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Read Ebook: Brenda's Cousin at Radcliffe: A Story for Girls by Reed Helen Leah Stephens Alice Barber Illustrator
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Ebook has 1578 lines and 86057 words, and 32 pages
BRENDA'S COUSIN AT RADCLIFFE
I NEW ACQUAINTANCES
A drop of ink splashed on the cover of Julia Bourne's blue-book.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, I wasn't thinking," murmured an apologetic voice, as Julia glanced up in surprise. A small, pale girl standing beside her desk had evidently held her fountain pen point down with disastrous result.
"Oh, it did no great harm," responded Julia, dexterously applying her blotter. Like the other girl, she spoke in an undertone, for silence was still the rule of the room.
"I'm thankful, however, that my book was closed," she said to herself, as the other passed on. "A blot on an inner page might prejudice the examiner, and I shall need all his good-will."
It was the Tuesday before the opening of college, and examinations were going on to enable some students to take off conditions imposed by the June finals, or to permit others--like Julia--to anticipate some study of the Freshman year.
Before handing in her book Julia corrected some errors, for there still lacked ten minutes of the close of the examination hour. As she sat there reading the printed questions, one by one, she was thankful for the cool day. How insufferably hot had been those two Junes when she had taken her preliminaries and her finals! Old Fay House then had swarmed with girls, lively, solemn, silent, chattering, short, tall, thin, stout, dowdy, attractive,--but why enumerate? They were as varied in aspect, and probably in disposition, as those other girls who never think of college. In comparison with the spring crowds, the girls to-day were but a handful.
Julia, glancing toward the window, caught a glimpse of the yellowing elms of Garden Street, and a soft September breeze blew across her cheek. Then her eye wandered to the photograph over the old-fashioned mantle-piece, and she thought that the class-room, except for its chairs and desks, was like the sitting-room of a private house.
Julia handed in her book promptly, but some of the others gave theirs up reluctantly, as if to say, "Oh, for ten minutes more, or even five minutes. It would make all the difference in the world to me." One of these girls, who was tall and strong-looking, with short, curling hair, expressed her feelings emphatically.
"I don't see," she said, as Julia and she left the room together, "how you got through so soon. You haven't been writing for ten minutes. Why, if we had five hours instead of two, I should still need an hour more. Weren't you frightened to death at the preliminaries?"
"I barely survived," replied Julia, entering into the other's mood. "There's an art in taking examinations that I'm only beginning to learn."
"Well, the worst is over! Harvard, they say , is the hardest college to enter and the easiest to graduate from. That's why I left my happy Western home. I don't mind struggling to get in, but I want an easy time after I've once entered college."
"You're from the West?" queried Julia.
"Oh, yes, from 'the wild and woolly West' as you call it here. I took my preliminaries in Chicago, although my home's farther off. Our colleges are just as good as any East, at least Pa says so. But I said 'the best isn't too good for me, and if Harvard's the best of all for men, why Radcliffe must be the best for women.' As soon as I'd thought it out I made up my mind to come here. I couldn't have done better, could I?"
"Why, Radcliffe has a pretty good standing in this part of the world."
"You don't speak with enthusiasm."
"Oh, I was only thinking that a good education can be obtained in a Western college. I've lived in the West myself," she explained.
"Let me embrace you," cried the Western girl, impulsively, fortunately without suiting the action to the word.
"You see it makes me tired the way people here pretend not to know anything about the West; but I honestly believe that you realize where Kansas is, and that St. Louis and Chicago are a few miles apart, and that the Mississippi is east of the Rocky Mountains."
"Oh, you could probably give me points in Western geography."
"Perhaps, but let me introduce myself. My name is Clarissa Herter, and my home is Kansas. My age is a little more than it ought to be--for a Freshman--for I've wasted a year at college elsewhere."
Julia smiled at this frank inventory, and she felt that she could do no less than tell Clarissa something about herself.
"So you're an orphan!" cried Clarissa, "and you've lived with relatives for two years or more. Well, you must have had a pretty good disposition to stand all the wear and tear. There's nothing so hard as living with relatives--except one's parents. As to your personal appearance, it suits me right down to the ground--don't look at your boots," she added. "I include them in the list."
Just then a proctor approaching introduced to the two the timid girl who had blotted Julia's book.
"I asked for the introduction," said the newcomer, whose name was Northcote, "because I wished to apologize for my carelessness."
"Now, really," responded Julia, "the blot did no harm."
"But if it had gone through the cover?"
"Oh, that would have been nothing."
"But I fear that I did more mischief than you think. There's a little ink spot on the side breadth of your skirt, and I'm sure that it came from my pen."
"Oh," cried Julia, looking where Pamela pointed, "that spot may have come from my own pen; and besides, the gown has seen its best days."
"Well, I'm very sorry," continued Miss Northcote.
In the meantime Clarissa had risen from the low, red couch, on which they had been sitting. "You must be a New Englander."
"I'm from Vermont."
"I thought so," cried Clarissa. "You have a well-developed conscience. You seem to be apologizing for something that perhaps you didn't do."
"Let us go upstairs to the library," interposed Julia, noticing that Miss Northcote was made uncomfortable by Clarissa's badinage.
"Isn't it pleasant! I had no idea it was so homelike!" exclaimed Julia on the threshold of the library.
"Do you mean you haven't been here before? Why, I explored the whole building from top to bottom last June. I didn't wait for a special invitation," cried Clarissa.
"It was so warm then!" Julia felt almost bound to apologize.
The room that they had entered justified the term "homelike" to the fullest extent. It had none of the stiffness of a college hall, although shelves of books were everywhere, always invitingly within reach. The deep-mullioned windows, the high mantle-piece and broad fireplace all had a decided charm. From the window that Julia approached, through the elms that shaded Fay House, there was a glimpse of the Soldiers' Monument on the Common, and nearer at hand the time-scarred Washington Elm. After looking into one or two smaller rooms filled with books, Clarissa suggested that they go into the open air.
"There must be something of the gypsy in my blood, for I begrudge every minute spent indoors at this season. Clarissa! Clarissa!" she cried dramatically, "you must out and walk."
"Is your name Clarissa?" asked the Vermont girl.
"Why not? Doesn't it suit me?"
"Well, it's strange," responded the other, "for I am called Pamela."
"How odd! Why, people may begin to call us 'the heroines,' unless we show them that we're made of stronger stuff than Richardson admired."
"Poor Richardson! How he would be horrified to see us modern girls going to college! You must belong to sentimental families to have those names."
"I was named for my aunt," explained Pamela with dignity.
"Well, I'm afraid that my mother took 'Clarissa' from a novel," admitted the Western girl.
After leaving Fay House, the two others walked with Julia toward Brattle Street. They had gone but a short distance when Clarissa exclaimed with surprise that it was nearly one o'clock.
"My luncheon is at half-past one," said Julia, "but perhaps yours is earlier."
"Yes, at my boarding-house we are very plebeian. At one o'clock we have dinner, not luncheon, while you, I dare say, have dinner at half-past six."
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