But Mrs. Alden rose hastily to her feet. "You girls must all get to bed and to sleep as soon as possible. The boys have plans for every moment of the day, and you will want to feel fresh tomorrow. Dolly, you may come over to my room for just a few minutes."

The next morning there was a drive through the lovely suburbs of the city, then they came back to the Thanksgiving dinner; in the evening there was a fine concert to which Mr. Alden took them all. Friday and Sat.u.r.day were full of fun and pleasure. Sunday evening came all too soon.

Dolly was having a quiet chat in the library with Fred and her mother.

The rest were all in the drawing-room.

"I have been very much astonished at the way our guests paired off.

Naturally, one would think that Mr. Steele would care to talk to Mary rather than to Beth. Mary knows what hard work and life on a farm mean.

She would not be at college now, if some aunt were not paying her tuition; she told me so. I supposed that she and Mr. Steele would have ever so many things in common, but I never see them talking together at all. Mr. Martin seems really to find Mary very attractive, and Mr.

Steele devotes most of his time to Beth, who is certainly his opposite in every particular."

"That is just the reason Steele likes her, I presume," Fred rejoined with an air of superior wisdom. "The attraction of opposites, you know; though, for that matter, Steele quite approves of you. He thinks you are a remarkably nice little girl, for he told me so."

"How horribly condescending of him," Dolly said, tilting her chin upward.

Fred laughed. It was great fun to tease Dolly. "He thinks you did a remarkably fine thing in throwing the cla.s.s presidency to that cla.s.smate of yours who voted for herself. By the way, her name was Hamilton, I remember; she wasn't that girl of whom Bob was talking the other night, was she?"

Dolly flushed. "Tell Fred the whole story, dear, you can trust your brother."

So Dolly told it, and whatever Fred thought, he kept to himself, merely promising not to mention the affair to anyone. Mrs. Alden sent the girls off to bed at an early hour, for, as Beth said, they must be awake at a most unearthly time. The boys set their alarm clock in order to be up to see the girls off. They, themselves, were not obliged to go until a later train.

"We have had just a beautiful time, Mrs. Alden," Beth declared that evening. "I can't tell how much it has meant to me. I want Dolly to go home with me as soon as you can spare her, but I suppose you will want her at Christmas?"

"Perhaps we could arrange a compromise," Mrs. Alden returned smilingly; "you might stop here for a week, and then we _might_ agree to loan you Dolly for the remaining time."

"I do wish you would. I would be more glad than I can tell you. I am going to consider that point settled, and I thank you a thousand times.

Dolly, I want to tell you something about that room-mate of mine when we get upstairs. I've meant to do it all vacation, and our jolly times have just crowded it out of my head."

CHAPTER VI

But it was not until they were on the train the next day, that an opportunity came for Beth to tell her story. There had been a jolly, sleepy crowd that had eaten the early breakfast and then gone down to the station. The boys had supplied them well with magazines, flowers and boxes of candy. To Mary Sutherland it was all like a new world--the handsome house, the elegant furnishings, the plenty and comfort that pervaded the whole atmosphere, and while that part was nothing at all new to Beth, she, too, felt as if she were in a new world, for it was a world in which the home-atmosphere was sweet and wholesome, blessed as it was with love and mutual forbearance.

The good-byes were all said at last, and Dolly had to wink hard to keep back the tears. "Do you remember how homesick I was in September, Beth, and how you came to the rescue like a good angel? What should I have done without you? It will be only a month now until the Christmas holidays, and I certainly ought to be able to stand it four weeks without getting lonesome."

"You should have seen what a forlorn object she was, Mary," interrupted Beth. "She sat on the edge of her bed looking as if she had not a friend in all the world."

"In all the college, you mean, and I had not, either, until you walked in. I shall bless you forever for that deed of humanity. Even my room-mate was missing then; you stayed for the marriage of a sister, did you not, Mary?"

"Yes, and I am afraid that I was not much comfort to you after I _did_ appear. I didn't mean to be dictatorial and horrid, but I am afraid that--"

"You were nothing but what was all right, Mary," Dolly interrupted.

"We were not acquainted at first, that was all."

"I was not nice, but I meant to be, and I'll try to fit in better hereafter. You should have had Beth for a room-mate, though I'm too selfish to propose any change this year."

"We can all three be good friends, Mary, so far as that goes, but I certainly wish that some other room-mate had been allotted to me than Margery Ainsworth."

"You were going to tell us something about her, Beth; now is a good opportunity."

"Very well, only you girls must understand that I am telling this in confidence, because I want your advice. I don't know whether it is my duty to say anything or not. Of course, girls don't like to be tell-tales any more than boys do, but it seems to me that the good name of the college is more or less concerned in this, and we cannot afford to have any girl do things which would bring us into disrepute."

"Of course not," Dolly said energetically. "Well, what is it?"

"In the first place, she systematically breaks all of the rules. I cannot room with her, of course, and not know that. She probably depends upon my good nature or sense of honor not to give her away. She never reports any broken rule, and she goes downtown whenever she feels inclined, and only once a month or so gets permission. I imagine that she goes for some reason instead of shopping, for she never has any bundles sent home. The worst thing, in my mind, was a couple of Sundays ago. She pretended to go to church with the rest of us, but she did not; she went off some place else and appeared again just as church was over. She went back to the college with the rest of us. I did ask her what she had been doing that time."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing very satisfactory. She wanted to know if I would like an outline of the sermon, and she proceeded to give me the text and some of the leading points. Of course, she heard all of the girls discussing it at the table, for it was the day that Dr. Hyde preached, and we were all intensely interested."

"Where do you suppose she was?" It was Mary Sutherland who asked the question.

"I really have not the faintest idea. I know, though, that she was some place where, of course, she could not have gotten permission to go, had she asked, for otherwise she would never have run the risk she ran. The faculty do not overlook that sort of thing readily."

"She would certainly be suspended at the least."

"Well, I cannot go and tell any one of the professors what she does, but I wish something would happen to make her more careful. I don't like to have the college girls talked about. I feel jealous of our good name."

Beth looked perplexed and worried. All three of the girls knew that Margery Ainsworth had violated one of the strictest rules, and she could only have done it in order to achieve some end which the faculty would never have countenanced. It was not pleasant for Beth to room with a girl as utterly devoid of principle as Margery Ainsworth daily proved herself to be. It was inevitable that they should be thrown more or less together. Margery was no student at all, and she and Beth really had no ideas in common.

"This is the second secret that has come our way this vacation," Dolly said. "Such secrets are not nice. I hope we shall not be compelled to hear any more. First, we learned more about our president's life than she would probably care to have us know, and now comes this, which is, of course, a thousand times worse. As far as I am concerned, I have no suggestions to offer."

"As I understand the matter, you want her forced to obey the rules, but at the same time you are not going to tell any member of the faculty about her."

"Of course I am not," Beth said indignantly. "That is simply out of the question."

"And yet, for her own sake, it would be much better if the faculty knew something of her doings. She cannot go into town so often for any good purpose. She may be getting into mischief that she will repent all of her after-life."

"Very true, still I can say nothing."

"Will you let me see what I can do?"

"That would be the same as doing it myself, Mary, and then trying to sneak out of a mean act by putting it on your shoulders."

"If you are willing to trust me, I will not tell anything definite.

I will not mention your name, or tell what Miss Ainsworth has done.

I shall merely make sure that she will be so warned and hedged in hereafter, that she will not dare to break the rules again. And this ought to be done, Elizabeth, both for her own sake and the sake of the college."

"My dear infant, do you suppose for a moment that you could make the indefinite statement which you propose, to any member of the faculty, and not have a full explanation demanded at once of everything that has been done?"

"That would be true, usually, I know--"

"But--" Beth's voice sounded a trifle impatient--"do you think you could manage the professors better than the rest of us?"

"Not all of them," Mary returned serenely, "but I probably can Professor Newton, because, you see, she is my aunt."

"What!" The amazement in her companions' voices made Mary leap back and burst into laughter.