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Grace Harlowe's Fourth Year at Overton College

<h3>WHAT PATIENCE OVERHEARD</h3> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Oh, Overton, our voices clear Ring out in reverent praise to-day, To thee, our Mother, loved and dear Who guides us on our college way," </div> </div> sang Grace softly as she walked about her room putting away the various articles of wearing apparel she had taken from her trunk. The Christmas vacation had come and gone like a glad, happy dream, and with a hundred pleasant memories of home to sweeten the days that lay between her and Easter, Grace cheerfully unpacked her belongings, humming as she worked the song of Overton that she loved best. A light knock on the door, accompanied by, "May I come in?" hushed the song on Grace's lips. "I should say so," she called, recognizing Patience Eliot's voice. "Enter and give an account of yourself. I've hardly seen you since I came back." "I have had more or less unpacking to do, too," said Patience, with a comprehensive glance about the room. "Also deep in my soul lurks the fear of the fateful midyear with its burden of exams. I am conducting a general review every night for the benefit of Patience Eliot, but it is rather up-hill work. I envy you high and mighty seniors, whose days and nights of anxiety are past." "I don't believe you are half as much worried as you pretend. Patience Eliot is far too valiant to be downed by a mere examination." "It is all very well to talk," grumbled Patience, "but you know just how footless mere talk is. I'm not at all sure that I shall not flunk." "You won't, so don't try to make me believe you will," assured Grace, "and you are going to forget your books and have dinner with me at Vinton's to-morrow night, too." "Am I?" asked Patience. "Let me see. Oh, yes, I am. It is on Wednesday evening that the great event takes place." "What great event?" asked Grace with unthinking curiosity. "I beg your pardon, Patience, I didn't mean to——" Patience dismissed Grace's attempt to apologize with a wave of her hand. "Oh, that is all right. It is what I came here to tell you. You may believe it or not, but Kathleen West has actually invited me to go to that illustrated lecture on 'Mexico' at the Overton theatre on Wednesday evening." "And you are going?" Grace could not keep a slight constraint from her tone. Her resentment against the newspaper girl still lived. Despite the long, intimate talk she had with her father, she could not quite forget that Kathleen had been partly responsible for the unhappy hours she had spent before going home to Oakdale. "Yes," Patience replied. There was a note of finality in her voice. "I believe it is best, Grace. In fact, I am sure it is." Grace stood staring moodily at Patience. A struggle against her own personal feelings was going on within her. Suddenly her face cleared, and with a little, rueful smile she held out her hand to the other girl. "I'm truly glad you are going with her, Patience. I thought I wasn't, but I am. I can't imagine why I don't outgrow my resentment against that girl. I don't understand myself lately." "I knew you would agree with me." Patience still held Grace's hand in hers. "Now that the ice has been broken—you know you asked us not to mention Kathleen to you—I can say something I've wanted to tell you for a week. There has been a slight change for the better in Kathleen since Christmas. I don't know what has brought it about, but she is less hard and bitter than she used to be. She is terribly blue, though, and the other day I came into the room and found her crying. Just imagine Kathleen West in tears if you can. She wiped them away post haste and I pretended I hadn't noticed that she was crying. One can't sympathize with her, you know. She wouldn't like it. She prides herself on her stoicism." "I wonder what happened," mused Grace. "She has been writing every evening on her play," continued Patience, "until last night. I was hard at work on my Horace, when suddenly she said, 'Oh, what's the use?' and began tearing up everything she'd written. 'I could see,' to quote Elfreda, that she was in one of her black moods, so I never said a word. I think her conscience is troubling her. Perhaps one of these days she will find herself and surprise all of us." "I hope so," said Grace without enthusiasm. "By the way, I meant to tell you of Arline's and my plan. We are going to propose that the Semper Fidelis girls give a 'Famous Fiction' masquerade and invite the college. We won't try to make any money this time. Later on we will give a concert. This dance will be just a college frolic, but it will be fun to dress up and mask. There will be plenty of girls who won't attend the affair, but there will be a great many who will come. The gymnasium is large enough to accommodate a crowd. We'll have dancing, of course, and Semper Fidelis is going to pay for the orchestra out of their own pockets. There won't be any real refreshments, just lemonade and fancy crackers. The real fun will lie in the costumes. Every one who attends must be dressed to carry out the title of some work of fiction, either standard or 'best sellers.'" "What a jolly idea," smiled Patience. "I know already what I shall choose." "Good!" exclaimed Grace. "Put on your wraps and go with me to Arline's. I feel as though I must discuss it with her to-night." Within the next five minutes Grace and Patience were crossing the campus to Morton House. "I was just getting ready to go to Wayne Hall," declared Arline, as they marched into her room in obedience to her rather impatient "Come in." "And didn't care to be bothered with visitors," added Patience. "I thought it was a freshman on the next floor who demands admittance at regular hour intervals. She has the 'crush' habit to distraction. She's a nice girl," added Arline, generously, "even though she bores me frightfully at times, and I wouldn't for anything hurt her feelings. I am glad you came. I was just thinking of making you a call. I want to talk over our Famous Fiction dance." "Why, that is what brought us here!" cried Grace. "We decided that there was no time like the present for talking it over." "Then, being of the same mind, we shall no doubt accomplish wonders," laughed Arline. "When shall we give it?" "The sooner, the better," advised Patience. "That is, if you expect the freshmen and sophomores to turn out to it. Midyear examinations are only three weeks off, and by the last of next week every one will be so desperately devoted to reviewing back lessons that the idea of a masquerade won't create an iota of enthusiasm." "Patience is as level-headed as ever," agreed Grace. "Why not have the masquerade next Monday evening? That will give us a week to decide on our costumes and order our masks. Suppose we ask that poor old woman who keeps the little shop just beyond the campus to order our masks? I'll post a notice on the bulletin board as soon as we have secured Miss Wilder's permission to give the masquerade to the effect that masks can be bought at her shop. She is safe in ordering three hundred at least, and it will mean a small profit to her." "Grace is always thinking of helping the needy and the downtrodden," declared Arline. "You are a really truly philanthropist, Grace, and you ought to be a fixture at Overton." "Please don't, Arline," protested Grace, frowning a little. "I'm not a bit more interested in helping others than are you or Patience. I was just thinking to-day that I had really been selfish. It doesn't seem fair that I should have had such good times when so many girls here have nothing but hard work and worry over money matters." "Who organized Semper Fidelis and who was the first person to think of our Christmas girls?" demanded Arline. "You are the president of the Sempers and you collected almost all the presents for our first Santa Claus venture," evaded Grace. <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Let each be wise and wear the prize, Let each divide the crown, The deeds of Harlowe and of Thayer, Are equal in renown. Stop arguing and get to work, For that is why we're here, Don't waste your time in idle words, The dinner hour is near," </div> </div> improvised Patience. Both girls looked their surprise at this outburst. "Thank you for your poetic counsel, Patience," said Grace. "Suppose we write down the things to be done in connection with giving the dance." "Here you are." Arline opened her desk and motioned Grace to the chair before it. "We'll suggest, and you can write." By the time the girls had finished their plans for the masquerade it was half-past six. "Stay here for dinner," invited Arline. Grace shook her head. "Thank you, but I have studying to do and letters to write to-night. If I stay here for dinner, I'll reach Wayne Hall at twenty-nine minutes after ten. I know my failings." "Same here," said Patience. "I am not to be trusted, either. Thank you for the invitation; it is a great temptation. Let us go, Grace, before we succumb to the artful blandishments of this blonde young person and stay in spite of ourselves." "Come over to-morrow night, Arline," called Grace as they went down the steps of Morton House. Arline had accompanied them to the door. "Bring Ruth with you. Tell her I am sorry I didn't see her to-night." "I'll see you later, Patience," said Grace as they separated at the head of the stairs. Patience walked slowly down the hall to her room. The door stood slightly ajar and the room was in darkness, but the sound of a familiar voice caused Patience to halt abruptly. "I could see," said the voice of Elfreda Briggs, "that something worried you. I know just how sorry you feel, because I went through the same thing myself. But if you could make up your mind to go to her and tell her that——" "Oh, I couldn't do that." It was Kathleen's voice that interrupted the speaker. "I am sure she must hate me. I never believed that I should care, but I do. If only I could do something to show her that at last I understand what college spirit means." "Do you really mean that?" There was a note of excitement in Elfreda's voice. "Because, if you do, I have the most splendid idea, and the beauty of it is that you are the only one who can carry it out. Will you——" But Patience, realizing with a start that she was eavesdropping, waited to hear no more. Turning about she stepped noiselessly along the hall and down the stairs. Entering the living room she found Emma Dean entertaining three girls who were laughing immoderately. "Hello, Patience!" called Emma. "Come in and listen to my tale of woe. Where was I? Oh, yes, the minute I stepped off the car I realized that I had left my silk umbrella in it. The car started about five seconds before I did. It was a beautiful race. I passed a fat policeman on the corner, and waved my hand reassuringly at him merely to show that I was not fleeing from Justice. Talk about fast running! I actually surprised myself. I caught up with the car just as it was turning that curve on High Street, and floundered into it, puffing like a steam engine. I made one dash past the conductor, reached the seat where my cherished umbrella still reposed and captured it. The conductor must have thought me hopelessly demented, for I dashed out as the car stopped at the next corner without having paid a cent of carfare or offered a sign of an explanation. "When I passed the corner where the fat policeman stood, he looked at me with respectful admiration, and said: 'You got that car, lady, didn't you?' and I proudly acknowledged that I did. I was only sorry that there weren't more persons about to appreciate Emma Dean's Two Block Dash." Patience joined in the laughter that had accompanied Emma's narrative. "How are you getting on with your play, Emma?" she asked. "I still have the title," returned Emma blandly, "but I can't decide upon my characters. There are so many shining lights at Wayne Hall. You know my play is entitled "Life at Wayne Hall; Or, the Expressman's Surprise." The only character I've actually decided upon is the expressman. I am obliged to have him because he is in the sub-title. I decided long ago on my opening speech, however. The expressman opens the play by saying, 'I can't wait all day, lady.' Isn't that realistic? So true to life!" "In the face of such an offering, Emma, I am satisfied that it would be sheer folly for any of us to enter the lists," assured Patience. "Of course, I don't wish to discourage any of you," deprecated Emma with the droll little smile for which she was noted. "But to give Emma Dean and her wonderful ability as a playwright a rest, what is new?" "We are talking of giving a masquerade," volunteered Patience. "Who is included in 'we'?" asked Laura Atkins. "Grace, Arline and I were talking it over to-day. We thought of giving a Famous Fiction masquerade." "What is a Famous Fiction masquerade?" asked Emma curiously. Whereupon Patience entered into an explanation of the proposed gayety while the girls listened with willing ears. While they were discussing it, Elfreda Briggs appeared in the doorway and Patience knew that she could now return to her room without running the risk of interrupting a heart-to-heart talk. But she smiled to herself as she thought that while she had been casting about for some way to help Kathleen, Elfreda had found it. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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