Grace Harlowe\'s Problem
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Jessie Graham Flower >> Grace Harlowe\'s Problem
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"What a shame!" exclaimed Evelyn, sympathetically. "I know just how
worried you must feel. Just wait a second." She picked up the check,
which was for a small amount, went over to the desk, and paid the bill.
Then she hurried back to her companion. "Everything is all right now,"
she declared, "but if you have no money you had better come with me. I
will introduce you to Miss Harlowe. My name is Evelyn Ward."
"Miss Harlowe, of Harlowe House?" interrupted the girl.
"Yes, do you know her?"
"I don't know her yet, but I'm going to live at Harlowe House. So I
expect to know her. My name is Jean Brent. Perhaps you've heard of me. A
friend of mine helped me to get the chance to live at Harlowe House."
"Have I heard of you?" laughed Evelyn. "I should say I had. Isn't it
funny how things happen? Why, you are to be my roommate."
CHAPTER V
THE LOCKED DOOR
When Evelyn and Jean Brent reached the street it was to find the other
young women grouped together in conversation, and not at all alarmed at
Evelyn's non-appearance.
"We weren't worried," Emma Dean assured her. "We've all been known to
lag and loiter."
"I lagged and loitered to some purpose," defended Evelyn. "Miss Harlowe,
this is Miss Brent, my roommate." She introduced the stranger to the
others.
Grace's hand was extended in surprised welcome. "We have been looking
for you since Monday," she said. "You are the girl who sat at the end
table at Vinton's. If I had known you were Miss Brent I would have asked
you to join us. I am so glad Miss Ward broke the ice. How did it
happen?"
"I had lost my purse," returned the girl, rather shyly, in spite of her
air of self-possession. Then reassured by Grace's charming manner, she
told her story.
"You must come with us to Harlowe House at once. It is such a pity that
you met with misfortune." Grace's gray eyes were full of sympathy.
"Have you much luggage?"
"Four trunks," was the rueful answer. "You see I have so many clothes
that--" She stopped abruptly, a deep flush dying her fair skin, "I had
no place--I did not like to leave them, so I had to bring them with me,"
she finished, rather lamely.
Grace did not ask further questions. She noted that the girl was ill at
ease. "I received Miss Lipton's letter regarding you a week ago," she
hastened to say. "I wrote her, as you know, that we could place you. She
answered saying we might expect you at almost any time. After you have
had a chance to rest and make yourself comfortable I will tell you of
Harlowe House and the girls who live there."
One after the other the girls spoke friendly, encouraging words to the
unfortunate freshman. Kathleen and Patience possessed themselves of her
heavy bag, carrying it between them. Grace walked with the newcomer,
pointing out the various interesting features of the little college
town, in an attempt to put the stranger entirely at her ease after her
disquieting experience. So far she had had slight opportunity to observe
this latest freshman arrival. She had a vague idea that Jean Brent was
an unusually attractive girl, but the side view she obtained of her, as
they walked along, was far from satisfactory. The newcomer said little,
and only once during the short walk to Harlowe House did she turn a pair
of very blue eyes directly upon Grace.
It fell to Evelyn Ward to show her to her room, as she was to be
Evelyn's roommate. The girl had exclaimed a little, after the manner of
girls, at the attractiveness of Harlowe House, but in spite of her brief
flare of enthusiasm over the house and grounds, the tasteful living room
and the daintiness of the room she and Evelyn occupied, she encased
herself in a curious, impenetrable shell of mystery that Evelyn's
natural curiosity could find no excuse to penetrate. She listened
gravely and attentively to all that Evelyn told her of Harlowe House and
its lucky household, but she volunteered no information concerning
herself except a reluctant, "I came from the West," in answer to her
roommate's question as to where she lived.
The more Evelyn observed her the more attractive she appeared. She was
of medium height, and, although plump, could not be called stout. Her
face was rather round, with no suggestion of fatness, while her features
were small and regular. Her eyes were not large, but their intense
blueness made them a significant feature of her face. Her hair was light
brown and had a burnished look in the sun. It grew thickly upon her
well-shaped head, and she wore it in a graceful knot at the back of her
head. When she smiled, which had been but once since Evelyn first
encountered her, she displayed unusually white, even teeth. It dawned
upon Evelyn as she watched her unpacking her bag that Jean Brent had not
only her share of good looks but a curious power of attraction as well
that would carry her far toward college popularity if she chose to exert
it. She wondered if she and Jean would get along well together. Although
the new Evelyn had made great progress in ruling her own spirit she was
well aware of her failings. She was quite sure, in her own mind, that
never again would the love of beautiful clothes tempt her to dishonesty,
but of herself, in other respects, she was not so positive. Still she
had resolved to live up to the traditions of Overton College, to emulate
the splendid example Grace Harlowe had already set.
She glanced speculatively at her roommate, but the latter's calm,
impassive expression told her nothing. Suddenly, as though impelled by
Evelyn's gaze, the other girl glanced up and met Evelyn's eyes squarely.
"Well, what do you think of me?" she inquired. "I think _you_ are the
prettiest girl I ever saw."
Evelyn flushed at both the question and the compliment. Jean Brent was
nothing if not frank. "I know I'm going to like you. I was just
wondering if we would fit into each other's lives."
"I have a frightful temper," admitted Jean Brent somberly. "Sometimes
I'm glad of it. If I hadn't--" She paused.
Evelyn waited for her to continue, but she gave a quick sigh, and,
springing to her feet, walked to the window. From there she could look
out at the campus, still green and velvety. For at least five minutes
she stood staring out. Then, with the air of one who casts aside a
disagreeable memory, she turned from the window, saying: "I'm going to
forget everything except the fact that I'm actually an Overton girl."
"Were you anxious to come to Overton?" asked Evelyn.
"No. I came here because of the advantages Harlowe House offers. I heard
of it through a friend. I wanted to go to Smith, but--oh, well, here I
am at Overton. Let's talk about you. I know you are interesting. You
look just like the picture of a girl I saw in a magazine I was reading
on the train. She is an actress. I didn't stop to read her name, but I
loved her picture. I think I brought the magazine along. Oh, yes, there
it is." She reached for the magazine, which lay on the table, and turned
the leaves energetically. "Here is the picture," she declared. Evelyn
found herself gazing at her own likeness. She began to laugh.
"What's the matter?" demanded Jean. Her color rose in instant resentment
of Evelyn's laughter.
Evelyn pointed to the printed name under the picture. "I am Evelyn Ward,
you know."
"But not the _actress_?" Jean's blue eyes were wide with amazement.
Evelyn nodded laughingly. "That's my way of earning my tuition money and
my clothes," she explained. "I was never on the stage until last
summer." She went on to tell the astonished Jean of her meeting with the
Southards and her final stage debut.
"How interesting!" exclaimed Jean. "I suppose all the Harlowe House
girls earn their college fees. I wonder how I can earn mine. I had quite
a sum toward them when I left--" again came the abrupt stop. "Oh, dear,"
she sighed the next moment, "I wish I'd been more careful of my money. I
had no business to lay my bag down. What's the use of regretting? I'll
have to think of some way to raise that money. If I can't find it any
other way I can sell my clothes. I have perfectly _beautiful_ things.
Four trunks full. Lots more than I can wear. It is lucky for me that--"
She checked herself guiltily.
"That what?" asked Evelyn. She was beginning to feel a vague impatience
at the strange way in which Jean Brent chopped off her sentences. And
how recklessly she talked about selling her clothes.
"That I have you for a roommate," smiled the mysterious freshman. "I
wonder how much the expressman will charge to bring my trunks from the
station. Then, too, I wonder where I can put them. I wouldn't think of
spoiling the looks of our room with them."
"You can put one of them over in that corner," planned Evelyn, "and we
could get one into the closet. It's large and quite light. The other two
Miss Harlowe will allow you to leave in the trunk room."
"I suppose it will cost a small fortune to have them delivered,"
demurred Jean. "I can't have the sale, either, until I know some of the
girls who would be interested in my wares. I'll have to telegraph my
friend to send me some money. Will you go with me to the telegraph
office. I don't know the way. I'll ask Miss Harlowe to pay the
expressman. Then I'll pay her when my money comes. Frenzied finance,
isn't it? But if you knew--" Again that maddening break.
"I'll pay the expressman," volunteered Evelyn. "If I were you I'd talk
things over with Miss Harlowe. She knows that you lost your purse. Very
likely she has already thought of something you can do. I don't think
she would like to have you sell your clothes."
"I don't see why she should object," declared Jean, with quick
impatience. "However, I'll do my hair over again, and wash my face and
hands, then I'll go down stairs and have a talk with her. She said she'd
be in her office."
"Run down and talk with her now, then we'll go to the telegraph office,"
said Evelyn.
Twenty minutes later Jean entered the little office where Grace sat
engaged in the work she had been doing when interrupted by her friends
earlier in the afternoon. Like Evelyn, she was keenly alive to her
latest charge's good looks. "How attractive she is," was her thought as
she invited Jean to take the chair opposite hers.
"I suppose you would like to know something of our household, Miss
Brent," began Grace. "We are not only a household, but we are members of
a social club as well. You are the thirty-fourth girl. Last year Miss
Thirty-four never materialized, so Miss Ward roomed alone. There isn't
so so much to tell you regarding the rules and regulations of Harlowe
House. The club takes care of most of them with its constitution and
by-laws." Opening a drawer of her desk, Grace took out a paper-covered
booklet and handed it to the freshman. "This will give you nearly all
the necessary information," she said. "If I were in your place I would
go to the registrar's office reasonably early to-morrow morning. You can
then learn whether you will be obliged to take the entrance
examinations. Having been graduated from a preparatory school you may be
exempt. When did Miss Lipton's school close?"
"Last June," returned Jean briefly.
"But you have seen her since then, have you not? Her letter gave me the
impression that you had been with her recently. Do you live in Grafton,
or were you visiting Miss Lipton?"
The fair face opposite her own was suddenly flooded with red.
"I--I--was--on--a visit recently to Miss Lipton," she answered, with
reluctance. She did not volunteer the name of her home town.
For the first time Grace became aware of the curious reticence that had
vaguely annoyed Evelyn. "Where do you live, Miss Brent!" she asked with
the sudden directness so characteristic of her.
For a moment the girl did not reply, then her color receded, leaving
her face very white. "My home is in Chicago," she said slowly. "My
father and mother are dead. I have always lived with"--she
hesitated--"friends. Miss Lipton was a friend of my mother's. Surely her
word will not be questioned by the faculty." She glanced at Grace with a
half challenging air.
Something in her tone brought the color to Grace's cheeks. Why could not
this girl be perfectly frank in her replies? Now that Evelyn Ward had
turned out so beautifully, Grace had been looking forward to a year of
open comradeship with her girls, yet here she was face to face with what
promised to be one of those baffling natures that required especially
tactful handling to bring out the best that lay within it.
"I have no doubt that Miss Sheldon will place the utmost dependence in
Miss Lipton's word," returned Grace gravely.
"If she doesn't, I--oh, well, to-morrow will tell the tale. I wish you
would tell me more of Harlowe House. It is a wonderful place. I wanted
to go to Smith, but I believe this will be nicer after all. Only
I--shall--have to earn my college fees. Miss Ward said perhaps you would
help me think of a way to earn money. I have nothing in the world except
clothes, clothes, clothes. After I've been here for awhile I'd like to
have a sale of them. I have loads of lovely things. If I could only sell
enough of them to pay my fees."
"But you will need your clothing for your own use, will you not?" Jean
Brent was momently growing more inexplicable.
Jean shook her head energetically. "I don't care for clothes," she said
eagerly. "I could live in a coat suit and plenty of blouses all year. I
_do_ care for college, though. If I hadn't cared, I would never--" She
suddenly checked herself. "Do you think the girls would buy my things?"
she asked in the next instant. "They are nearly all new and fresh."
"I am sure they would be interested," was Grace's honest reply, "but I
cannot allow you to hold a sale of your wardrobe. I think such a
proceeding would be unwise. Why----"
"Please don't ask me why, Miss Harlowe, for I can't tell you." Jean had
risen to her feet, two pleading eyes fixed on Grace. "I can only say
that if I had not lost my money everything would be different. There are
strong reasons why I can't explain to you about my being without money,
yet having so many clothes, but I assure you that I have done nothing
wrong or dishonorable. If you are not satisfied with my explanation and
wish to send me away, of course I can only go, but if you are willing
to trust me and let me stay I'll try to do my best for you and Harlowe
House. I'm sorry you disapprove of my having a sale of my things."
Grace looked long at the earnest young face. Mystifying as were her
statements, Jean Brent had the appearance of honesty. Taking one of the
girl's hands in both her own, she said, "I don't in the least understand
you, Miss Brent, but I will respect your secret."
"Thank you so much for your kindness to me, Miss Harlowe." With an
almost distant nod the prospective freshman rose and left the office
with almost rude abruptness.
"What a strange girl," mused Grace.
Her musing was interrupted by the breezy entrance of Emma Dean. "Hello,
Gracious," she hailed. "Why so pensive?"
"I'm not pensive. I'm puzzled, and a little worried," returned Grace.
"Our latest arrival is a most complex study."
"I suspected it," was Emma's cheerful rejoinder. "One of the 'There was
the Door to which I found no Key' variety, so to speak."
"I'm going to tell you all about it," decided Grace, "for I need your
advice." She related her interview with Jean Brent.
"Miss Lipton, the head of the Lipton Preparatory School, at Grafton,
writes beautifully of Miss Brent," went on Grace. "I know the faculty
would consider her word sufficient to enroll this girl, but I feel that
I ought to be doubly careful to keep my household irreproachable. I
don't like mysteries when it comes to admitting a new girl to the fold.
Still, Miss Brent impresses me as being honest and sincere. Besides,
I've promised to help her."
"Don't worry, Gracious," advised Emma, "you may be harboring a princess
unawares. The Riddle may turn out to be the Shahess of Persia, or the
Grand Vizieress of Bagdad or some other royal person. She may be the
moving feature of a real Graustark plot."
"Stop being ridiculous, Emma, and tell me what I ought to do." Grace's
smooth forehead puckered in a frown which her laughing lips denied.
Emma was instantly serious. "We do not know just how much college may
mean to her," was her quick response. "If she chooses to shroud herself
in mystery, I believe it is because of something which concerns herself
alone."
There was a brief silence, then Grace said: "You are right. To be an
Overton girl may mean more to Jean Brent than we can possibly know. I'm
going to take her on faith. Perhaps she'll find college the key that
will unlock the door to perfect understanding."
CHAPTER VI
A CLUB MEETING AND A MYSTERY
"There!" exclaimed Louise Sampson as she succeeded in firmly
establishing at the top of the bulletin board a large white card,
bearing the significant legend, "Regular Meeting of the Harlowe House
Club. 8.00 P.M. Living Room. _Full Attendance, Please._"
A small, fair-haired girl came down the stairs and joined Louise at the
bulletin-board. She read the notice aloud. "Oh, dear, I've an engagement
with a girl at Wayne Hall to-night. I don't care to miss the meeting,
and I don't like to break my engagement," she mourned.
"I wish you would break it just this once, Hilda," said Louise
seriously. "I am anxious that every member of the club shall attend the
meeting to-night. I have something of importance to say to the girls."
Hilda Moore opened her blue eyes very wide. "What are you going to say,
Louise? Tell me, please. You see I made this engagement over a week ago.
If you'd just tell me now what it's all about, I wouldn't really need to
come to the club meeting. I could----"
"Keep your engagement," finished Louise, her eyes twinkling. "Really,
Hilda Moore, if you knew a tidal wave, or a cyclone or any other
calamity was due to demolish Overton I believe you'd go on making
engagements in the face of it."
Hilda giggled good-naturedly. She was a pretty, sunshiny girl of a pure
blonde type, and had been extremely popular during her freshman year at
Overton, not only with her fellow companions at Harlowe House, but as a
member of the freshman class as well. In spite of her round baby face,
and a carefree, little-girl manner that went with it, she was a capable
business woman and earned her college fees as stenographer to the dean.
The daughter of parents who were not able to send her to college, she
had not only prepared for college during her high-school days, but had
taken the business course included in the curriculum of the high school
which she attended, and had thus fitted herself to earn her way in the
Land of College.
Hilda's unfailing good nature was appreciated to the extent of making
her a welcome guest at the informal gatherings which were forever being
held in the various students' rooms after recitations were over for the
day. The consequence was that, as her studies and clerical duties left
her limited time for amusements, her precious recreation moments were
invariably promised to her friends many days in advance. In fact Hilda
Moore's "engagements" had grown to be a standing joke among them.
"Promise me on your bright new sophomore honor that you'll offer your
polite regrets to the other half of that important engagement of yours
and attend my meeting," appealed Louise.
"Well," Hilda looked concerned, "I _could_ see the girl this afternoon
and change the date." She smiled engagingly at Louise.
"Of course you _will_," Louise agreed, answering the smile. "You see I
know you, Hilda Moore."
"But I wouldn't do it for any one else except Miss Harlowe or Miss
Dean," was Hilda's positive assertion. "Mercy, look at the time! I'll
have to run for it if I expect to reach the office before Miss Wilder.
Good-bye."
Hilda was gone like a flash, leaving Louise to stare contemplatively at
the notice. As the president for the year of the Harlowe House Club she
felt deeply her responsibility. She had been unanimously elected at the
club's first meeting, greatly to her surprise.
Louise Sampson was perhaps better fitted to be president of the Harlowe
House Club than any other member of that interesting household. Emma
and Grace had agreed upon the point when, before the election, the
former's name had been mentioned as a probable candidate. This thought
sprang again to Grace's mind as she came from her office and saw Louise
still standing before the bulletin board, apparently deep in thought.
She turned at the sound of Grace's step.
"Oh, Miss Harlowe!" she exclaimed. "I do hope our meeting to-night will
be a success. Surely some one will have a real live idea for the club to
act upon."
"Thirty-four heads are better than one," smiled Grace. "There is
inspiration in numbers."
"We did wonderfully well with the caramels last year, and this year I
believe they will be more popular than ever. We made twice as many as
usual last Saturday, and sold them all. We were obliged to disappoint
quite a number of girls, too. Our little bank account is growing slowly
but surely. Still there are certainly other things we can do to earn
money, collectively and individually. Really I mustn't get started on
the subject. It is time I went to my chemistry recitation. You'll be at
the meeting to-night, won't you, Miss Harlowe? We couldn't get along
without you."
A faint flush rose to Grace's cheeks at Louise's parting remark. How
wonderful it was to feel that one was really useful. Yes; the
thirty-four girls under her care really needed her. They needed her far
more than did Tom Gray. Grace frowned a trifle impatiently. She had not
intended to allow herself to think of Tom, yet there was something in
the expression of Louise Sampson's gray eyes that reminded her of him.
Resolving to put him completely out of her mind, Grace went into the
kitchen to consult with the cook concerning the day's marketing. The
postman's ring, however, caused her to hurry back to her office where
the maid was just depositing her morning mail on the slide of her desk.
Her letters were from Anne, Elfreda and her mother, and they filled her
with unalloyed pleasure. Her mother's unselfish words, "I hope my little
girl is finding all the happiness life has to offer in her work,"
thrilled her. How different was her mother's attitude from that of Tom
Gray. Surely no one could miss her as her mother missed her, yet she had
given her up without a murmur, while Tom had protested bitterly against
her beloved work and prophesied that some day she would realize that
work didn't mean everything in life.
All that day the inspiring effect of her mother's letter remained with
Grace. Her already deep interest in her house and her charges received
new impetus, and when evening came, she felt, as she entered the big
living room where the thirty-four girls were assembled, that she would
willingly do anything that lay within her power to forward the
prosperity and success of Harlowe House.
After the usual preliminaries, Louise Sampson addressed the meeting in
her bright direct fashion. "Ever since we came back to Harlowe House
this year I've felt that we ought to do something to increase our
treasury money. If the club had enough money of its own, then the
Harlowe House girls wouldn't need to borrow of Semper Fidelis. That
would leave the Semper Fidelis fund free for other girls who don't live
here and who need financial help. Of course we couldn't do very much at
first, but if we could get up some kind of play or entertainment that
the whole college would be anxious to come to see, as they once did a
bazaar that the Semper Fidelis Club gave, the money we would realize
from it would be a fine start for us. Now I'm going to leave the subject
open to informal discussion. Won't some one of you please express an
opinion?"
"Don't you believe that some of the students might say we were selfish
to try to make money for our own house instead of for the college?
Semper Fidelis was organized for the benefit of the whole college, but
this is different," remarked Cecil Ferris.
A blank silence followed Cecil's objection. What she had just said was,
in a measure, true.
Louise Sampson looked appealingly at Grace. She had been so sure that
her plan of conducting some special entertainment on a large scale would
meet with approval. Cecil's view of the matter had never occurred to
her.
"I am afraid that Miss Ferris is right," Grace said slowly. "Much as I
should like to see the Harlowe House Club in a position to take care of
its members' wants I am afraid we might be criticized as selfish if we
undertook to give a bazaar."
"Why couldn't we give one entertainment a month?" asked Mary Reynolds
eagerly. "I am sure President Morton would let us have Greek Hall. We
could give different kinds of entertainments. One month we could give a
Shakespearean play and the next a Greek tragedy; then we could act a
scenario, or have a musical revue or whatever we liked. We could make
posters to advertise each one and state frankly on them that the
proceeds were to go to the Harlowe House Club Reserve Fund. We wouldn't
ask any one for anything. We wouldn't even ask them to come. We'd just
have the tickets on sale as they do at a theatre. If the girls liked the
first show, they'd come to the next one. We'd ask some of the popular
girls of the college who do stunts to take part, and feature them. I
think we'd have a standing-room-only audience every time."
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