HELEN was really working very hard, for winter weather and the sword of Damocles hanging over one's neck is conducive to work. So diligently did she apply herself, that in the course of the remaining time before Christmas she had worn quite off the superfluous "fat" accumulated during the first two months while the Freshmen were getting acclimated. Tommy now felt that she could be recognized by her relatives.
As the time for the Christmas vacation drew near, the girls grew excited and restive. On the first of December, Fanny and Helen strung up a necklace of twenty-one peanuts above their chiffonier, and each night they broke off one and ate the pair of "niggar-babies" inside, reducing the number of peanuts against the day when there would be none left. This bit of ceremony encouraged them, and that day finally came. Trunks were packed three days in advance by these Freshmen, and tagged "Trunk Ready" in the basement long before Sawyer's men thought of coming for them. They had obtained their railroad tickets from the accommodating superintendent, who had ordered them for the giris, and their suitcases were ready the night before. In fact, Helen, with great minuteness, went over every bit of clothing she was to wear on the train, so that she would not find herself suddenly with all her hats and shoes packed in the trunk and with only her sneakers in a gymnasium locker.
Those who have experienced such a home coming can appreciate the first return of the petted daughter from the college in Massachusetts. The folks at home held her in review to see how much she had grown and how much changed. During the entire vacation, friends and relatives prepared entertainments and shopping tours, theater and opera, and throughout the whole time she was feted and feasted on delicacies she was not likely to see again for another three months.
She never told, however -- even to her old chum -- that she had lost Glee Club and the team. She never hinted a least desire for them now, and omitted mentioning her successes to avoid speaking of her defeats. All in all, they found her more subdued and settled in spirit, and -- it tickled her mother's secret heart -- "studious."
But the two weeks flew by, and she was back at college again, enriched by new clothes, Christmas presents, eatables, and advice. The advice might have been spared. Her interview with the registrar had left an impression not likely to be wiped off for many months to come.
So she went back to "digging" again, and her only solace was long walks with Helen Crosby in the crisp winter days.
It might be supposed that her native spirits, after being so long bottled up, would at length be so much fermented, that, at the least weakening in the resistance, they might explode. That weak spot offered itself at last.
The winter had not been an exceptionally severe one, and up to Christmas only a few slight snowstorms occurred. After New Year's, however, the weather became bitterly cold, and one day a tremendous blizzard bound up the country. The President had her secretary telephone to each hall that there would be no recitations that day. The girls were obliged to stay in the house the whole day, while the wind raged without, and at Porter the matron provided splendid grate fires in the reception room and entrance hall, of apple boughs and driftwood sent her by her Scituate cousin. There the girls sat, listening to the wind roaring and piling snow against the windows, watching the fire blaze up blue and green and purple and red, and roasting chestnuts and popcorn Byron Smith's man brought when he plowed through the drifts with his milk sleigh.
In a day or so, however, the snow was well padded down on the highways by the resumed traffic, and all thoughts began to turn to the annual class sleigh ride. With a mention of sleigh ride, Helen's slumbering interest awoke, and she had the vice president call a meeting of the executive committee at No. 21 Porter after lunch one day.
"Girls, we want to get busy on the sleigh ride," she said, all tingling with excitement. "It's just a dandy time to have it."
"Yes," put in Sue Richardson, "for if we leave it too long we might not get a chance again before mid-year exams."
"It's only three weeks before mid-years," said another; "and --"
"And we need all that time to plug," finished Helen. "Say, girls, the upperclassmen think we're awfully slow and tame. They've been watching our team and give it out that they do rank work. Oh, I've a few yells saved for them when the games come on! Let's show them now. Reynolds says he will let us have the barges for $8.00 apiece, and five will carry us."
"What, have you been to Reynolds's?"
"Well, I looked in at the livery stable this morning, on my way to the village post office, thinking it would be a good thing to ask."
"Then," said Sue, "we can -- By the way, where shall we go?"
"Belchertown or Westfield. We could telephone and have them get ready," suggested one of the committee.
"We'll have to have a class meeting about it," said Tommy. " Let's have a special meeting and decide this afternoon. Oh, girls, we just must get ahead of them all! But don't you say a word. I know the Sophs are just waiting for those barges!"
"Yes, let's do it! But don't breathe a word!"
A class meeting was called that afternoon, and the fire that was kindled at No. 21 at noon blazed up and roared at 4.45 P.M.
"Yes, let's get ahead of the other classes," was the watchword, and the conspiracy was set in motion.
While the meeting remained assembled, Tommy and Sue Richardson hurried to interview Mr. Reynolds, and, getting a favorable reply, were ordered to telephone to Belchertown; because, argued the all-knowing ones of the class, "there's a dandy dancing floor at Belchertown, and after we get all stiff from sitting in the barges, we shall want to limber up by dancing."
Reynolds's barges were soon hired and the Belchertown hotel engaged for the following night, with a splendid supper to await the sleighing party. The college President gave her acquiescence to the ride, and the two honorary members of the class -- Miss Cooper and Dr. Lawton -- were quickly interviewed and arranged to go with them.
But what had been happening in the meantime? It was not found out by the headlong Freshmen till supper, that the Seniors had had a similar meeting, and, anticipating not the least obstacle, had gone to hire Reynolds's barges, to find them already taken by the Freshmen.
(The Freshmen laughed in their sleeves.)
Then came indignation at this lack of deference to the Seniors, that, out of all precedence, these "nervy" Freshmen had arranged for the ride before any of the other classes, and "grabbed" the barges out of the Seniors' hands. The smallness of opinion they held the Freshmen in measurably decreased.
The Freshmen became sheepish over this turn of events. How were they to know there was such a thing as Senior precedence even in this matter? that all classes were supposed to take the ride in turn, and that they should have gone last and went first! The President and their honorary members did not warn them. (How could they, when the Freshmen had already made all arrangements irrevocably?) Well, it was a very culpable crime, but done unintentionally, and there was no help now. So they forged right ahead with it, and, while they held consolation and anticipation meetings, an undertone of grave protest and indignation went through all the upper classes.
At 4.45 in the afternoon of the next day, Reynolds was there with the barges and the silvery jingling of sleigh bells under the trees of College Street. Bundled up in greatcoats and mufflers and extra sweaters, they embarked, closely packed together, their knees wrapped in the liveryman's goatskin laprobes, which retained a strong odor of the originaI animals they had warmed. With a
"Wah-hoo-wah!
Wah-hoo-wah!
One-Nine-O-Eight!
Hol-yoke! -- Rah!!!"
they were off.
Before the hour was over, it was quite dark, and a beautiful yellow moon came up, which became cold and silvery as it ascended the sky. They sang "Sweet and Low" in honor of it, and then broke out in a medley of songs from "Holyoke" to "Forty-nine Blue Bottles," via "Spanish Cavalier" plus "Solomon Levy" to "Aunt Dinah's Quilting Party" and "John Brown Had a Little Injun." It was one of those rare occasions that make the heart strings vibrate -- crisp, clear, cutting air brushing against their ruddy faces; the mingling of fresh young voices with the singing of the sleigh bells; the pad-padding of the horses' hoofs; the runners of the barges crunching through the snow; and over all, a bland, open-faced moon that threw long shadows of trees by the roadside across the whiteness of meadows.
It was nearly seven o'clock when they reached Belchertown, and, jumping off the tail of the barges, could again stretch their cramped limbs outside the brilliantly lighted hotel and once more warm themselves by its welcoming fires.
This was like every other sleigh ride; but, being the first for these Freshmen, it was simply emchanting. The supper that followed was merely an ordinary "church supper," with oyster stew, that had only warmth to recommend it, and crackers accompanying; sandwiches with meager filling; rolls, and coffee in great, thick mugs that wouldn't break, as Molly said, "if you threw them up to the moon and down again"; and the crowning of all, ice cream, to be eaten with those worn, cut-your-lips spoons of the caterer, that helped flavor the cream with their tinniness.
But nobody was in a critical mood to-night, and the supper was stowed away with the heartiness of the healthy and unoppressed; and if the ice cream, in this weather, made chills creep up and down their backs, the Freshmen only adjourned the more quickly to the dancing hall and began to dance, music being furnished by a piano and an improvised side-comb band.
There were "stunts," too, interspersing the dancing numbers, composed of comic songs and clog dances, acrobatic feats, impersonations of the Faculty, which even the two chaperons appreciated, music by the "band," and an "alphabet poem" for the occasion.
At ten o'clock they started back and repeated the delightful though cold trip over the snow, with the same songs, a little more mellowed and less enthusiastic now; for they were filled with drowsiness and visions of warm beds ten or twelve miles away.
This was the trip -- it might be well called "trip," because it was a mistake and an offense. The consequences were left to be counted after it was over. The Seniors had only silent disdain; the Juniors tried to be on the Freshmen's side and make it easier for them; the Sophomores alone took it upon themselves to correct.