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Page 22
The remark was repeated without loss of time, and in the same
patronizing tone in which it was made. Mary's boasted self-control flew
to the four winds. She was half way down the stairs when she heard it,
but turning abruptly she marched back to her room, her cheeks red and
her eyes blazing. Throwing open the door she gave one glance around
the room. The disorder happened to be a little worse than usual. A
wet umbrella leaned against her bed, and Ethelinda's damp coat lay
across the white counterpane, for she had been walking in the rain, and
had thrown them down in the most convenient spot on entering. Other
articles were scattered about promiscuously, but Mary made no attempt as
usual to put them in place.
[Illustration: "INSTEAD, IT SEEMED AS IF A SMALL CYCLONE SWEPT THROUGH
THE ROOM."]
Instead, it seemed as if a small cyclone swept through the room. The wet
umbrella was sent flying across to Ethelinda's bed. Gloves, coat, and
handsome plumed hat followed, regardless of where they lit, or in what
condition. Half a dozen books went next, tumbling pell mell into a
corner. Then Ethelinda's bed-room slippers, over which Mary was always
stumbling, hurtled through the air, and an ivory hair-brush that had
been left on her dressing-table. They whizzed perilously near
Ethelinda's head.
"There!" exclaimed Mary, choking back the angry tremble in her voice.
"I'm worn out trying to keep this room in order for order's sake! The
next time I find your things on my side of the room I'll pitch them out
of the window! It's no excuse at all to say that you've always had
somebody to wait on you. You've always had your two hands, too. A
_lady_ is supposed to have some sense of her own obligations and of
other people's rights. Now don't you _dare_ get on my side again!"
With her knees trembling under her till she could scarcely move, Mary
ran out of the room, so frightened by what she had done that she did not
venture back till bedtime. Ethelinda refused to speak to her for several
days, but the outburst of temper had two good results. One was that
there was no need for its repetition, and Ethelinda treated her with
more respect from then on.
It had come to her with a shock, that Mary was looking down on _her_,
Ethelinda Hurst, pitying her for some things and despising her for
others; and though she shrugged her shoulders at first and was angry at
the thought, she found herself many a time trying to measure up to
Mary's standards. She couldn't bear for those keen gray eyes to look her
through, as if they were weighing her in the balance and finding her
wanting.
CHAPTER V
A FAD AND A CHRISTMAS FUND
For a Freshman to start a fad popular enough to spread through the
entire school was an unheard of thing at Warwick Hall, but A.O. Miggs
had that distinction early in the term. Her birthday was in October, and
when she appeared that morning with a zodiac ring on her little finger,
set with a brilliant fire opal, there was a mingled outcry of admiration
and horror.
"Oh, I wouldn't wear an opal for worlds!" cried one superstitious girl.
"They're dreadfully unlucky."
"Not if it is your birthstone," announced A.O., calmly turning her hand
to watch the flashing of red and blue lights in the heart of the gem.
"It's bad luck _not_ to wear one if you were born in October. It says on
the card that came in the box with this:
"'October's child is born for woe
And life's vicissitudes must know,
Unless she wears the opal's charm
To ward off every care and harm.'
"And they say too that you are beloved of the gods and men as long as
you keep your faith in it."
"Then I'll certainly have to get one," laughed Jane Ridgeway, who had
joined the group, "for I am October's child. Let me see it, A.O."
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