CHAPTER XIV
THE REVOLT OF THE “WHY-GET-UPS”
IT was the dull season between midyears and spring vacation—a time that makes the ordinary Hardingite restless, and drives the clever ones to all sorts of absurdities and extravagances. The best stunts are always invented at this season, and the wildest pranks perpetrated. This year Prexy guilelessly announced in chapel that “bobbing” and “hitching” with sleds were not, in his estimation, dignified forms of recreation for the “womanly woman” who was Harding’s ideal. So with dust-pan coasting also under the ban, and the ice on the skating-rink frozen humpy—just to be spiteful, Georgia Ames declared—the dull season opened ten times duller than usual.
Of course Betty heard all about the “anti-bob” ordinance, and sympathized duly with its downtrodden victims.
“There are getting to be too many old rules in this place, anyway,” declared Lucile Merrifield hotly, as they discussed the matter over their teacups in Flying Hoof’s stall. “We’re supposed to be sensible, reasonable creatures and to know what’s permissible in this rural retreat. I shouldn’t go ‘hitching’ in New York. I should probably wear my hat there when I went out shopping. Prexy doesn’t give his sweet creation, the womanly woman, credit for ordinary intelligence.”
“He wouldn’t be able to if he heard you talk, my dear,” Polly Eastman told her soothingly. “Have some more of Betty’s Cousin Kate cookies. They’re very good for the temper, and not against the rules.”
“Are you sure?” demanded Lucile acidly. “There are so many rules now that I shouldn’t pretend to keep them all in my head at once.”
“Let’s get Madeline and make her tell tea-ground fortunes,” suggested Georgia. “I’m tired of all this fuss about rules.”
But Madeline, who was in the loft writing, had overheard enough of the conversation to enable her to make her fortunes timely, and the “anti-bob” ordinance was not yet disposed of.
“You’ve got a tempest in your teacup, Lucile,” she announced. “It’s a frightful brain-storm brought on by the lack of your favorite outdoor exercise. Isn’t ‘hitching’ your favorite exercise, dearie? Well, do you see that? That’s a tipped-over sleigh. A brain-storm is better than an early and ignominious death encountered while ‘hitching,’ Lucile. But you’re going to do something very silly during the brain-storm.” Madeline frowned portentously over the grounds in Lucile’s cup. “I think I see Prexy—yes, the venerable Prexy himself is in here. You’ll be called up before the powers, Lucile, to answer for your foolishness, so beware.”
Lucile smiled her subtle, far-away smile—it was first cousin to Mary Brooks’s “beamish” one. “That will at least be exciting,” she said. “Fluffy Dutton, what do you say to a race to see which of us can break the most of their old rules at one go?”
Fluffy shook her curly head vigorously. “I’ve been up before the powers once, thank you, for too many lights after ten and cutting Greek prose and being back late after Christmas. I don’t care for it at all. If he’d glare and storm it wouldn’t be so bad, but when he appeals to your better judgment——” Fluffy shrugged expressively. “He treats you like an equal, and looks at you hard and shakes hands so nicely when he’s finished you up. And then you go off feeling like a marked-down bargain-lot of last night’s faded violets. No, thank you, Lucile. I’ll race you anywhere you like except to interviews with Prexy.”
“Good for you, Fluffy.” Georgia patted her on the back approvingly. “I didn’t think you had so much sense.”
“Lucile has just as much, only she’s trying to deceive us about it,” put in Betty, who had come over to hear the fortunes.
And then Madeline discovered a tall, light-haired suitor in Polly’s cup, and being accused of inventing him pointed him out to the satisfaction of the assembled company. And when Polly vehemently denied knowing a single light-haired man, she predicted a speedy meeting, a box of chocolates, an adventure by water, and a summer together by more water.
“Prom. man, of course,” explained Georgia easily, “invited for you by Lucile-of-the-vast-masculine-acquaintance, after your own man has decided to break his arm. Really, girls, there ought to be a rule against proms., because of the broken bones they produce. Well, Lucile’s friend will take you out on Paradise, thinking he can paddle, and upset you. And then he’ll spend the summer at Squirrel Island, where you always go. That’s easy. Madeline, just tell me if there’s a suitor in my cup, please. That’s all I care about. Your presents and trips abroad don’t interest me a bit.”
Betty had quite forgotten this conversation when, a week or so later, Polly Eastman appeared one morning at the Tally-ho.
“Don’t you want to rent your loft for a little party?” she demanded. “It’s bigger than the down-town hall, and it will be so nice to sit down here between times. We want extra-good eats too, so you’ll get very wealthy out of us.”
“What in the world do you want to give a girl-dance for?” demanded Betty. “By junior year we were all pretty tired of them, except Helen Chase Adams, who never had a chance to go to any other kind. This is a girl-affair, of course?”
Polly was busily examining the depleted gift-shop table. “I always meant to buy a pair of these candle-shades,” she said, holding up one of the Tally-ho’s specials. “Will you take the order now? Did you ask who was giving the affair, Betty? Oh, just our own crowd—the ‘Why-Get-Up-to-Breakfast Club,’ and a few choice spirits who’ve been invited to join us. Eats for thirty, I think Lucile said; and we want them very grand and quite regardless of expense. About three courses, and all nice and spicy, the way campus food never is.”
“I think it’s such a funny idea,” pursued Betty. “Your house party comes before long, doesn’t it? Why in the world don’t you wait for that?”
“Nothing but lemonade for refreshments and a crowd of stupidities that you can’t get away from,” explained Polly succinctly. “Will it be all right about the loft, Betty? I’m due at chemistry lab., and I promised the others that I’d have this business all arranged by lunch-time.”
“Why, ye-es,” began Betty doubtfully. “You can have it, I think. The gift-shop workroom may as well be closed until next fall, and Madeline’s papers are used to being moved around. I suppose a little dance like this is just like a party in a campus room. You don’t have to get permission from anyone, do you?”
“Easily not,” Polly assured her calmly. “It’s exactly the same thing as a dinner down here, or a spread. You’ve had spreads down here, haven’t you?”
Betty nodded.
“Then I’ll tell them it’s all right.” Polly tucked her armful of books more securely under her arm and started off. “Did I say that it was next Saturday evening? We want the eats at half-past nine, before everything but the last dance.”
Betty began planning the menu and estimating expenses at once, reflecting as she did so that there was certainly no accounting for tastes, and half wishing she had suggested to Polly that a three course supper wasn’t at all in keeping with the best Harding traditions. “The Merry Hearts” had not exactly handed down their ideals to the “Why-Get-Ups,” but the one society had largely taken the other’s place in the life of the college.
“This kind of thing makes people talk about the fashionable amusements here and the money it costs to go through Harding College. I wish I’d——” Betty remembered suddenly that her first duty was to the tea-shop, and went at her figures in earnest, trying to feel properly elated over the big order and the new source of revenue suggested by Polly’s idea of renting the loft.
It was Wednesday of the next week, and oddly enough not one of the “Why-Get-Ups” had been in for breakfast, lunch, or tea. They were saving up for their spread-eagle party, Betty thought, until the high-pitched chatter of two Belden House freshmen explained the “Why-Get-Ups’” unusual party, and suggested several other possible reasons why they stayed away from the Tally-ho.
“I’m just broken hearted,” one freshman declared in her shrill treble. “You see when I asked Marie to our house-party, she promised to come if she could have a dance with Lucile Merrifield. And now Lucile isn’t coming. I thought girls always went to their house-parties.”
“Goodness, no, dear,” the other told her importantly. “That is, they always have before, but you can trust this crowd to be different. Haven’t you heard anything about the fuss?”
The shrill-voiced freshman shook her head sadly.
“Well, of course it’s a dead secret,” the other went on, “but my roommate is an intimate friend of Miss Eastman’s. They asked her to join them, but she decided not to. She told me because she was just dying to talk it over with somebody. That was away back last week. It’s leaked out more now, so I’m sure there’s no harm in my telling you. Of course everybody will know Saturday night when they don’t appear.”
“Do go on,” begged the other.
At this point Betty, who scorned eavesdropping, made an errand to the kitchen. As early as possible that evening she went up to the Belden. Polly’s room was dark, but Betty found the “Why-Get-Ups” gathered in full force in Georgia’s corner single. Their greetings were constrained, and they plunged at once into a lively discussion of the last number of the “Argus,” which had come out that afternoon.
But Betty refused to delay. “I’ve come on business,” she announced. “I want to know if your house dance is this Saturday?”
“Why, yes, I believe it is,” Polly admitted casually, after a nudge from Lucille, “but we’re not going. I told you we were sick of weak lemonade and stupid partners. Have you planned our three courses?”
Betty turned upon Georgia. “Why are you all cutting your own house dance?” she demanded.
Georgia grinned sociably. “Bored,” she explained briefly. “Dying for excitement. Pining for novelty. Ask Madeline: she understands the feeling.”
“But she wouldn’t do this kind of thing,” protested Betty. “It’s so conspicuous. You needn’t have filled out your cards,—Madeline never would,—but you ought to go. And you certainly ought not to have an affair of your own that night.”
“Oh, tell her all about it,” put in Fluffy Dutton. “I never thought it was fair not to. She isn’t a faculty, but she’s a public institution. She ought to go into this with her eyes open. Besides when she’s heard the whole story, I’m sure she’ll stand for us. Mrs. Hinsdale couldn’t, of course. I only hope that prep. school-teacher Alice is going to ask for chaperon won’t be too curious or too conscientious. Fire away, Lucile.”
“Well——” Lucile paused. When you came to tell it to an outsider there wasn’t so much of a case as there had seemed to be when they discussed it hotly among their injured selves. “Well,” repeated Lucile, “to begin with, we’d all asked men, except Georgia, and she’d asked a prep. girl. And then Dickie Garrison—she’s house president—went and made rules against them. At least there had always been a rule against men, but everybody smuggled them in just the same and danced with them too, up in the gallery. But Dickie said to cut it out. We wouldn’t have cared, only we were sure she knew about our men and had cooked up this plot at the last minute just to spite us. We aren’t very popular with Dickie.”
“And then they ruled out asking prep. girls,” put in Georgia.
“And finally Dickie came to me,” Fluffy took up the tale of woe, “and said what would I think of the next house-meeting’s taking up the matter of lights after ten. That was just insulting—to say to me.”
“So then we decided to—to revolt,” ended the silent, straight-haired Dutton twin. “There’s no rule against giving an off-campus party, with men invited. Nobody ever had one before that we know of, because nobody ever thought of it. So we’ve just kept dark to avoid possible fusses.”
“And if we can only get the chaperon business settled, it’s all right,” added Lucile. “Isn’t it now, Betty? We’ve asked six Hilton House juniors to come too, and I’ve invited a lot of extra men.”
“Including a light-haired one for me,” explained Polly gaily, “according to the prophecy of the seeress Madeline.”
There was a strained little silence.
“Of course,” said Betty bravely at last, “you don’t remember when the prom. began. It was in my sister Nan’s senior year, and I’ve heard her tell how it was started on purpose to give the girls one good chance to have their men friends up all at once and avoid just this kind of thing. It was against the rules then to——”
“It’s not now,” declared Lucile hotly.
“Then why didn’t you ask one of the faculty to chaperon you?” Betty asked in a queer, frightened voice, for she hated to interfere or to seem priggish.
“Why indeed?” Georgia echoed. “Just what Mary Brooks Hinsdale asked us. She said she guessed it was all right, but a faculty’s wife couldn’t do anything reckless.”
“If you don’t want us, Betty, we can take the down-town hall,” Lucile explained coldly. “Only we depend on your sense of honor not to give us away.”
“Don’t be cross, Lucile,” commented the straight-haired twin. “Betty’s not that sort.”
Betty smiled a thank you, and rose to go. “I don’t know what to say to-night about the loft,” she said, “but I’ll let you know the first thing in the morning.”
Directly after chapel next day the straight-haired twin appeared, frankly apologetic. “The prep, teacher turned us down too,” she said, “and Georgia plucked up courage to ask the new math. assistant, and she turned us down. We don’t know any town women. We wish—Fluffy and I do anyway—that we had told our men about the new rule and asked girls instead. This sort of thing is too much like work.”
Betty considered an instant. She had intended to consult Madeline, but Madeline had overslept that morning. “Tell the girls that if they’ll put it off till next Saturday they may have it here, and that I’ll find a chaperon myself.”
“You angel!” cried the twin. “Lucile won’t like it because it won’t spite Dickie, so particularly, if you don’t have it the night of the Belden House affair, but the rest will jump at your magnificent offer. Betty, will you come to the regular house dance with me?”
As soon as she had received official notice that her proposal was accepted Betty went straight to Miss Ferris and explained the whole thing, as she understood it, from Georgia’s candid statement of motives to the Dutton twins’ admission of regret.
“But Lucile and Polly are so proud,” she added. “If they had to give it all up now they’d only go ahead and think up something sillier to do. So I thought if you’d chaperon it, and they promised not to boast of it—— They’re all going to the house dance now, except maybe Lucile, and most of the few girls who know about their first plan will think it’s given up. So it will create a lot less talk and excitement than if I’d made them find another place, and they’d telegraphed for one of their mothers and had their party this week Saturday, in spite of everything, as they first planned.”
Miss Ferris smiled at her. “That sounds like good logic. I’ll come; but suppose we don’t tell them who the chaperon is to be until they come to their dance.”
To arrive at what one has supposed to be a secret and forbidden entertainment and to find the head of the philosophy department waiting smilingly to receive you and your friends—well, it makes you feel at once foolish and relieved. The “Why-Get-Up” party was an undoubted success, but Georgia Ames told Miss Ferris that they were all ashamed of it.
“Because when you mean to be mean, why, it’s not your fault if Betty switches you off the track. Of course we all knew that we weren’t up here to be giving man-dances. We’ll stand by you, Miss Ferris, any way we can.”
The “Why-Get-Up-to-Breakfast Club” stood by Georgia’s promise. It paid to humor their little whim, if only because Fluffy Dutton’s light was out at ten for the rest of the year, and Lucile Merrifield’s chapel attendance was perfect. As for the Tally-ho Tea-Shop, it had never seemed like the other places of its kind in town, but now more than ever its unofficial connection with the college was noted and commented upon.
“Isn’t there anything that girl can teach?” the president asked, when he heard about the “Why-Get-Up” party. “We’ll have to find something to keep her here indefinitely. She knows how to make things run.”
But all Betty cared about was that the “Why-Get-Ups” were one and all on the same friendly and easy-going footing with her as ever.