Part 22 (1/2)
”And I thought you were to be an engineer, Timothy?” said Billie.
”It's this enterprising American Edward who's done it all,” answered Timothy. ”We couldn't bear to be separated from him, English Eddie and I couldn't, so that's why we entered this seat of wisdom and learning. But it is a great experience. I'm not sorry for the work I had to do to get in.”
”And here we are at the most beautiful college in Oxford,” continued the American Edward proudly. ”I had a tough pull, too, and studied day and night, but I'm here and it's great.”
He led the way up that famous High Street which Hawthorne said was the n.o.blest old street in England, turned to the left and finally conducted them through a gateway into the beautiful Quadrangle of St. Mary Magdalen College. They climbed the Magdalen Tower where at five in the morning on every first day of May the choir still sings a Latin hymn.
From the summit of this ancient tower they saw the lovely little river, the verdant banks of which were dotted with students.
”And now, let us lead you gently to the tea table,” said Timothy.
”But what about Feargus, Cousin Helen?” asked Billie. ”Were we not to meet him in time for tea?”
”And who is Feargus?” demanded the boys.
”He is a firebrand young Irishman who is conducting us on this trip.”
Now, it so happened that the two Paxtons had an important engagement that would take them away for half an hour and Timothy was to do the honors of their lodgings until their return. Billy and Elinor had already strolled on ahead with the Paxtons; so that there was really no objection to be made, when Nancy offered to go back to the hotel and look for Feargus.
”The real reason I want to go,” she confided to Miss Campbell, ”is to change my hat. I can't bear this ugly old motor hat I am wearing, and if I had on the one with the pink lining, I'd feel much happier.”
”Very well, dear,” said Miss Campbell, smiling indulgently over Nancy's vanities, ”go along and get your other hat if it will improve your state of mind.”
”First show me exactly how to get to the lodgings,” Nancy asked of Timothy.
”You can't miss it,” he said. ”You have only to come back on this same street. Do you see that gray house over there with the white steps and the white front door? Ring the bell and ask for our rooms and the maid will show you up. Have you got it straight?”
”Certainly,” answered Nancy. ”My mind is active enough to grasp a gray house with white front steps and a maid to show me up.”
With an impudent toss of her head, she hastened away on her errand, already in her mind's eye putting on the hat with the pink lining, under the drooping brim of which she felt herself to become an irresistible person.
Feargus was not at the hotel. He had left a note stating that he had gone for a walk and would be back in time for dinner. Nancy felt irritated. He was a moody soul, that Irishman: one day in high spirits and the next in the depths. She pinned on the hat and looked at herself in the gla.s.s.
Now really, how pretty she was! What a beguiling face, to be sure! Her cheeks seemed pinker under the shadow of the drooping rose-lined brim, and her laughing blue eyes added l.u.s.ter to the soft oval of her face.
”I think I am looking rather well,” she said to herself, patting a curl or two and giving her gray brilliantine frock a little jerk, as she hurried out again.
Her mind filled with her own charms and the joy of living in a world so happy and beautiful, she left the ancient hostelry and turned her face toward Magdalen College and her friends' lodgings. Crossing the bridge, she let her glance wander along the green stretches of meadow beyond, with lovely glimpses of river scenery and wooded landscape.
And now, once over the bridge, she must cross the street, go a little way up another, and there, to be sure, was the gray house with the white steps. She marched up triumphantly.
”Who says I'm a dunce?” she demanded of her innermost self.
She rang the bell and the sound echoed through the house, but no one came to the door. Again she pulled the handle and the brazen call might have been heard through all Oxford, resounding far and near with a hundred reverberations. Then there floated to her from above a chorus of men's voices. This was the song they sang:
”The story of Frederick Gowler, A mariner of the sea, Who quitted his s.h.i.+p, 'The Howler,'
A-sailing in Caribbee.
For many a day he wandered Till he met, in a state of rum, Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop, The King of Canoodle-Dum.”
All this time Nancy was ringing the bell impatiently. Finally a voice called down the stair-way: