: Brenda's Cousin at Radcliffe: A Story for Girls by Reed Helen Leah Stephens Alice Barber Illustrator - Women college students Juvenile fiction; Radcliffe College Juvenile fiction

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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."

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