"I loathe her," came the second whisper.

"Mean thing--jealousy!" croaked Hannah once more, and turned her attention to the business in hand.

After the china flower-pots had been disposed of, a trio of basket- chairs gave an impetus to the bidding, as the truth of the auctioneer's words went home to every heart.

"'Three luxurious basket-chairs, cushioned complete in handsome cretonne, stuffed pure wool. Condition--as new.' Ladies, in these basket-chairs you see not only elegant articles of furniture, but a solution of the dilemma which dogs every owner of a one-comfortable- chair study. One question haunts her waking and sleeping hours; one problem embitters the most social occasions--'_Shall I be comfortable or polite_?' To this question, in this college of Newnham, there can, ladies, be but one reply--and the wretched hostess sits on the coal-box and gives her visitor the chair. After long hours of mental toil, after the physical strain of the hockey-field, a quiet hour is vouchsafed beside her own fireside, with the companionship of a beloved friend to soothe and cheer, and that hour, ladies--that precious hour--I say it with emotion almost too strong for words--that stolen hour of peace and rest must needs be pa.s.sed--_on the coal-box_! Ladies, I need say no more. The remedy is in your own hands."

So on, and so on. After the chairs came curtains; after the curtains, bookcases, ornaments, and books. The auction flowed on, punctuated by explosions of laughter, until the last item on the "catalogue" was reached, and the auctioneer was crimson with exhaustion.

Darsie and Hannah had ama.s.sed between them quite a stock of furnishings.

A screen apiece, chairs, Oriental window-curtains in stripes of contrasting colours warm and comfortable to look upon, flower-pots, and odd pictures and ornaments. One felt a proprietor, indeed, as one looked over the spoils, and the inroads into capital had been agreeably small. Darsie was folding up her damaged "spread" when a voice spoke in her ear, and with a little jump of the heart she looked up to find Margaret France standing by her side.

"How do you do? I must thank you for your patronage. You chipped in n.o.bly. Hope you'll like 'em, when you've got 'em. Just up, aren't you?

What's your shop?"

For a moment Darsie stared blankly, then a flash of intuition revealed the meaning of the word.

"Modern languages."

"Good! So'm I. And your friend?"

"Mathematics."

"Humph! Well, good luck! I'm off to bed. We shall meet on the Rialto!"

She smiled, nodded, and was gone. With a sudden realisation of their own fatigue the Freshers turned to follow her example. Helen Ross joined them on their way along the corridors, and Darsie could not resist expressing her appreciation of the auctioneer's wit.

"She was delicious. I _have_ enjoyed it. She _is_ amusing and clever."

"Think so?" said Helen coolly. "Really? Glad you were pleased. It's usually _far_ better than that!"

With a curt good-night she turned into her own room, and the two friends made haste to follow her example.

The banked-up fires burned warm and red; the scattered oddments had been hidden from sight in the "coffin's" rapacious maw; photographs and knick-knacks gave a homy look to the rooms which had looked so bare and bleak twenty-four hours before. The Freshers tumbled into bed and fell happily asleep.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

FIRST EXPERIENCES.

During the first month at Newnham Darsie and Hannah fell gradually and happily into the routine of college life. They grew to recognise their companions by name, and to place them according to their several "shops"; they entertained cocoa parties in their rooms; picked up slang terms, and talked condescendingly of "townees"; they paid up subscriptions to "Hall," "Games," "Flowers," and "Fic"; slept, played, and laughed and talked, and, above all, _worked_, with heart and mind, and with every day that pa.s.sed were more convinced that to be a student at Cambridge was the most glorious fate that any girl could desire.

A week after the beginning of term Helen Ross, the fortunate possessor of a double room, gave a tea-party, with one of the younger Dons as chaperon, to which Dan Vernon and a companion were invited. Ostensibly the party was given in Hannah's honour, but to her astonishment and dismay Hannah's friend was not favoured with an invitation, and felt her first real twinge of loneliness in the knowledge that two old friends were making merry together but a few yards away, while she sat solitary and alone. What she had done to incur Helen Ross's dislike Darsie could not imagine, and, fortunately for herself, she was too large-hearted to suspect that it arose simply from an unattractive girl's jealousy of one whom all had combined to love and admire. Be that as it may, Darsie was left out of the tea-party, and her subsequent cross-questionings of Hannah were far from comforting.

"Had a good time?"

"Top hole."

"Nice people there?"

"Topping."

"Good cakes?"

"Scrum!"

"Dan ask for me?"

"No."

"Then he ought to have done!" Darsie told herself indignantly, and her thoughts flew off to Ralph Percival, wondering when she would see him next, and recalling with pleasure his promise to "see her through."

The approach of the Freshers' hockey match banished less important topics, for Hannah was on edge with anxiety to be at her best, and disport herself sufficiently well to be included in after-team practices, while Darsie was scarcely less eager on her behalf.

When the afternoon arrived and the match began, the second and third year girls crowded to look on, while the Captain stood apart surrounded by a few satellites from the Committee, as truly the monarch of all she surveyed as any king who ever graced a throne. The thoughts of each Fresher turned with an anguish of appeal towards this figure; a smile on her face raised them to the seventh heaven; a frown laid them in the dust! Extraordinary to think that two short years ago this oracle had been a Fresher like themselves! Inconceivable to imagine that in two years to come they themselves might occupy that same magnificent alt.i.tude!

The eyes of the Oracle fell upon Hannah and approved what she saw, and henceforth Hannah took part in team practices, and lorded it over Darsie, who in her turn affected a growing antagonism to the game.

"You can have too much of a good thing--even of games--and I seem to have _eaten_ hockey every meal since I arrived!" she announced impatiently; and in truth, since an unwritten law forbade the discussion of "shop" at table, the conversation was largely limited to dissertations on this the most popular of games.

On Sundays the two girls went together to King's College Chapel and gazed with admiration at the vaulted stone roof, with its marvellous fan tracery; at its towering stained-gla.s.s windows, and the screen bearing the monogram of Anne Boleyn; at the delicate carving of the stalls. It was so wonderfully different from the dreary town edifice in which they had been accustomed to worship, with its painted walls, heavy gallery, and wheezy organ played by an indifferent musician--so wonderfully, gloriously different that Darsie felt a p.r.i.c.king at the back of her eyes as though she were ready to cry for sheer pleasure and admiration. The music and the sermon seemed alike perfect, and Darsie ardently followed each stage of the service.

Some people are inclined to grow frivolous and forgetful when the world goes well with them and the desire of their hearts is accomplished; others are filled with a pa.s.sion of grat.i.tude and thanksgiving, and Darsie Garnett belonged to the latter category. Prosperity made her more humble, more kindly, more overflowing with love to G.o.d and man. A portrait of Lady Hayes stood on her study mantelpiece, and every morning and evening she bent her sunny head to kiss the stern old face. Dear old Aunt Maria! she had so loved being kissed--_really_ kissed, as if one meant it. If in that higher life to which she had gone she knew what was happening on earth, Darsie felt sure that she would like to know that her portrait was still cherished. Her thoughts hovered gratefully about the dead woman as she sat in this wonderful old church, and pictured with awe the succeeding generations who had worshipped within its walls. It was only when the sermon was at an end that, turning her head, Darsie met the gaze of a girl sitting a few seats away, and after a moment of bewilderment recognised the widely set eyes and curling lips of Margaret France.

In her dark hat and coat she looked less attractive than in evening dress, but the fact made no difference in the thrill of pleasure with which Darsie realised her presence. Some quality in this girl appealed to the deep places of her heart; she realised instinctively that if the attraction were mutual the tie between them would be close and firm, but it must be all or nothing--she could never dally with friendship with Margaret France!

Walking home slowly along Silver Street, she found herself answering absently to Hannah's remarks, her whole attention riveted on watching the pa.s.sers-by, wondering if by any possibility Margaret France would stop to speak to her once more, and her heart leaped with exultation as a footstep paused by her side, and the clear, crisp tones addressed her by name.

"Morning, Miss Garnett! Morning, Miss Vernon! Ripping day, isn't it?

Glad to see you in King's. Saw you long before you spotted me, and enjoyed your enjoyment. Never forgot my first services. Good to be there, isn't it?"

"Oh-h!" Darsie's deep-drawn breath of rapture was an eloquent response.

"I _have_ been happy! I've never in my life seen anything so wonderful before. It seems almost too good to be true that I can go there every Sunday for years to come. Cambridge is wonderful. I am more enchanted every day. Even to walk along the streets is a joy."

"Good!" cried Margaret heartily. "Drop in to five o'clock service sometimes when you're feeling tired, and tied up with your work. It's a grand soother. How goes the work so far? Enjoying the lectures?

Finding the literature interesting?"

The two Modern Languages discussed work together eagerly, while mathematical Hannah marched on a few feet ahead. Darsie felt a pang of remorse, because she could not help wishing that she would _stay_ ahead, and so give the chance of a prolonged _tete-a-tete_ with Margaret France. The feeling of attraction was so strong now that they were face to face that it was only by an effort of will that she could resist slipping her hand through the black serge arm, but the expression of her face was eloquent, and Margaret smiled back well pleased. When they parted a few minutes later to go to their different halls, the older girl said casually, but in a lowered voice which showed that the invitation was meant for Darsie alone--

"By the way, I'm at home for cocoa on Tuesday evenings at ten. Bring your milk, and come along, will you! I'd like to have you."

"Rather!" cried Darsie eloquently, and ran up to her room aglow with delight and pride, which grew still deeper at lunch when a casual reference to the invitation (it was really impossible to keep silent on so thrilling a point!) evoked a wide stare of surprise.

"To her Tuesdays! Are you sure? n.o.body goes to those but her very boon companions. You _are_ honoured!"

"Didn't ask _me_, I notice!" sniffed Hannah huffily. "No twin soul here. Recognised an affinity in you, I suppose."

"Well, _I_ wasn't asked to play in team matches! Don't grudge me my little score!" returned Darsie, knowing well that an honour in sport was more to her companion than many cocoas. "Besides, you must remember you have Helen Ross!"