There were plenty of other men at the wedding. "We're the only girls in the whole family," Charlotte, Ethel's younger sister explained, "and we have thirty own cousins, most of them grown-up."

"Was that one of the thirty that you were sitting on the stairs with at the dance?" inquired Mary Brooks sweetly.

Charlotte blushed and Bob flew to her rescue. "We all know why Mary isn't monopolizing any one," she said. "Are you taking notes for future use, Mary?"

Mary shrugged her shoulders loftily. "I scorn to answer such nonsense,"

she retorted. "I'm going to be an old maid and make matches for all my friends."

"We'll come and be posts for you any time after commencement," Babe a.s.sured her amiably. "Did you know, girls, that Mary can't stay over with Madeline because her mother is giving a New Year's dinner-party.

Who do you suppose will be there?"

The wedding festivities were over at last. "It was all perfectly scrumptious," Babe wrote Babbie enthusiastically, "and I'm bringing you a little white satin slipper like those we had filled with puffed rice for luncheon favors, and a lovely pin that Miss Hale wants you to have just as if you had come. The nicest thing of all is that vacation isn't over yet. Is it two weeks or two years since I saw you?"

And next came Bohemia. Before they had quite reached Washington Square Madeline tumbled her guests hastily off their car.

"I forgot to tell Mrs. McLean when to expect us," she explained. "She is our cook. So we'll hunt her up now and we might as well buy the luncheon as we go along."

So first they found Mrs. McLean, a placid old Scotch woman who was not at all surprised when Madeline announced that she was giving a house-party for five and had forgotten to mention it sooner. She had a delicious Scotch burr and an irresistible way of standing in the dining-room door and saying, "Come awa', my dears," when she had served a meal. Like everything else connected with the Ayres establishment, she was always there when you wanted her; between times she disappeared mysteriously, leaving the kitchen quite clear for Madeline and her guests, and always turning up in time to wash the fudge-pan or the chafing-dishes.

From Mrs. McLean's they went down a dirty, narrow street, stopping at a number of funny, foreign-looking fruit and grocery shops, where they bought whatever anybody wanted.

"Though it doesn't matter what you have to eat," said Roberta later, pouring cream into her coffee from an adorable little Spanish jug, "as long as you have it on this lovely old china."

They had their coffee in the studio, sitting around the open fire, and while they were drinking it people began to drop in--Mr. Blake, who roomed just across the Square, a pretty, pale girl, who was evidently an artist because every one congratulated her on having some things "on the line" somewhere, three newspaper men from the flat above, who being on a morning daily had just gotten up and stopped in to say "Happy New Year"

on their way down to Park Row, and a jolly little woman whom the others called Mrs. Bob.

"She's promised to chaperon us," Madeline explained to her guests. "She lives down-stairs, so we can't go in or out without falling into her terrible clutches."

Mrs. Bob, who was in a corner playing with the little black kitten that seemed to belong with the house, like Mrs. McLean, stopped long enough to ask if they had heard about the theatre party. They had not, so Mr.

Blake explained that by a sudden change of bill at one of the theatres Mr. Sothern and Miss Marlowe were to give "The Merchant of Venice" that evening.

"And I understand from Miss Watson that you people are particularly interested in that play," he added, "so I've corraled some tickets and Mrs. Bob and a bunch of men."

"And the Carletons will have an early dinner," put in Mrs. Bob. "Oh, I forgot. You don't know about that either. Mrs. Carleton won't be back from the country until four o'clock, so she asked me to give you the invitation to have New Year's dinner with them."

"But did she know there were six of us?" asked Betty anxiously, whereupon everybody laughed and Mrs. Bob a.s.sured her that Mrs. Carleton had mentioned seven to her, and hadn't seemed in the least worried.

That was the way things went all through their visit. Mrs. Bob took them shopping, with frequent intermissions for cakes and tea at queer little tea-rooms, with alluring names like "The London m.u.f.fin Room," or the "Yellow Tea-Pot." Her husband escorted them to the east-side bra.s.s-shops, a.s.suring them solemnly that it wasn't everybody he showed his best finds to, and mourning when their rapturous enthusiasm prevented his getting them a real bargain. The newspaper men gave a "breakfast-luncheon" for them--breakfast for themselves, and luncheon for their guests--which was so successful that it was continued that same evening by a visit to a Russian puppet-show and supper in a Chinese restaurant. The pretty artist sold one of her pictures and invited them to help her celebrate, just as if they were old friends, who knew how hard she had struggled and how often she hadn't had money enough to buy herself bread and b.u.t.ter, to say nothing of offering jam--in the shape of oysters on the half-sh.e.l.l and lobster Newburg--to other people.

It was all so gay and light-hearted and unexpected--the way things happened in Bohemia. n.o.body hurried or worried, though everybody worked hard. It was just as Madeline had told them, only more so. The girls said a sorrowful good-bye to Mrs. Bob, Mrs. McLean and the little black kitten and journeyed back to Harding sure that there never had been and never would be another such vacation for them.

"How can there be?" said Bob dejectedly. "At Easter we shall all have to get clothes, and after that we shan't know a vacation from mid-year week."

"Which delightful function begins in exactly fourteen days," said Katherine Kittredge. "Is there anybody here present whose notes on Hegel have the appearance of making sense?"

19-- took its senior midyears gaily and quite as a matter of course, lectured its undercla.s.s friends on the evils of cramming, and kept up its spirits by going coasting with Billy Henderson, Professor Henderson's ten-year-old son, who had admired college girls ever since he found that Bob Parker could beat him at steering a double-runner.

Between times they bought up the town's supply of "The Merchant of Venice,"--"not to learn any part, you know, but because we're interested in our play," each purchaser explained to her friends.

For there is no use in proclaiming your aspirations to be a Portia or a Shylock until you are sure that your dramatic talent is going to be appreciated. Of course there were exceptions to this rule, but the girl who said at a campus dinner-table, "If I am Portia, who is there tall enough for Ba.s.sanio?" became a college proverb in favor of keeping your hopes to yourself, and everybody was secretly delighted when she decided that she "really didn't care" to be in the mob.

CHAPTER X

TRYING FOR PARTS

"Teddie Wilson has gone and got herself conditioned in psych.,"

announced Bob Parker, bouncing unceremoniously through Betty's half-open door.

"Oh, Bob!" Betty's tone was fairly tragic. "Does that mean that she can't try for a part in the play?"

Bob nodded. "Cast-iron rule. And she'd have made a perfect Gobbo, young or old, and a stunning Gratiano. Well, her being out of it will give K.

a better chance."

"But I'm sure Katherine wouldn't want her chance to come this way," said Betty sadly. "Besides--oh, Bob, have you looked at the bulletin-board this afternoon?"

"Babe did," said Bob with a grin, "so you needn't worry yet, my child.

Ted says she ought to have expected it, because she'd cut a lot and let things go awfully,--depended on the--faculty--knowing--us--well--enough-- by--this--time--to--pa.s.s--over--any small--deficiencies, and all that sort of talk. And this just shows, she says, how well they do know her.

She's awfully plucky about it, but she cares. I didn't suppose Ted had it in her to care so about anything," declared Bob solemnly. "But of course it's a lot to lose--the star comedy part that was going to be handed out to her by her admiring little cla.s.smates, who think that n.o.body can act like Teddie. I wish I was as sure of a part in the mob."

"What are you going to try for, Bob?" asked Betty sympathetically.

Bob blushed. "Oh, I don't know," she said, with a fine a.s.sumption of indifference. "Everybody says that you ought to begin at the top and then the grateful committee won't forget to throw you a crumb when they get to pa.s.sing out the 'supers.'" Bob paused and her air of unconcern dropped from her like a mask. "I say, Betty, I do want my family to be proud of me for once. Promise you won't laugh if I come up for Ba.s.sanio."

"Of course I won't," said Betty indignantly. "I'm sure you'll make love beautifully. Do you know who's going to try for Shylock?"

"Only Jean Eastman," said Bob, "and Christy and Emily are thinking of it. I came up from down-town with Jean just now. She thinks she's got a sure thing, though of course she isn't goose enough to say so. If Kate Denise gets Portia, as everybody seems to think she will, it will be quite like freshman year, with the Hill crowd on top all around. I think Jean has been aiming for that, and I also think--you don't mind if I say it, Betty?"

"I haven't the least idea what you're going to say," laughed Betty, "but I don't believe I shall mind."

"Well," said Bob earnestly, "I think Jean's counting on you to help her with her Shylock deal."

"I help her!" said Betty in bewilderment. "How could I?"

"What a little innocent you are, Betty Wales," declared Bob. "Have you forgotten that you are on the all-powerful play-committee, and that you five and Miss Kingston, head of the elocution department, practically decide upon the cast?"

"Oh!" said Betty slowly. "But I can't see why Jean should expect me to push her, of all people."

"She'll remind you why," said Bob, "or perhaps she expects me to do it for her. Can't you honestly think of anything that she might make a handle of?"

Betty considered, struggling to recall her recent meetings with Jean.

"She has been extra-cordial lately," she said, "but she hasn't done anything in particular--oh, Bob, I know what you mean. She expects me to help her because she nominated me for the committee."

Bob nodded. "As if fifty other people wouldn't have done it if she hadn't. I may be wrong, Betty, but she had a lot to say all the way up from Cuyler's about how glad she was that you were on the committee, how she felt you were the only one for the place and was glad the girls agreed with her, how hard she had talked you up beforehand, and so on,--all about her great and momentous efforts in your behalf. I told her that Miss Ferris said once that you had a perfect command of the art of dress and that every one knew you planned the costumes for the Belden play and for the Dramatic Club's masque last spring, also that Barbara Gordon particularly wanted you on if she was chairman, so I didn't see that you needed any great amount of talking up. But she laughed her horrid, sarcastic little laugh and said she guessed I hadn't had much experience with cla.s.s politics."

Betty's eyes flashed angrily. "And in return for what she did, she expects me to work for her, no matter whether or not I think she would make the best Shylock. Is that what you mean, Bob?"