Edith Dunton - Betty Wales, Freshman

She was asleep in five minutes, but Helen lay for a long while thinking over the exciting events of the evening. How she had dreaded it! At home she hated dances and never went if she could help it, because she was such a wall-flower. She had been afraid it would be the same here, but it wasn’t. What a lovely time she had had! She could dance so well now, and Miss King’s friends were so nice, and college was such a beautiful place, though it was so different from what she had expected.

Across the hall Roberta had lighted her student lamp and was sitting up to write an appreciative and very clever account of the evening to her cousin, who was reporter on a Boston paper and had made her promise to send him an occasional college item.

And Eleanor, still in the yellow satin, sat at her desk scribbling aimlessly on a pad of paper or staring at a clean sheet, which began, “My dear father.” She had meant to write him that she was tired of college and wanted to come home at once; but somehow she couldn’t begin. For she thought, “I can see him raise his eyebrows and smile and say, ‘so you want to throw up the sponge, do you? I was under the impression that you had promised to stay out the year,’ as he did to the private secretary who wouldn’t sit up with him till three in the morning to write letters.”

Finally she tore up “My dear father,” and went to bed in the dark.

The next day was just the sort that everybody had been hoping for on Mountain Day,–crisp and clear and cool, with the inspiriting tang in the air, the delicious warmth in the sunshine, and the soft haze over the hills, that belong to nothing but a New England October at its best. The Chapin house breakfast-table was unusually lively, for each girl wanted to tell what she thought about the reception and how she was going to spend Mountain Day; and nobody seemed anxious to listen to anybody’s else story.

“Sh–sh,” demanded Mary Brooks at last. “Now children, you’ve talked long enough. Run and get your lunch boxes and begin making your sandwiches. Mrs. Chapin wants us to finish by ten o’clock.”

“Ten o’clock!” repeated Katherine. “Well, I should hope so. Our horse is ordered for nine.”

“Going to be gone all day?” inquired Mary sweetly.

“Of course,” answered Katherine with dignity.

“Well, don’t kill the poor beast,” called Mary as she ran up-stairs for her box.

Mary was going off in a barge with the sophomore decorating committee, who wanted a good chance to congratulate and condole with one another over their Herculean labors and ultimate triumph of the day before. The Rich sisters had decided to spend the holiday with an aunt who lived twenty miles down the river; Eleanor had promised early in the fall to go out with a party of horseback riders; and Helen, whose pocketbook had been prematurely flattened to buy her teakettle, had decided to accept the invitation of a girl in her geometry division to join an economical walking party. This left Rachel, Katherine, Roberta and Betty, who had hired a horse and two-seated trap for the day, invited Alice Waite, Betty’s little friend from the Hilton House, to join them, and were going to drive “over the notch.”

“I haven’t the least idea what a notch is like,” said Katherine. “We don’t have such things where I come from. But it sounds interesting.”

“Doesn’t it?” assented Rachel absently, counting the ham sandwiches. “Do you suppose the hills are very steep, Betty?”

“Oh, I guess not. Anyhow Katherine and I told the man we were going there and wanted a sure-footed horse.”

“Who’s going to drive?” asked Roberta.

“Why, you, of course,” said Katherine quickly. “You said you were used to driving.”

“Oh, yes, I am,” conceded Roberta hastily and wondered if she would better tell them any more. It was true that she was used to horses, but she had never conquered her fear of them, and they always found her out. It was a standing joke in the Lewis family that the steadiest horse put on airs and pranced for Roberta. Even old Tom, that her little cousins drove out alone–Roberta blushed as she remembered her experience with old Tom. But if the girls were depending on her–“Betty drives too,” she said aloud. “She and I can take turns. Are you sure we have enough gingersnaps?”

Everybody laughed, for Roberta’s fondness for gingersnaps had become proverbial. “Half a box apiece,” said Rachel, “and it is understood that you are to have all you want even if the rest of us don’t get any.”

When the horse arrived Roberta’s last fear vanished. He was meekness personified. His head drooped sadly and his eyes were half shut. His fuzzy nose and large feet bespoke docile endurance, while the heavy trap to which he was harnessed would certainly discourage all latent tendencies to undue speed. Alice Waite, Rachel and Katherine climbed in behind, Betty and Roberta took the front seat, and they started at a jog trot down Meriden Place.

“Shall we go through Main Street?” asked Roberta. “He might be afraid of the electric cars.”

“Afraid of nothing,” said Betty decidedly. “Besides, Alice wants to stop at the grocery.”

The “beastie,” as Katherine called him, stood like a statue before Mr. Phelps’s grocery and never so much as moved an eyelash when three trolley cars dashed by him in quick succession.

“What did you get?” asked Katherine, when Alice came out laden with bundles.

“Olives – ”

“Good! We forgot those.”

“And bananas – ”

“The very thing! We have grapes.”

“And wafers and gingersnaps – ”

Everybody laughed riotously. “What’s the matter now?” inquired Alice, looking a little offended. Rachel explained.

“Well, if you have enough for the lunch,” said Alice, “let’s keep these out to eat when we feel hungry.” And the box was accordingly stuffed between Betty and Roberta for safe keeping.

Down on the meadow road it was very warm. By the time they reached the ferry, the “beastie’s” thick coat was dripping wet and he breathed hard.

“Ben drivin’ pretty fast, hain’t you?” asked the ferryman, patting the horse’s hairy nose.

“I should think not,” said Katherine indignantly. “Why, he walked most of the way.”

“Wall, remember that there trap’s very heavy,” said the ferryman solemnly, as he shoved off.

Beyond the river the hills began. The “beastie” trailed slowly up them. Several times Roberta pulled him out to the side of the road to let more ambitious animals pass him.

“Do you suppose he’s really tired?” she whispered to Betty, as they approached a particularly steep pitch. “He might back down.”

“Girls,” said Betty hastily, “I’m sick of sitting still, so I’m going to walk up this next hill. Any of you want to come?”

Relieved of his four passengers the horse still hung his head and lifted each clumsy foot with an effort.

“Oh, Roberta, there’s a watering trough up here,” called Betty from the top of the hill. “I’m sure that’ll revive him.”

By their united efforts they got the “beastie” up to the trough, which was most inconveniently located on a steep bank beside the road; and while Betty and Alice kept the back wheels of the trap level, Katherine unfastened the check-rein. To her horror, as the check dropped the bits came out of the horse’s mouth.

“How funny,” said Alice, “just like everything up here. Did you ever see a harness like that, Betty?” Betty left her post at the hind wheel and came around to investigate.

“Why he has two bits,” she said. “Of course he couldn’t go, poor creature. And see how thirsty he is!”