Jean Baird - Elizabeth Hobart at Exeter Hall

Even Elizabeth, though a stranger, could not suppress a smile.

“Who has No. 12 – that big room, the one Miss Watson used to have?” continued Miss Welch, ignoring Landis’ show of vexation at her words. Landis made no attempt to answer, although the question was addressed to her. After a moment’s silence, a little German girl, Elizabeth’s vis-a-vis, replied, “If I have not heard it unright, Fraulein – that is, Miss O’Day in it she will room.”

She blushed prettily as she spoke, half in shyness and half in embarrassment that her German idioms would intrude themselves when she was trying to speak English. She looked up at Miss Cresswell, as though she sought encouragement from her.

“Why, Miss Hirsch, what have you been doing all summer? Spending all your vacation talking English? You have improved wonderfully. Now Fraulein Kronenberg will complain that you are losing your pure German accent.”

“Oh, think you so? It is glad I am. A single German word the whole long summer have I not said. But about the room which on the second floor is; to me it was said Miss O’Day will – will – occupy? it.”

“Who is to room with her?” asked Miss Welch.

“I believe she is to room alone,” said Miss Cresswell.

“Why doesn’t Maud Harris go back with her? They seemed to get along well last fall, and Maud is well enough to enter again!” said Miss Welch.

“Miss Harris with anything could – what you call it? – get along,” said Miss Hirsch.

“My words seem to suggest that Miss O’Day is difficult to get along with. I did not mean that. So far as I know, she has a very even temper, and is more than generous with all her possessions. She isn’t selfish.”

“I can plainly see why Maud has another roommate. Of course you all do. It does seem a little hard.” Here Landis’ manner grew important. Her head was raised, and her lips curled. “But those of us who have a high sense of honor would not care to room with Miss O’Day. I hope I am not narrow-minded, but I feel that all my finer instincts rebel at the thought of – ”

“Miss Stoner, if you please, we will drop the subject. Nothing can be gained by carrying it further.” This came from Miss Cresswell. She spoke quietly but her manner and voice was that of one who expected to have her suggestions followed.

Landis tilted her head a little higher, but her face flushed. She was about to tell Miss Cresswell that she would discuss any subject when and where she chose when she remembered suddenly that Miss Cresswell was the head of the table and the one to whom she must pay a certain amount of respect.

The dinner had been brought in. Miss Cresswell served the plates with Maggie, the colored serving-maid, standing at her side. All conversation of a personal nature stopped while the servants were in the room. When the dinner was over, and dessert on the table, the chatter began. As they were about to quit the room, a bell rang. Quiet fell upon them. Dr. Morgan arose from her place at the head table.

She made a few general announcements. Then in her clear, decisive voice continued: “The students will not forget that they are expected to dress for dinner. If you are too indisposed to change your school attire for something fresher, you are too indisposed to come to the dining-hall. But you will bear in mind that this does not mean either dinner or reception gowns. Elaborate and extravagant dressing is not suited to girls in school. Miss O’Day has infringed upon this rule. Consequently she may pass immediately to her apartments, change her gown, and spend the evening in her room, without conversing with anyone. You may be excused, Miss O’Day.”

From a table at a distant part of the room, Miss O’Day arose. As she moved through the room with her head high and eyes straight before her, her shoulders and arms gleamed through their transparent covering, and the rustle of her silken petticoats was audible.

As she disappeared, Dr. Morgan gave the signal for dismissal. The hum of conversation among the students began again, as in little groups they passed to the parlors or to the campus.

“What have you brought to fix up our quarters?” asked Miss Wilson, the day following Elizabeth’s arrival at Exeter. Her trunk and box were in the middle of the study, while she and Miss Wilson stood and looked on as Jimmy Jordan unfastened straps and drew out nails.

“I do not know,” was the reply. “Mother slipped in a whole box of extras. I wondered why she was doing it. She said I would see later. There were cups and spoons, and doilies.”

“Sensible mother,” rejoined Miss Wilson. “She realizes the necessity of frequent spreads in the strenuous life we lead. No doubt we’ll find among your traps a glass or so of jelly, and some preserves. Mothers who have been at school themselves appreciate the situation.”

Elizabeth laughed. She was beginning to understand her roommate’s style of conversation.

Miss Wilson was not one to shirk. Work had no terrors for her. She was never idle, but when she was tired with study she found rest in some other form of occupation. Now, while Elizabeth was unpacking, she assisted her in every way, putting in order bureau drawers, and arranging books.

Elizabeth had depended more or less upon her mother. How much that “more” was greater than that “less” she did not realize until she was alone. Miss Wilson proved her right hand now.

The greater part of the day was spent in arranging their possessions. The pictures which Elizabeth had brought from home were hung; the bright cushions placed at a proper angle on the couch, over which had been placed a covering of gay tapestry. A table had been drawn up near the fireplace.

This was a new experience for Elizabeth so she let Miss Wilson take the lead. She watched her arrange the tea-table. The dainty cups and plates, souvenir spoons, sugar bowl and creamer found their proper places. It was a small edition of their dining-table at home. The chafing-dish and swinging kettle with its alcohol lamp were too much for Elizabeth to bear without comment. She must and did ask their purpose.

“I’ll show you in one minute,” said Mary. She took a box of cocoa and a bottle of alcohol from a small cabinet. “I must borrow some cream from Anna Cresswell. I saw her get some this morning. But first I must put this water on to boil.” She did so, then hurried from the room, soon returning with the cream.

After stirring the cream, cocoa and sugar in the cup, she poured on the boiling water. With a few additional manipulations of the spoon, she held out the cup to Elizabeth. “Here, girlie, drink to the prosperity of Exeter Hall in general, and these quarters in particular. May you get along with your roommate better than people generally do, and may all the scraps between you and her be made up before the retiring-bell rings.”

Elizabeth raised her cup to the toast, then drank. “Why, that is fine – and made with such a little fire! I would not have believed it possible.”

“You think that is good?” was the reply. “You will open your eyes when you see what can be done with the chafing-dish, – creamed oysters, fudge, soups of all kinds, Welsh rarebits. I hope, Elizabeth, that you spoke to your mother about boxes. At Exeter, boxes are acceptable at all times.”

“Boxes?” in surprise. “No; I never mentioned the word to her. I didn’t understand that they would be required. The catalog made no mention of them. I know because I looked particularly about the number of napkins and towels required. What do you put in them?”

“I don’t know. It is what you take out of them that makes them valuable. Personally, I prefer roast chicken and cake.”