Edith Dunton - Betty Wales, Freshman

“What?” interrupted Eleanor.

“Is it possible you didn’t know that?” inquired Mary. “Well, it’s true nevertheless. And we were the heroines of Mountain Day, and now we’re famous again.”

“How?” demanded the table in a chorus.

Mary smiled enigmatically. “This time it is a literary sensation,” she said.

“Is it Helen’s paper?” hazarded Betty.

“Mine, of course,” said Katherine. “Strange Miss Mills didn’t mention it this morning when I met her at Cuyler’s.”

Mary waited until it was quiet again. “If you’ve quite finished guessing,” she said, “I’ll tell you. You remember the evening when I found four of you in Rachel and Katherine’s room writing deceitful letters to your fond parents. Well, I had been racking my brains for weeks for a pleasing and original theme subject. You know you are supposed to spend two hours a week on this theme course, and I had spent two hours for four weeks in just thinking what to write. I’m not sure whether that counts at all and I didn’t like to ask–it would have been so conspicuous. So I was in despair when I chanced upon your happy gathering and was saved. Miss Raymond read it in class to-day,” concluded Mary triumphantly.

“You didn’t put us into it–our letters!” gasped Roberta.

“Indeed I did,” said Mary. “I put them all in, as nearly as I could remember them, and Miss Raymond read it in class, and made all sorts of clever comments about college customs and ideals and so on. I felt guilty, because I never had anything read before, and of course I didn’t exactly write this because the letters were the main part of it. So after class I waited for Miss Raymond and explained how it was. She laughed and said that she was glad I had an eye for good material and that she supposed all authors made more or less use of their acquaintance, and when I went off she actually asked me to come and see her. My junior friends are hoping it will pull me into a society and I’m hoping it will avert a condition.”

“Where is the theme?” asked Eleanor. “Won’t you read it to us?”

“It’s–why, I forgot the very best part of the whole story. Sallie Hill has it for the ‘Argus.’ She’s the literary editor, you know, and she wants it for the next number. So you see you are famous.

“Why don’t some of you elect this work?” asked Mary, when the excitement had somewhat subsided. “It’s open to freshmen, and it’s really great fun.”

“I thought you said that you spent eight hours and were in despair – ” began Eleanor.

“So I was,” said Mary. “I declare I’d forgotten that. Well, anyhow I’m sure I shan’t have any trouble now. I think I’ve learned how to go at it. Why, do you know, girls, I have an idea already. Not for a theme–something else. It concerns all of you–or most of you anyway.”

“I should think you’d made enough use of us for the present,” said Betty. “Why don’t you try to make a few sophomores famous?”

“Oh it doesn’t concern you that way. You are to – Oh wait till I get it started,” said Mary vaguely; and absolutely refused to be more explicit.

The Chapin house girls decided not to spend the proceeds of the dancing class for an elaborate supper, as they had first intended, but to turn their “spread” into the common college type, where “plowed field” and chocolate made with condensed milk and boiling water are the chief refreshments, and light-hearted sociability ensures a good time for everybody.

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