She forgot her own anger of an hour before and turned wrathfully on her guests. "Commend me to Soph.o.m.ores for superlative rudeness and a total disregard of the feelings of others. These articles belong to my room-mate. She just came. She hasn't met any of the girls yet, and you have given her a beautiful welcome, haven't you?" Dolly's cheeks burned like coals of fire. She spoke in a low tone so that her words should not be heard in the adjoining room, but every syllable was vibrant with feeling.

The Soph.o.m.ores looked ashamed. "Bring her out and let me apologize,"

begged Winifred.

"And make a bad matter worse? Not much. We will all go out for a walk until dinner-time. I hope," added Dolly, severely, "that when I become a Soph.o.m.ore I shall not forget all my manners."

"Come, my dear, cool down," Charlotte Graves said languidly, putting her own arm through Dolly's. "It strikes me that you have forgotten your manners already to talk so to your own guests."

There was a ripple of laughter at this, and Dolly looked a trifle shamefaced. "I was making general remarks," she said loftily.

"Come on, we shall forgive you this once, and Winifred shall eat humble-pie for your room-mate's benefit at the first opportunity. As cla.s.s president I decree it."

There by tacit consent, the subject dropped. The girls had a pleasant walk, and when the dinner-gong sounded, Dolly hurried up to her room; she knew that she would not find her room-mate very congenial, but at least she would not be so selfish as to let Miss Sutherland go down to the dining-room alone, on this first night.

As she opened the door of their common sitting-room she stopped in amazement.

CHAPTER III

She looked around with a gasp of surprise, and then rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming. All of her own dainty trifles were back in place. Every vestige of the obnoxious red decorations had vanished.

Dolly felt a sudden moisture in her eyes. The poor girl! She knocked lightly on Miss Sutherland's door. There was a faint stir inside, but no response. Dolly hesitated, and then boldly opened the door.

"Excuse me, please, for coming in when you did not ask me to, but I was sure you were here, and you must come down to dinner at once."

"I am not going down tonight."

"Indeed you are," Dolly said, after one comprehensive look at the mottled, tear-stained face before her. "The students must all be on hand promptly for meals. I cannot take you to my table, for that is full now, and we have been given our permanent places for the term, but I will introduce you to Professor Newton; there is a vacant place at her table, I know. You will like her, I am sure."

Miss Sutherland gave her room-mate a curious look, started to say something, changed her mind, and then got up from the bed and commenced to brush her hair back with nervous, impatient fingers.

"Don't do that," Dolly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed suddenly, "can't you see how much better you look when your hair lies loosely, so as to soften the outlines of your face? Here, give me the brush."

She took the brush and comb from Miss Sutherland's hand, pushed her down into a chair, and worked rapidly for two or three minutes. "There, the last bell will ring in a second and there is no time to fuss with it longer tonight, but can't you see how much better it looks? You have such lovely hair that it is too bad to spoil it."

"Mother always liked it combed straight back," was all Miss Sutherland vouchsafed, speaking in a very distant tone.

Dolly flushed. Would she never learn to be less impetuous, she wondered, and to mind her own business? She felt like a child of three, whose ears had been soundly boxed.

"There was no need, Miss Sutherland, for you to change the arrangement of the sitting-room. Of course you have rights there as well as I."

The matter had better be settled now, Dolly thought, at once and forever.

"I suppose red and pink would hardly answer in the same room at the same time, but we might agree on some third color together, and you fix part of the room and I part, or else you could have charge of the sitting-room one month and I the next. Which plan would you prefer?"

Dolly listened anxiously for the reply. It did not seem probable that her room-mate would feel that she could afford to buy new furnishings, and how could Dolly ever stand the red atrocities for five months, even if her beloved belongings were to be used for the other five?

There was no hesitancy in Miss Sutherland's answer. "I can't afford to waste any more money on things for my room, and I shan't put up my mother's work for those fools to laugh at, so I guess the sitting-room, as you call it, will likely stay as it is."

Dolly felt uncomfortable. Miss Sutherland had a way of putting things that made one seem very small. It was clear, from the tone of her voice, that she worshiped her mother, and Dolly could see how the ridicule of her mother's handiwork had hurt the girl's feelings.

"You must remember," she said gently, "that the sitting-room is as much yours as mine. Forgive me if I had seemed to take complete possession of it before you came."

"That won't matter, I guess; I don't suppose I shall be in it much, anyway. I don't seem to belong there."

The dinner-gong sounded at that moment, and Miss Sutherland went into the hall, Dolly following in a very perturbed frame of mind. "I will take you to Professor Newton now," she remarked as they reached the dining-room door.

"I don't reckon that you need to, I know Professor Newton," Miss Sutherland returned, with the queer little smile that Dolly again failed to note.

"Oh, you met her when you came, did you? Good-bye, then, for a few minutes," and Dolly crossed the room to Miss Randall's table, where Elizabeth was waiting for her. Their seats were next each other, and after the meal had fairly commenced, Dolly told her all that had transpired up in her room.

Elizabeth gave a soft whistle. "I pity you, my dear; you see you have a tender conscience, and you are going to bother yourself about Miss Sutherland all of the time. Now, if I were you, I should never give her another thought, especially as your room has returned to its normal condition."

"You slander yourself," Dolly retorted, "didn't you act the part of a good Samaritan to me?"

"Oh, you--you are different! Don't you know that you are going to be one of the most popular girls here? You are pretty and bright, and friendly with everyone."

"Hush up, Beth."

"How came you to call me that?"

Elizabeth's tone was queer, and Dolly turned to look at her.

"'Beth,' do you mean? It is often a nickname of Elizabeth, you know, and I have always loved the name since the days of Miss Alcott's 'Little Women.' Don't you like it?"

"Yes, I like it, but no one has called me by it for years, and when you said it just now, I felt absolutely startled."

"I will not use it again if you would rather I did not."

"I would rather that you did, however," and then Elizabeth joined in the general conversation around the table. Dolly wondered if she did it to avoid further questioning.

The college soon settled down to the regular routine of work. Before a month had pa.s.sed, the Freshmen knew who their best students were, and who stood a chance of being elected cla.s.s officers. The other three cla.s.ses had held their elections at the end of the first fortnight, their old officers holding over until that time.

It was an unwritten law, however, that the Freshmen should wait for their cla.s.s elections until Thanksgiving time; that would afford opportunity for them to get acquainted with each other, and to determine who were the most suitable candidates.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Beth and Dolly were discussing it one day as they took their usual walk.]

It was an all-important subject in the eyes of the Freshmen, and so, not unnaturally, Beth and Dolly were discussing it one day as they took their usual walk.

"I believe that Margaret Hamilton will be elected president," predicted Dolly. "She is so tall and handsome, she would be such a magnificent president."

"She knows it," returned Beth dryly. "She has been posing for it ever since the term opened. She dresses for it, talks for it, and is always working for it--not openly, but in a hundred little subtle ways."

"You don't like Margaret."

"Not to any great extent, I'll confess. I would much rather see you cla.s.s president."

"Me? I haven't any dignity, and you know it."