Smith College Stories Part 25

_Second Member of Cla.s.s._ And when we thought of Mollie dancing about there with her collar undone, trying to make those idiotic men understand something and being everywhere at once--between the acts, you know, being a fairly occupied time for her--when we imagined her walking out of the garden scene or Orsino's house to take the what-do-you-call-it of the sun (though I don't see how she could take it of the sun at night--it must have been the moon, Ethel).

_Member of Faculty._ And what did Miss Vanderveer say?

_First Member of Cla.s.s._ I'm sure it was the sun, Teddie, Mollie said sun--why, she coughed and said, "I certainly will, if I get time, Miss Drake!"

_Member of Faculty._ Great presence of mind, I'm sure.

-- _Group of relatives and three members of the cla.s.s._

_First Member._ Mamma, this is Miss Twitch.e.l.l and Miss Fosd.i.c.k--Maria and Malvolio, you know.

_Mother._ I am pleased to meet you both. I want to tell you how much I enjoyed, _etc._

_Misses Twitch.e.l.l and Fosd.i.c.k._ We're so glad if you did, _etc._

_Mother._ I was not able to catch much of your speech, but Ellen tells me we can have the pleasure of reading it later.

_Miss Twitch.e.l.l, moving away._ I'm afraid you will have the opportunity--but I tried to make it as short as I could!

_Mother._ And now I suppose you're going home to sleep all day? I should think you'd need it.

_Miss Twitch.e.l.l._ Oh, dear, no! I'm going to the Alpha on the back campus this afternoon, and I want to look in at Colloquium, and then there's the Glee Club to-night, you know. I've no more worry now, nothing to do but enjoy myself.

_Aunt._ What is this, Ellen? The Glee Club--

_Ellen._ Why, Aunt Grace, the Glee Club promenade, don't you know?

That's when the lanterns are all over, and they give a concert, and we all walk about, and it's so pretty--don't you remember I told you?

_Aunt._ Well, then, I'll go right home and take my nap, if I'm to go out to-night. Are you going to all these things, too, Ellen?

_Ellen._ Well, practically. Only I'm going to Phi Kapp and Biological instead. But I _am_ going to lie down--I'm so tired, I can't think straight, and you know I'm on the Banjo Club, and we have to have a short rehearsal--

-- _The crowd gradually disperses, and the campus is practically deserted; men begin to put up poles and wires for lanterns; others gather and arrange scattered chairs. Stray relatives hunt for each other and their boarding-places or inquire with interest which is the Science Building and the Dewey House. Belated members of the cla.s.s wander homewards or patiently seek out their families, whose temporary guardians are thus relieved._

_Abstracted member of the cla.s.s and large, domineering woman in black satin, before the Morris House gate._

_Large Woman._ This is the Hatfield, is it not?

_Member of Cla.s.s._ Oh! I beg your pardon? No, it's the Morris.

_Large Woman._ Ah! I was told it was the Hatfield.

_Member of Cla.s.s, simply._ Well, it's not.

_Large Woman._ And that over there (_pointing to the Observatory_), that is the Lilly House?

_Member of Cla.s.s._ No, that's the Observatory. Lilly Hall is up farther. It's just beyond the d.i.c.kinson--no, the Lawrence--I mean the _Hubbard House_!

_Large Woman._ And where is the Hubbard House?

_Member of Cla.s.s._ Oh, dear! (_pulls herself together with an effort_) it's up in a line, the one, two, three, third from here.

_Large Woman._ Thank you. And I wish to see the Botanical Gardens, too. Where are they? (_Member of Cla.s.s points out their position._)

_Large Woman._ And where is the Landscape Garden?

_Member of Cla.s.s, vaguely._ Why, I suppose it's over there, too. I don't exactly--it's all landscape garden, I suppose--it's not big--

_Large Woman, severely._ I was told there was a fine landscape and botanical garden--are you a member of the college?

_Member of Cla.s.s, leaning against the post._ Why, yes, but it's all botanical garden, for that matter. (_Catches sight of a tree with a tin label tied to it and points luminously at it._) _That's_ botanical, you know--all the trees and shrubs!

_Large Woman, with irritation._ I am quite aware that it is--I--

_Member of Cla.s.s, despairingly._ Oh, excuse me, I mean it's--it's--_I mean they all have labels!_ (_Large Woman stalks majestically away; Member of Cla.s.s makes a few incoherent gestures in the air, murmurs_, "I am _such_ a fool, but I'm _so_ tired!" _Throws out her hands wearily and trails into the Morris House._)

THE TENTH STORY

_THE END OF IT_

X

THE END OF IT

There are two methods of conducting a cla.s.s supper. The first is something like this: you pick out three utterly unrelated girls who never had anything to do with one another in their lives, and call them the supper committee; you pick out two clever, uninterested girls and call them the toast committee; you pick out an extremely busy girl who lives half a mile off the campus and call her the seating committee; you pick out a popular girl who is supposed to be humorous because she laughs at everybody's jokes and knows one comic song, and call her the toast-mistress.

And this is the result of it: The supper committee meets, wonders what under heaven induced the president to appoint the other two, finds out what caterer they had last year, and after a little perfunctory argument employs him again without further action, with the result that one end of the table has five kinds of ice cream and the other a horrifying recurrence of lukewarm croquettes; the toast committee spends a great deal of time in hunting out extremely subtle quotations from Shakespeare and Omar Khayyam, with the result that no one of the toasters gets the least idea of how she is expected to elaborate her theme; the seating committee is so hara.s.sed by everybody that she gives up her diagram in despair, and successive girls erase and sign and re-erase till n.o.body but the three or four leading sets in the cla.s.s are satisfied, and they are displeased because the toasters are either put in a line at the head or scattered about the tables, and that separates them from their immediate cliques; the toast-mistress turns out to be more appreciative than constructive, and worries her friends and bores her enemies beyond previous conception. The main body of unimportant necessary people are crowded off by themselves and feel somewhat flat and heavy and irritated at the noisy groups beyond them; the toasts are apt to be a little sad and vague because the girls don't fit them and talk too much about enduring friends.h.i.+ps, the larger life, four years of stimulating rivalry, and alma mater. Why they do all this at this season and this alone, only the Lord who made them knows.

But Ninety-yellow did not employ this method. It occurred to Theodora somewhat originally, perhaps, as she looked around her that last Tuesday evening, that a better cla.s.s supper was never arranged. It can hardly be a.s.serted that it was a really good supper, for it is to be doubted if a hundred and seventy-five women ever sat down to a really good supper; but there was almost enough of it, and it was very nearly hot. Kathie Sewall had picked the supper committee well, and they knew one another thoroughly enough to give it all to the chairman to do and to make fun of her till she was spurred on to a really n.o.ble effort. She knew that it is always damp and cold cla.s.s supper night, and planned accordingly. Kitty Louisa Hofstetter managed the toasts, and though Kitty Louisa was uneven and a little vulgar at times, she was clever in her unexpected hail-fellow-well-met way and popular with the cla.s.s for the most part. She had a genius for puns of the kind that grow better as they grow worse, and they were shamelessly italicized in the toast-cards, which caused great merriment before the toasts had begun. And the seating was very well done, for the cla.s.s was nicely broken up and mixed about among the tables till everybody was within four or five of a reasonably important person.

As for the toast-mistress--well, you see, Theodora's opinion of her might have been a trifle exaggerated, for she was Theodora's best friend. How little she had changed, Theo thought, as she watched her rumple her hair in the same funny, boyish way that she had freshman year. Theo had seen her first in the main hall, floating with the current of freshmen that pushed its way almost four hundred strong to meet its cla.s.s officer and find out that O. G. meant Old Gymnasium.

That far-off freshman year! Theo smelt again the clean, washed floor; saw again the worried shepherds herding their flocks into the scheduled stalls and praying that the parents might go soon and leave their darlings, if misunderstood, at least unenc.u.mbered; heard again the buzz and hum of a thousand chattering, scuffling girls, bubbling over with a hundred greetings for each other.

"h.e.l.lo, Peggy! Peggy! I say, _h.e.l.lo Peggy_!"

"Oh, h.e.l.lo! Have a good time?"

"Grand! Did you?"

"Perfectly fine--I saw Ursula and Dodo and--Oh, Ursula! h.e.l.lo! Here I am!"