Molly Brown's Sophomore Days Part 18

"We have done some sliding of that kind," he answered, laughing, "but it was accidental and there was no time to get out a pocket handkerchief."

At last the great carnival was over, and Molly, falling in with a crowd of campus girls, started for home, singing with the others:

"Good-night, ladies, we're gwine to leave you now."

It was nearly ten when she tramped upstairs, still on her skates. Judy called out to her from her room, but Nance had not returned. Molly unlaced the skating boots, removed the Russian Princess costume, and flinging her time-worn eiderdown cape around her shoulders, sat down to toast her toes.

"Judy," she called presently, "what have you done with Nance?"

"The last I saw of the Lady Nance she was going over the hill with her sandy-haired cavalier."

"I saw her, too, but I haven't met up with her since. I'm afraid she will get a 'calling' if she isn't back pretty soon."

The girls waited silently. Presently they heard the last of the carnival revellers return. The clock in the tower struck ten. Mrs. Markham locked the hall door and put out the hall light, and still no Nance.

"She's gone off skating with Sandy Andy and forgot the time," whispered Judy, who had crept into Molly's room to confer. "It's a good joke on proper old Nance. I think she was never known to break a rule before."

"You don't suppose anything could have happened to them, do you?"

"Of course not. But you know how absorbed they do get in conversation.

They wouldn't hear a cannon go off a yard away."

"They are awfully strict here about being out with boys," observed Molly uneasily. "I do wish she would come home."

The girls lingered over the register talking in whispers until the clock struck half-past ten.

"Molly, suppose they have eloped!" Judy observed.

"Eloped!" repeated Molly, amazed. Then she began to laugh. "Judy, is there anybody in the world so romantic as you? Why, they are mere infants. Andy isn't nineteen yet and Nance was only eighteen last month.

I think we'd better slip out and find them. Come on."

Very quietly the two girls got into their things. They wore their rubbers this time, and Molly very thankfully carried the imitation ermine m.u.f.f. The entire household was sound asleep when out into the sparkling, glittering world they crept like two conspirators.

"Suppose we try the links first," suggested Judy, "since both of us saw them disappearing last in that direction."

"If we were really ladylike persons we'd be afraid to go scurrying off here in the dark," observed Molly.

"I'm not afraid of anything," Judy replied, and Molly knew she spoke the truth, for Judy was the most fearless girl she had ever known.

When they reached the summit of the hill, they began calling at the tops of their voices, "Nance! Nance Oldham!"

There was no answer and not in all the broad expanse of whiteness could they see a human being.

"I wish I knew what to do," exclaimed Molly, growing more and more uneasy. "Suppose she has been injured--suppose--suppose----"

"There they are!" cried Judy. "The young rascals, I believe they are utterly oblivious to time."

Far over the ice appeared the two figures. They were not skating but walking, and several times before they reached the girls they slipped and fell down.

"You are a nice pair," cried Judy. "Don't you know it's way after hours and everybody is in bed long ago?"

"Why, Nance, dear, what has happened? Why are you walking?" asked Molly, who was rarely known to scold anybody.

"I am very sorry," said Nance stiffly. "I couldn't help it. The heel of my shoe came off and I couldn't skate. Mr. McLean----"

Judy smiled mischievously.

"They've been quarreling," she said under her breath.

"And Mr. McLean had to bring me back much against his will."

"Nothing of the sort, Miss Oldham," put in "Mr." McLean, flus.h.i.+ng angrily. "I was very glad to bring you back. I only said----"

"Never mind what you said. It was your manner. Actions speak louder than words."

"Come along," put in Molly. "This is no time for quarrels. It's after eleven. Andy, what will you do? Skate back to Exmoor or stay at your father's?"

"I shall skate back, of course," he answered in an heroic voice. "The other fellows might think something had happened to me."

"Here, Nance, put on one of my overshoes," said Judy. "That will keep you from slipping and we must hasten e'er the midnight chime doth strike. Farewell, Andrew. G.o.d bless you, and a safe journey, my boy."

Judy struck a dramatic att.i.tude and Molly was obliged to laugh, in spite of the serious faces of the others.

"Hadn't I better see you home?" asked Andrew stiffly.

"Forsooth, no, good gentleman. Begone, and the sooner the better."

"Come on, you silly goose," laughed Molly, and the three girls hurried home. Once they stopped to look back, and young Andy, skating as if the foul fiends were after him, was almost at the end of the course.

There was no Miss Steel that winter to keep a sharp ear open for late-comers and the girls crept safely up to bed. Twice in the night Molly heard Nance weeping bitterly. But she said nothing because she knew that such quarrels are soon mended.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE THAW.

Next day began the thaw and in a week the whole earth appeared to have melted into an unpleasant muddy-colored liquid. An icy dampness permeated the air. It chilled the warmth of the soul and changed the hue of existence to a sad gray.

Judy and Molly were prepared to see Nance thaw with the great sleet and melt into little rivulets of feeling and remorse. She had seemed rather hard on Andy, junior, that night; but Nance remained implacable and had no word to say on the subject.

"She's as ice-bound as ever," exclaimed Judy, shaking her head ruefully.

"I am afraid she still belongs to the glacial period. Don't you think you can warm her up a little and make her forgive poor Andy?"

"Perhaps the sun will do it," said Molly, lifting her skirts as she waded through the slush on the campus.