dt edo 32D.
ght, 1907, by David O.
Cook Publis hing Company.
“Ver. VIL No. 40, | Rust asute
DAVID C. COOK PUBLISHING CoO.,
ILLINOIS, AND 86 WASHINGTON
October 5, 1907.
< ‘6 OME in! Come in!” Gay voices
- from Elizabeth Wescott’s room,
summoned Margaret as she was
hurrying to “57” -on the stroke of the
~. study bell.
- They were all in the door—Flizabeth,
> Rena Prentiss, Clare Adams, and Louie
- Chatam—the Four who led things at Wil-
ton Ilall, Before Margaret knew it, Clare
had whisked her in, Rena had drawn her
down upon the window-seat, and Louie
was sitting on her for safe keeping.
“We were just talking about you,”
Elizabeth dominated the clamor. “ Run
and get your algebra and come and study
with us. You can get permission, It’ll
be an act of charity. You’re such a grind
in algebra, maybe you can enthuse us a
“bit.. Come, we want you
“Wurry! VU get your book.”
“TH ask Miss Wells for you.”
“Vl give you the rocky-est rocker,
though I. do want*it myself.” This was
Margaret’s. cheeks flushed. This was
more. than a powsvow. over knotty, algebra.
She could see it-in the pretty, eager faces.
-It was a summons to make it the ‘ Five”
instead of the “‘ Four,”—to liye and work
and-be one “in equity ” with these bright,
enthusiastic girls. It was an opening door
‘into the life she had been hungry for. She
“was so quiet that the clamor: died down
~ and they waited for her to speak.*
- After a long minute Margaret got on her
feet in spite of. Louie. ‘Thank you!
- Thank you!” The girls knew by her eyes
fand.voice that: she understood. “1. wish
I could. I do. want.to, but—I’ve- prom-
. ised to help. Olive with her French.’”’ | Mar-
» .garet’ never. said “The Olive,” as did the
. rest. of the ‘school.
. An‘instant of, surprise. Then such a
clatter! “!The Olive’? Does she study?
“It doth amaze me!” Clare was. taking
_ Shakespeare, “Ter little baby French:
p She let you off, Go and tell-her how it
a All right,” answered Margaret soberly,
“and walked slowly down to “ 57.”
-= Jt. was a month since Margaret had
- come to Wilton Hall, to Number 57, sec-
» ond floor, and to Olive Volner as a room-
mate. he had not been the pleasantest
“The Olive,” as the girls called her—
and no one who viewed the bottles of olives
“collected in Olive Volner’s wardrobe won-
--dered at the title—did not fit into things.
‘She was, to quote Katie McGary, whose
~ forefathers had loved the Emerald Isle, “a
cipher and the number thirteen all in one.”
*. . She never learned her lessons. | Wer
room. looked like a rummage sale where
« the articles had just met. She was always
- blundering. No one expected anything of
her. “No-one ever “got demerits” for
being in “The Olive’s” room during study
hours. No.one ever slipped in to exchange
confidences and weave. dreams with her
_ at twilight. No one ever used her books
_or wore her ribbons or ate her olives in
joyous good-fellowship. ‘
-. All these things Margaret had heard
after. coming, but she had ignored them
“and had striven valiantly to treat Olive
* as one would treat—well, Elizabeth Wes-
tired of trying to drag her roommate into
all her good times. If the girls meant
what she believed they did, perhaps, some
day, she need not room with Olive. Mar-
garet tingled at the thought. It should
have been a happy tingle, but strangely
enough it was-an uncomfortable one.
Olive was at the study table when Mar-
garet opened the door. Her cheeks were
pink and her gray eyes, instead of being
sleepy, held eager little lights.
“T’ve done a page.” Tler tone could
have held no more pride if she’had said,
“ve discovered the North Pole.”
“It’s easy. If you'll help me just a
little, I can re&id it all, T’ve got to where
the ugly duckling goes to seek his fortune.”
She closed the book and looked with
adoring eyes at Margaret.
“Do you want to know. what I was
thinking while I was waiting for you?”
The question came out shyly, but come it
would. “I was thinking I never—never—
was so happy in my life. You don’t know
makes me so proud—to think I’ve
really got a friend—-a chum Just like other
girls, and the very best one—” The ear-
nest voice choked a little. ‘No one was
ever so nice to me before. I have tried—
I will try. I think maybe I can be quite a
respectable roommate—if you
usual, the school, to a girl, followed the
“Of all the insane things!” So ran
conyersation. “ And have you noticed how
she treats ‘The Olive’? Walks with her,
talks with her, studies with her, actually
won’t stir without her. She must be a
great deal like her, after all. It’s so easy
to be mistaken in people.”
After this no one was really rude to
Margaret. There were only pleasantly in-
different. The indifference hurt Margaret
worst of all. Little by little she lost thé
things she had prized so much—the eager
greetings, the cheery talks, the demands
on herself and her time, the whole-hearted
give and-take of friendship. More and
more she was left alone with Olive, down
upon whose plane they were putting her—
her, Margaret Palmer, who at the first
of the term, had been considered one of the
very brightest new girls.
Many a night when Olive was slumber-
ing happily, her roommate lay. open-eyed
in the dark.
“Te’s unjust!” she would murmur hotly,
“unjust! They never have given her a
chance and now they won’t give me one.
She needs me. I won’t give her up! I
As for Oliv e, she was too thoroughly happy
these days to notice her chum’s isolation.
oreover, although Margaret would. not
have believed it a month before, she grew
to -be a refuge and a consolation.
> So the term. went on, until it was time
for the annual treat of the Four. for their
particular friends. From the days of Eliza-
beth Wescott’s grandmother, the annual
treat had been recognized by prominent
there. From behind closed. doors came
tantalizing whiffs of fudge. Everything
That night, as the two sat down at the
study table, Olive wore what Margaret
called her .“ little, girl _look,’—wistful,
pleading, and not to. be denied.
‘Chum,” said she slowly, “I want you
to tell me something, truly now. Did you”
— she stopped and punched a hole in the
tablecloth—* did you stay away from that
spread—just because—of 1
Margaret laughed, a lnagh that died
quickly because it had a quiver in it.
“Now see here, Miss Sobersides!” cried
she, giving ‘The Olive” a shake, “stop.
your worrying, instantly. .I stayed away—
because, excellent reason, I was not. in-
She turned ‘aside then, for Olive was
searching her face with eyes that love had
“We're going to have a spread of just
our own,” Margaret went on gayly. “I
got some of the frostiest little cakes you
ever saw, and some saltines and some
olives. I don’t believe you've bought, any
for a week.”
The next afternoon Elizabeth Wescott
stopped Margaret in the hall. “Can you—
will you please come into my room a min-
ute?” Her manner was almost pleading—
something very unusual for the self-con-
“We want—that is.”.she went on hur-
riedly. when the door was closed, “ Won't
you andand Olive please come over to-.”
night? _Miss-Wells said you.might.~ We
want you—both of you.” — .
Margaret. was silent.” Words. did not
come to her just then.
go on helping.”
Olive’s laugh covered » a
neryous, happy little sob.
Margaret gasped, and her
cheeks grew bh /With dim-
ming eyes she- watched Olive’s
glowing face. She remembered
that Olive hung up her coat
at least half the time, that she
dusted even the rounds of the
chairs, that. she had solemnly
destroyed “The Heart-broken
Bride” and > “Wer | Fateful
Secret,” that she had learned
to walk straight past the
bakery, and that she dug’ at
her lessons like a plump little
Trojan. She was doing all
this for love of one Margaret
Palmer, who was scheming—
When Margaret got that
far, she acted. She smothered
Olive in a hug that made the
latter’s' eyes bewildering in
their lights and shadows. ‘Lhey
were certainly beautiful eyes!
“You mustn’t be so hum-
ble!” -she cried ‘hotly, “I
hayen’t been nice. It’s you.
Will you get my. Trench
books? ll be ready in a min-
“Oh, girls!” her‘ words hur-
ried-out to the waiting four,
Elizabeth dropped dignity
and answered her look.
“T- know what. you're
thinking!”. she burst out.
“You're wondering how I
have ihe courage to speak
to. you. I—we ~ are. so
ashamed—I_ can’t. tell ‘you!
You—you did hurt our. pride
-When you gaye us up for
‘The: Olive.’ : We—we pre-. ’
tended we thought it was be-
cause you didn’t. care.- We:
did know the true reason—
every one of us.”
Elizabeth’s face’ > was
pinker than the carnations
on the table. Her fingers
“were - working - nervously.
Confession was very hard,
but she made it whole-heart-
edly. = :
“You see you hurt us and
—and you made us ashamed,
We knew how contemptible
we'd been about Olive, but it
didn’t seem as’ though we
could own it. So we thought
we'd make you give her up.”
Elizabeth shrank from. the
scorn in. Margaret’s “eyes.
“We never thought you'd
hold out so, truly we didn’t.
We knew you wouldn’t come
without her last night, and
—if we asked her it would
“T can’t come to-night—I
just can’t. “Olive depends on
me so. Some other night. -I
do want to come. You see how
it is, don’t. you?”
Yes, the Four saw! They said very
little and that in formally polite tones.
They were not used to having invitations
refused, and henceforth they made no more
advances toward intimacy.
In. some strange way it was whispered |
about that. Margaret Palmer had snubbed
the Four, for the ‘sake of “ The Olive. AS
“bands of girls at Y
‘Four were .the host
“VE DONE A PAGE.”
ilton. This year. the
Of course only
the girls were
immediate friends of
As Margaret and Olive went by Eliza-
beth’s room that day, they caught glimpses
‘of screens, cushions, bundles and_chafing-
' dishes heaped within. Girls flew here and
be giving -in—so—and—the
others are at class.: I’m tell-
ing you for them, t
Margaret did not soften under
beth’ Ss piteous look.
“T£ you: would not give in-last night,
why are. you. doing it now?” The ques-
tion was very low and steady, but it cut.
“ Well — why — because —” stammered
Elizabeth. Wer glance fell .on.a crumpled _
paper in> her fingers. - ‘There was writing