Elizabeth Hobart at Exeter Hall
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During the talk, Elizabeth had been leaning backward against the study-table, her hands behind her, supporting her weight.
She paused before replying to Landis. Then she asked: “Do you believe in treating every one who has done wrong as you intend treating Nora?”
“Surely. To treat them otherwise would be an open acknowledgment that we are willing to overlook deceit and fraud. No one can afford to do that. You must remember the stand Dr. Morgan takes on such matters. You have heard her lecture often enough to know that she does not countenance treating sin and crime lightly. Why, in her last chapel-talk she said that while some amusements might be legitimate and proper for us, we must refrain from them because of our influencing others who might be harmed. I’m sure I could find no better person to follow than Dr. Morgan.”
“I do not think her words applied to this instance. At least I would not have taken it so. Nora did cheat last spring; but perhaps she is sorry for it. You do not know but that she looks upon it now with more scorn than you do.”
“I hope so. I hope Exeter has had some influence upon her.”
“Don’t you think, Landis, the proper thing to do, when we know she is ashamed of what she did last spring, is to help her all we can? It seems so unforgiving to be remembering always the little mean actions. I think she has suffered enough as it is. I don’t see what is to be gained by slighting her now.”
“Perhaps you don’t; but this is your first year at Exeter and you have lots more to learn. When you have been here two years more, perhaps your ethical standard will be higher.”
“Until I am capable of copying other people’s essays and passing them off for my own.” Elizabeth’s lips had grown white as Landis spoke. Never before in all her life had she been as angry as now. It was not alone Landis’ words which hurt her, but the girl’s manner and tone, which were most insulting.
For an instant Landis’ face grew crimson. Elizabeth’s remark had struck home. Her embarrassment lasted only for a moment. She was her cool, confident self again.
“I hope you’ll never be capable of that,” was the rejoinder, spoken lightly as she moved to her desk and took up a pencil preparatory to writing. “Exeter is scarcely a place where one learns such methods. One must have brought the disposition for such things with her.”
Elizabeth was not deceived by the light tone of the remark. Having entered into the discussion, she did not intend to retreat with lowered flag. However, it was scarcely fair to Landis to put her at a disadvantage in Min Kean’s presence. While Landis was speaking, the situation presented itself clearly to Elizabeth’s mind. She turned to Miss Kean.
“Min, would you care to go over to call on my roommate for a few minutes? You’ll find some home-made candy which mother sent with Joe Ratowsky. I wish to speak with Landis, and it’s really too personal for even you to hear.”
“Why, certainly! I’ll take the gloves along and finish my mending there. But don’t quarrel while I’m gone.”
“Scarcely,” was the reply from Landis. “I never have quarreled with anyone and I have no desire to begin now.” She was much taller than before. She was really quite an impressive person when she was on her dignity.
“Well?” she asked, turning to Elizabeth as the door closed after Min. Her manner and facial expression added, “If you have anything to say, you little insignificant member of the Middlers, say it. Such an august personage as myself has no time to waste in conversation with a little girl.”
Elizabeth did not falter. “I did not wish Min to hear what I have to say. She looks up to you as the literary light at Exeter, and I see no reason to undeceive her. I’ve known these little facts I’m about to mention since last holidays; but I’ve told no one. I would never have brought up the subject for discussion, even with you, if you had not been so bitter against Nora. It seems so perfectly ridiculous for you to criticise her for cheating once in examination when you’ve kept up the same system for months.”
“I don’t know what you mean!”
“You will soon if you do not now. As I have already said, I would have kept this to myself had you not been insulting to me ever since I came in this morning. I won’t be patronized by anyone that I have no confidence in. Every one at Exeter praises your fine essays. I used to, but I don’t any more.”
“What is the matter with you this morning, Elizabeth? I insulting to you! The idea was farthest from my thoughts. I’m nervous. I suppose that accounts for my speaking so you misunderstood me. I’m really working very hard. I’m anxious to make a creditable passing mark, and then I have Min to coach. You know she does not grasp lessons so quickly as you and some of the brighter ones.”
But the open flattery did not lead Elizabeth away from the subject. She had grown years wiser in the six months spent at Exeter. Her knowledge had cost her much of her girlish confidence.
“I – ” she began.
Landis, determined to ignore unpleasant subjects, interrupted with, “Have you ever been out to the Adams’ farm? I suppose you haven’t, since this is your first spring at Exeter. There’s a big woods near the house. It is filled with arbutus. I suppose it is beginning to leaf now. Min and I go out every spring to spend a day and night. We come home laden with arbutus. We’re going again a week from this coming Saturday. I wish you and Mary Wilson would go along. We get a livery rig and drive out. Can’t you go with us?”
“No, I – ”
“It shall not cost you a cent. Min and I will pay the livery bill.”
“Oh, I think I could manage to pay my share,” dryly. “It was not that which made me refuse to accept. I feel in this as you do about Nora O’Day. I wish to tell you about what I learned last holidays.” She talked hurriedly, allowing Landis no opportunity to interrupt. “Nora O’Day by chance mentioned that you came to see her and read some of her mother’s theses. Nora did not suspect you. She thought you were inclined to be literary, and felt pleased that you approved of the work her mother did years ago. That is all she thought about it. I did more thinking while Nora was telling me. I thought that Landis Stoner must be a little mite deceitful or she would not be critical of Nora when others were present and yet slip in to see her during study-hours. It seemed – well – it seemed downright deceitful to me.
“I heard you deliver an oration in the chapel. You know that you speak well, and so you are in every public affair. At least, you have been ever since I’ve been at Exeter. Your orations have been fine. I thought you were wonderfully bright until the Christmas holidays. When I was leaving, Nora brought me some of her mother’s essays to read. I read them while I was at Windburne.”
She paused and looked straight at Landis. Landis had no words to reply. She stood, dignified and erect by the study-table, toying with a silver paper-knife. The silence lasted for some minutes. Then feeling that Elizabeth was waiting for some word she gave a non-committal, “Well?”
“But it isn’t ‘well.’ It is anything but ‘well’. It’s what I call decidedly bad. The instant I read those essays, I discovered that your work was cribbed. You had read – ”
“What a fuss you make about nothing at all, Elizabeth! To hear you talk, one might think that I was guilty of wholesale robbery, or murder, or some other horrible crime. You young girls who are new to school-life and have had no experience outside your own little town do not understand these matters. You are, if I may say it, a little narrow in your views. You know only one way, and have the notion that there can be no other. You say I read those essays. Why, of course I did. They were good, too, and I received a great deal of help from them. Every one who writes even a little bit makes an effort to read all the good things along the same lines. That is the only way one can develop talent. I got some excellent ideas from Mrs. O’Day’s essays. Is there anything criminal in that? If there is, then we must lock up our histories and reference books when we have any article to prepare for classwork.”
“If it were receiving ideas merely, I should scarcely mention the matter to you; or even had you taken the ideas wholesale and expressed them in your own words, I should have said nothing at all. But you did not do that. Landis, you know you did not, and you cannot convince me by a few fine words that you did. The oration you delivered in chapel, the last rhetorical before the holidays, is almost word for word like the original. You gave me your copy to write up for our society paper. I have it, and also the original. If you are still doubtful of my statement, I’ll go with you to Dr. Morgan and give them to her to read.”
“Oh, I believe you,” was the reply given in an indifferent manner. “That was the one ‘Character Sketches in Shakespeare.’ I had forgotten about that. We were rushed with work. I remember now. I had no time to write an oration suitable for a public affair. I remember I did commit one of those old ones. But I do not think I claimed it was original. You people just took that for granted. If you had taken the trouble to ask me, I would have told you. I do not know that it is my fault that you were deceived.”
“Well, Landis,” said Elizabeth slowly, “you are surely an adept in slipping out of trouble. Now, Nora O’Day did wrong and made no attempt to deny it. She bore her punishment without a complaint. Your words do not deceive me one iota. They would have done so six months ago. But that time’s gone. It really does me good to speak so plainly to you now. I have felt deceitful all along in knowing about those papers, and then listening quietly while you criticized every one else at Exeter – girls who would not be guilty of doing what you have done. We will not discuss the subject further, but do not think that you are deceiving me. You are not. You copied, not one, but most of your orations and theses. But do not worry. Continue to copy if you wish. It is none of my affairs, and I shall tell no one. Now I’m through talking with you, and I feel a great deal better for telling you what I know.” Turning, she walked toward the door. “I’m going back to my room to get to work now. I’ll tell Min that she can come back if she wishes to.”
“But, Elizabeth, you came to talk about the method of examinations,” said Landis sweetly. She did not lift her eyes to meet the direct glance of her caller. She still continued to play with the paper-knife, running it up and down the felt of the table, making depressions in geometrical designs. “Since you feel as you do about Nora O’Day, that she is sorry and all that, and since she is a friend of yours, I’ll withdraw my objections to her. Of course, I feel as you do. It is not right to judge anyone. I’ll not remember her past deeds against her. Bring along your paper when you go into class, and I’ll put down my name, and I’ll promise for Min, too.”
Elizabeth wheeled suddenly about. “I do not wish you to sign it. We shall manage the affair very well without you.”
“Just as you please.” Here Landis’ self-confidence forsook her. She could not believe it possible that any girl would be generous enough to keep to herself such a matter as that of the essay-copying. Should Elizabeth tell but one or two, the affair would soon become public property. Her name would be mentioned with scorn throughout Exeter. Already she saw herself ostracized as she had helped to ostracize Nora O’Day. But if such a condition would result from her dishonesty, she would leave The Hall at once. She was much too proud, too ambitious, to allow anyone to ignore her. She stepped toward Elizabeth, holding out her hands appealingly. “Elizabeth Hobart, don’t, I beg of you, let anyone else know of this. Promise me you will tell no one and I’ll do whatever you ask me to.”
“All I ask of you is to let my friends go free of your criticism. You lead a certain set. Whatever you do, they will also do. I wish you to make them drop that old, worn-out subject of Nora O’Day’s cheating.”
“I will – I promise you that.”
“You and Min need not sign our petition to Dr. Morgan or the pledge we send in. They are to be ready before to-morrow – but you are to give me your promise to live up to the requirements.”
“I’ll do that. I have never taken advantage in examinations. They have always been easy enough without that.”
Elizabeth knew this to be quite true. Landis was one of the strongest members of the Senior class and she worked hard.
“Then we understand each other,” said Elizabeth. “From this time on, we’ll be just as before. No one need know we have had this talk.” She passed into the hall at these words, leaving Landis alone to reflect upon their conversation.
CHAPTER XII.
THE SENIORS OUTWITTED
When the Seniors and the Middlers, at the close of the spring semester, entered the class-room to take their examination in trigonometry, they found Dr. Kitchell the only member of the faculty present. He remained long enough to pass the small, printed slips of questions, and to explain the manner in which he wished the work done. A smile of relief passed over the class as he took his departure. Soon pencils and rulers were busy. The sound of their moving was all that was heard in the class-room. No word was spoken. The work continued for over an hour. Then one member, having finished, arose and, placing her papers on the table which stood near the front, quitted the room. One by one, as they completed the examination, the others followed her example.
Elizabeth was among the last to leave. Her face was beaming with satisfaction at the spirit in which her plan had been carried out. In the main hall she met Dr. Kitchell.
“The girls are all through,” she exclaimed, a thrill of pleasureable excitement showing in her voice. “There was not a word spoken, nor communication of any sort.”
“It is truly the only way to conduct an examination,” he answered, turning to walk with her down the hall to the dormitory. “The credit should be given to you, Miss Hobart. This police-duty, which so insulted you last fall, was not pleasant work for a teacher; but custom makes slaves of us all. Nothing will please us better than knowing that Exeter can have honest examinations without faculty supervision. We have wished for just such conditions as this, but they seemed rather to be dreamed of than realized. An instructor can do little in such matters. The desire must come from the students. We give you, Miss Hobart, the credit of this change.”
“I do not know that I should have it,” was the reply. “It is not that I was more sensitive or had higher ideals than the other girls. It was that they were accustomed to such supervision since the days when they entered school, while it was all new to me. And being new, it impressed me greatly. You see,” she added, looking up at Dr. Kitchell as though she did not wish him to misinterpret her leaving his class-room that day of the first examination, “outside of class, you would not have thought of such a thing as questioning our word or our honesty, yet by your way of conducting an examination, you did both.”
“That is true in part. I questioned the honor of some. Class honor, I should say. But there is yet another side to that. Students who would scorn to be other than strictly fair and upright outside of class have stooped to all manner of subterfuge to pass an examination. All sense of moral responsibility evaporated the instant they took that little slip of printed questions in their hands.”
“So I have learned,” said Elizabeth. She could not refrain from smiling. Dr. Kitchell had a jocular manner. His words, even in the discussions of the most serious matters, had a touch of humor. “That is what surprised me most. The girls are Christians, that is, the greater number are. But one would have thought it was a reform school. I think those days are gone. Every Senior and Middler is pledged to conduct examinations as they were conducted this morning, and we are heartily glad.”
“So say we all of us,” was the cordial response.
They had come to the hall leading to the girls’ dormitory. So far and no farther could Dr. Kitchell walk with Miss Hobart. Elizabeth hurried to her room. Loud tones came from her apartment. Opening the door quietly, she peered in as though half afraid of what she might encounter. Mary Wilson was pacing up and down the room. Her head was high. Her chest was expanded. A glow of rhetorical enthusiasm was upon her cheeks and in her eye. In one hand, she held several sheets of typewritten paper toward which at intervals her glance wandered. The other hand sawed the air in impressive, if not graceful, gesticulations.
She heeded not the entrance of her roommate. She continued orating in tones which she was striving to make full and round. She gave a hurried glance at her paper, strode up the room, flung out her hand and roared forth, “I’m charged with pride and ambition – ”
“What did they charge you for it?”
“The charge is true – ”
“Well, then, Mary, all I can advise is to pay the bill and not say anything more about it. If you haven’t change enough, I can lend – ”
“And I glory in its truth.”
Sinking back in her chair as though this was too much to be borne, Elizabeth sighed deeply, then said, “I’m surely surprised at you, Mary. Affairs have come to a pretty pass when you’re in debt and take glory in it.”
Mary laughed, tossed aside her paper, and coming over to her roommate, sat down beside her. “It’s my new oration. Miss Brosius called me into her office, and gave me this to learn. It is really very fine – effective, if my voice was not quite so high-pitched. Listen, I’ve learned so much already.” She tossed back her locks and assumed a rostrum manner, “‘I’m charged with pride and ambition. The charge is true and I glory in its truth. Whoever achieved anything great in letters, art or arms who was not ambitious? Cæsar was not more ambitious than Cicero, it was only in another way.’ That’s all I’ve learned. Miss Brosius went over so much with me that I would get into the spirit of the piece. I wish you might hear her read it! She’s such a dainty little creature, but she looked tall when she was rolling this out.”
“What is it for? You’ve had all your oratory work long ago.”
“This is especially for commencement. You see, we don’t have the old-style exercises. The Dean from some other school or some eminent divine comes to deliver a lecture. There’s music wherever there’s a loophole to slip it in. Then the class in cap and gown parade across the stage and receive their diplomas from Dr. Morgan. Oh, it’s all very fine and elegant and all that. But there’s no fun in it. The element of humor is lacking, and after an hour of it, the simple dignity of it palls on one. And as for the dresses! Most of the girls wear simple white shirtwaist suits under their gowns. There are receptions, to be sure; but the Middlers and Freshmen attend them, and dress as much as the Seniors do. The only opportunity a Senior has to trail a long gown after her is on Class-day. Then we have all the old orthodox orations and music with a two-act farce thrown in, and we may wear what we please. And let me announce right here, Elizabeth Hobart, your roommate will appear in the handsomest white evening dress she can get – train, short sleeves, high-heeled shoes, and hair piled on top of my head.”
Elizabeth looked at the short locks, barely touching the speaker’s shoulders. She laughed.
“You think it can’t be done!” exclaimed Mary, with the characteristic toss of her head. “But it can. I’m going to have a hairdresser. Yes, indeed. When I assume the role, I mean to carry it out. Wait until you see Mrs. Jones. She can take two hairs and twist them about until they look like nothing else so much as Paderewski. She has fine switches, too.” This was added after a moment’s thought, and confidentially, as though it was not information to be passed around. Then with a sigh of satisfaction, “One can work wonders with switches.”
“You’re not to mention to anyone what I am to do for Class-day. Those matters are supposed to be secrets. Of course, you could not help knowing, for I must practice here.”
In the days following, it was made plain that Elizabeth could not have been kept from the knowledge of what Mary was doing. From morning until evening, at all times, opportune and otherwise, Mary orated. When her throat grew husky from her efforts, she compared samples of white tulle, and point d’esprit, and embroidered mull. She insisted upon Elizabeth’s opinion in regard to each one of them.
“I’ve learned one thing,” said Elizabeth. “I never knew there were more than a hundred varieties of white material. But – ”
“There are thousands of them. I’ve discovered that this last few weeks. One thing is gained. You do increase your vocabulary. You must have different adjectives to express your admiration of each kind. What do you Middlers plan to do commencement week?”
Elizabeth looked down her nose. She could appear very innocent when she chose. “There was some mention made of a banquet,” she replied. “There was talk also of having a caterer from town.”
“Well, I guess not!” exclaimed Mary, arising. Her eyes were flashing with the spirit of school warfare. “I think you Middlers will think again about having anything so fine. Never in the history of Exeter have the Middlers given a banquet, and they shall not now. We shall keep them from it. We’ll treat you as the Seniors treated us last year. We, too, had a notion that we would give a banquet. We were so confident that we telephoned our order to the caterer; but we didn’t have the banquet.”
“Didn’t he receive the order?” The question was asked in such an innocent, seeking-for-information manner that Mary ought to have been suspicious, but she was not.
“Oh, yes, he received the order and the money to pay for it. We waited in the gym, all togged out in reception gowns, but the caterer came not. Suddenly it came to us that there must be some mistake. We set out to hunt for the banquet. We found its remains up in the laboratory where the Seniors had been feasting at our expense. No, indeed, Elizabeth,” Mary shook her head slowly, “no Middlers hold banquets at Exeter Hall. It isn’t countenanced.”
“We may try it, anyhow.”
“I hope you will. I should like to feast my friends at the Middlers’ expense.”
Elizabeth brought up the subject of the banquet again and again. Apparently inadvertently, she let drop many little points about the affair which were eagerly seized upon by her roommate. Mary was surprised at Elizabeth’s want of discretion. She seemed prone to let many a class secret escape.
It was evident the Middlers were laying plans for something. In groups of two and three, they surreptitiously visited each other. They gathered in hallways for whispered conferences. The Seniors were not blind. Each had her appointed work, and when the Middlers gathered together, there was a Senior concealed near by, with ears and eyes open. If the Middlers suspected that they were being shadowed, they made no signs.
“It’s a banquet, I’m sure,” confided Mary Wilson to Landis and Min. “We have our class exercises on Tuesday evening. The time was set for then, but Elizabeth Hobart and some of the others had that changed. They wish to attend our exercises. So it will be Wednesday evening. Elizabeth was writing when I went into the room. Like a flash, she covered the letter; but I saw enough to help us out. The letter was addressed to Achenbach. I saw the word ‘Wednesday.’”
“That settles it; for Nancy Eckdahl was making out a menu in chapel yesterday, and the Middlers who take water-colors are painting place-cards.”
“What had best be done? I’d like to have them send on the banquet and lead the delivery men off somewhere else.”
“But, Mary, that will not be possible. Most of the Middlers know what happened last year. They’ll keep a watch on us, and if they are wise, they’ll send out scouts to meet the caterer at the train,” said Mame Welch.
“They shall not banquet if we take it from them by force!” Then suddenly her face lighted up. “I have it. Landis, you must do this part. You have such a don’t-interfere-with-me manner that Achenbach will do exactly as you wish. Get permission to go into town. Go to Achenbach’s and tell them that the Seniors have discovered where the banquet is to be served, that you have come to give new orders, as the Seniors are determined to appropriate the banquet for themselves.”