the second step in my direction, I had crammed all those seven grapes into my mouth, bundled the napkin with crumbs, cake and pit into my satchel, shoved it under the bench, and rose nonchalantly swallowing the grapes whole as I haughtily lifted my chin in order to survey my worthless companions. Then of course my eyes fell upon her, and I started forward in vivacious greeting.
I don't believe she had recognized me before, for she said, ”Oh!” with a queer little gasp. Then she put out her hand in that cordial way of hers.
It made me think that I was the person she had been longing to find. She inquired what road I was going on, and said, ”Ah, yes, what a charming coincidence!” But honestly it seemed to me that there was a worried expression in her eyes.
And there I sat miserably shaking in my old shoes. It may appear funny to you, but it was an awful feeling. Even now months afterward I never want to smile at the memory. You see, it costs five dollars to ride in a Pullman car from Chicago to New York. I had planned to go into the common pa.s.senger coach until nightfall, and thus save two dollars and a half toward books for the new semester. That sounds a bit mean and sordid, doesn't it? And I know my family would have objected if I had told them, because the sleeping-cars are much safer in case of accidents. Oh, how I hated to say anything about it! You can't imagine. I wonder how Berta would express it with literary vividness. Maybe she might say that she ”shrank in every fibre.” But it was worse than that--I just didn't want to, I simply couldn't.
[Ill.u.s.tration: WE HANDED OVER FIVE DOLLARS APIECE]
The hand of the clock kept moving around--oh, lots faster than it had done before Celia appeared. When it was nearly time for the train to be ready, I began to mutter and mumble and finally managed to remark that I thought I had better see about engaging my berth. What do you suppose?
She gave a sort of astonished jump and exclaimed, ”Why, I must too.” So we both marched over to the agent's window and handed over five dollars apiece. I was dying to ask her to go shares with me, because one berth is plenty--or, I mean almost plenty--large enough for two. But though I opened my mouth a few times and coughed once, I absolutely did not dare to propose such a penurious plan. She might have thought me close-fisted, and perhaps she would not have slept very well either.
No sooner had we settled ourselves in the sleeper, than I began to worry about the meals. Naturally she would a.s.sume that I intended to go into the dining-car every time. Most of the girls do as a matter of course. In fact I remember feeling condescending whenever I saw anybody eating from a box while the other pa.s.sengers were filing down the aisle, or up, whichever it happened to be. This year I was to be one of the brave unfortunates left behind in their seats.
Well, very likely you understand that people while traveling really ought not to eat so heartily as usual. Much food in a dining-car clogs the system and ventilates the pocketbook, so to speak. I appreciated myself hard for being right and n.o.ble and abstemious and foresighted--with respect to the semester's expenses, you perceive, and also self-denying and self-reliant. There are a number of selfs in that sentence, likewise in the idea and in my mind at the time. I don't believe honestly that poverty is good for the character, though Berta says that she knows it isn't good for anything else.