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Page 17
"Not that--that--_clam_!" Mary answered warmly, with an expression of
disgust. "I know Jack! You've no idea how she can shut herself up in her
shell. She never would fit in our family and I know he'd never--"
The signal announcing breakfast made her stop in the middle of her
sentence, for at that same instant the girls began to file in.
"Well, it's good-bye, 'Betty.' I must begin talking to 'Miss Lewis'
now." Giving Betty's hand a quick squeeze under the table, she drew
herself up sedately.
The Old Girls' Welcome to the New was the chief topic of conversation
that morning. It was to take place that night, and as the invitations
would not be delivered until the opening of the first mail, every
Freshman was in a flutter of expectancy, wondering who her escort was to
be.
"I hope mine will be either Cornie Dean or Dorene Derwent," confided
Mary to Betty in an undertone, "because I know them so well. But if I
should have to choose a stranger I'd rather have that quiet girl in
gray, over at Miss Chilton's table. She looks like a girl in an English
story-book. I mean the one that Ethelinda is talking to now. And I wish
you'd notice how she _is_ talking," Mary continued in amazement. "Did
you ever see more animation? She's making up for lost time."
"Oh, that's Evelyn Berkeley," answered Betty. "She _is_ English; a
distant relative of Madam's with such an interesting history. The year I
finished school she came in the middle of the spring term, such a
sad-looking creature all in black. Her mother had just died, and her
father, who only a short time before had succeeded to the title and
estates, sent her over here to be with Madam for awhile. He didn't know
what to do with her, as she seemed to be going into a decline. She isn't
like the same girl now."
"Oh, is she a real 'My-lady-the-carriage-waits'?" asked Mary, her eyes
wide with interest.
"Yes, she belongs to a very ancient and noble family," said Betty,
amused at her enthusiasm. "But I thought you were such a little
American-revolution patriot that you would not be impressed by anything
like that."
"I'm not impressed, exactly," Mary answered stoutly, "but this is the
first girl I ever saw who is own daughter to a lord, and it does add a
flavour to one's interest in her. Oh, I see, now. _That_ is why
Ethelinda is so friendly," she added, with sudden intuition of the
truth. "She thinks that Miss Berkeley is somebody worth cultivating, and
that I'm not."
"Maybe it's a case of 'birds of a feather,'" said Elise, who had heard
part of the conversation. "Ethelinda aspires to a family tree and a
coat-of-arms, too. I saw her box of stationery spilled out over your
table when I was in your room yesterday, and it had quite an imposing
crest on the paper--a unicorn or griffin or something, pawing away at a
crown."
Mary pursed her lips together thoughtfully. "That might explain it.
Maybe she thinks I'm only a sort of wild North American Indian because
our place is named Ware's Wigwam, and that it is beneath her dignity to
be intimate with her inferiors. But if that is what is the matter, she's
just a snob, and can't be very sure of her own position."
"She is only sixteen," Betty reminded her, "even if she does look so
mature and imposing. I have an idea that the way she has been brought up
is responsible for her attitude now. It has given her a false standard
of values. Now, Mary, here is a chance for you to do some real
missionary work, and teach her that '_the rank is but the guinea's
stamp_,' and that we're all pure gold, 'for a' that and a' that,' no
matter if we are not members of the British peerage."
"I wouldn't mind telling her anything if she were a real heathen," was
Mary's earnest answer. "But trying to break through her reserve is a
harder task than butting a hole through the Chinese wall. You've no idea
how haughty she is. Well, I don't care--much."
She cared enough, however, to take a lively interest in her room-mate's
pedigree, after seeing the crest on her note paper. Later in the morning
when some literature references made it necessary for her to go to the
library, she looked around for a certain fat volume she had pored over
several times during those idle days before the beginning of school. It
was Burke's Peerage. She had looked into it because of the story of
Edryn, finding many mottoes as interesting as the one in the great amber
window on the stairs. Now she turned to the B's and rapidly scanned the
columns till she came to the Berkeleys. For generations there had been
an Evelyn in the family. What a long, long time they had had to shape
their lives by their motto, and grow worthy of their family traditions!
No wonder that Evelyn had that air of gentle breeding and calm poise
like Madam Chartley's.
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