"I am quite sure it has made you very dependable. I wouldn't wonder if a term there would fit me for life with much better qualifications than I can now boast of. But here come Jane and Helen." (They had Americanized the Helka.) "And now more bundles."

"Oh, the darlingest tams," announced Jane, dropping down on the big sofa. "I just had to carry them home to show you. Couldn't wait for delivery. See Anaa," to Miss Kole, "aren't they perfectly dear?"

"Oh, this year's tams are really cla.s.sic," contributed the art student.

Judith already had the hunter's green, soft velvet tam on her frowsy head. "Jane, which is mine?"

"Well, I did not know what you would like best with your riding habit.

It would have been too uncertain to guess at the green, and the brown was rather dark, so I thought perhaps this burgundy would go."

"Stunning, perfectly so!" exclaimed Judith. "I have always wanted wine color and been afraid to try it. Isn't it wonderful?" And the lovely soft little cap was coaxed to a proper angle on the dark head.

"And this is Helen's," Jane shook from its wrappers another cap of a deep violet hue. Helen blushed prettily as Judith insisted on trying it on her curly head.

"Oh, look, girls!" Judith suddenly exclaimed, grasping Helen and swinging her around unceremoniously. "Now I know the color of her eyes!

They are pure violet."

The unexpected exclamation, and the energy of Judith's swing gave Helen a perceptible start. For a moment she seemed about to dash off. She changed color from flush to pallor and was surely trembling. Then realizing it was all a joke, she quickly regained her composure, but not before the girls had noted her curious att.i.tude and alarm. Even Jane, slow to criticise, could not but admit Helen was frightened, and at such a trifle!

Why was she always so fearful? What was there for her to be so markedly nervous about?

That she had asked, and even insisted that the Polish name of Helka Podonsky be changed to the American subst.i.tute, Helen Powderly, had seemed reasonable enough to the girls, when just after their arrival in New York Helen explained that name meant "power" and while the "sky"

stood for distinction in Poland, it would mean nothing but possible ridicule in her school life. To this Jane and Judith had a.s.sented.

Perhaps it would be best, they agreed, not to antagonize the less broadminded girls with the foreign t.i.tle. Also, Helen had so earnestly wished it. All this flashed before their minds now, when a simple girlish exclamation caused a panic of fear. It must be nerves, of course. Perhaps Helen had studied too hard in qualifying for the scholars.h.i.+p!

Girls are often jumpy, but not often quite so easily overcome, Jane thought.

"But what shall we do with so many hats?" asked Helen navely recovering herself. "We shall be at school always."

"Oh, not half of always," replied Jane. "You see, Helen, we must ride, I haven't told you about your horse (the violet eyes widened with pleasure) and then," continued Jane, "we are going on all sorts of hikes and hunts and outside jaunts. We are going to beg you in as a junior. Sometimes the juniors, that's Judith and me, are allowed to have what we call pupils. It isn't really catalogued but we occasionally get a younger girl to go with us, so that we may try out our knowledge on her."

"Yes, and my particular stunt is," Judith acclaimed, trying her tam at another angle, "to get a girl who knows more than I do, and let her try out her knowledge on me. Last year I found a perfect wizard in Meta Noon. She knew more about bi-ology than I shall ever have a chance to learn, and in the woods-what Meta didn't tell me about queer bugs, and buzzards and beetles and bombus and-well, I was buzzing for a week after one hike."

"After all," sighed Anaa, "school days have a charm. But we never realize it until it is gone."

"Then of what value is the charm?" asked Jane.

"Exactly like cutting a tooth-only good after all the cutting is done,"

decided Judith.

"We take no note of time but from its loss, you know the poet says,"

followed Jane, "and I often think of the concise truth of that statement. We do not even know it is the hour until the hour is past.

Oh, la-la! but we are getting philosophical. Personally, I am more interested in the kitchenette at this moment. Judith, it is your turn to do the K. P."

"What ever branch of the A. E. F. inst.i.tuted the Kitchen Police should have been tried by court martial," blurted Judith. "The K. P. is a duty for the enemy, not for the home guard," and she dove for the divan and the chocolate crumbs.

"Oh, do let me get the dinner again," begged Helen. "You know I love to. The little place is like a-baby play house."

"Oh, yes, Helen, do run along and play," promptly agreed Judith. "As it is my turn, I give you full permission--"

"Judy Stearns," called Jane in mock severity. "You are an awful fraud.

Helen is too good to you. I shall make you do guard duty this evening when we are out in the park. Besides, I am not going to give you your surprise."

She got no further. The tall girl bounced over the room after Jane, who was ducking nimbly only to be finally enmeshed in cus.h.i.+ons and portieres.

"Will you give it to me?" commanded Judith. "Or shall I wrest it from you! And what is it and where is it? Maybe a telegram, summoning me to my jolly cowboys' wedding or funeral. Oh, shall I ever be able to forget my jolly cowboys?"

"Easy, girls, easy," cautioned Anaa, "Miss Jordan is putty in our hands, until we attempt football with her cus.h.i.+ons. Then she turns alabaster. Don't, Judith, it is a lot better to 'don't' than to 'did.'

Take the advice of a good friend."

At this the chase was halted. Jane was panting from the shaking and choking Judith had administered, while Judith was looking for the ever fractious hairpins, the same being the last of a precious set of sh.e.l.l pins imported from the Western coast. Judith and hairpins were always at painful odds.

"Judy," said Jane seriously, "do you realize our days are flying and we will be due at Wellington very soon?"

"Oh, Jane Allen! You horrid girl! Can't I have a day's peace here in this wonderful New York without having Wellington poked at me?" and Judith facetiously jabbed at her eyes. "I have a very good mind to play hookey."

Anaa had slipped out of the room, leaving Jane and Judith together.

"Jane," whispered Judith, "whatever do you suppose makes Helen so nervous about strangers? She is positively timid in crowds. And when a man with queer whiskers, the Russian kind, brushed by us to-day on the avenue I could feel her s.h.i.+ver. Now, Janie, you do not suppose we are harboring a runaway, or anything like that?"

"Why, Judy, how foolish. You know Mrs. Weatherbee would not have agreed that father's scholars.h.i.+p be given Helen if she had not first carefully examined all her credentials. You know Mrs. Weatherbee and care. A regular text book. But I will admit, the child is afraid in public places. Much as I like it here, I should have been glad of a week in a big hotel just for the experience, if we could have induced her to go with us. It is a little queer, still Helen is lovely, don't you think so?"

"Too sweet for cla.s.sification. Look at her now doing my ch.o.r.es," and Judith laughed. "Oh, Janie, dear, it is fun to be here, and to have your purse at the back of it. I never had so much spot cash in all my life as I have seen you flourish since we located at the Jordan apartment. It perfectly scares me."

CHAPTER X-FEARS AND FANCIES

"Madam, dinner is served," announced Helen at the door, with the funny little jerked courtesy and her finger to her lips a la Molly in the movies. Helen was an apt American scholar, and her short stay in the country had already sufficed for picking up an attractive list of typical mannerisms. Especially did she show her apt.i.tude in mimicing stage girls.

"Now, where did you learn that, Helen?" demanded Judith. "You never have seen me bite my index nail with that sort of charm."

"But you know I went to some plays in Warsaw, and we had American talent there," explained Helen. "I have not yet been to a theatre in America."

"Then you shall--"

"Oh, no, really, I do not wish--"

"Simpleton," kindly whispered Jane, pressing Helen's hand confidently, "we shall all go to a beautiful play, and you shall sit where no one can see you, if that is what you mean by declining all our theatre invitations. Since you really do not want to be seen in public, and perhaps you have a perfectly good reason for that choice, I must fix it so you shall see the public in private. It can be done, you know."

"Of coursey," chuckled Judith. "Trust Jane for that. She would call out the secret service, and we might all go in a regular presidential retinue, with the good-looking slim detectives at our heels."

"Monkey," Jane administered, "don't go putting such nonsense into Helen's curly head. No such thing, Helen. We may go to a theatre quite as privately as we went to the florists. Wait until you see how nicely I shall arrange it."

Helen evidently considered it would be rude for her to object, nevertheless it was clear to both girls she would have felt better to be allowed to decline Jane's ardent invitation. The fact that theatre parties had been taboo, on account of Helen's reticence, had given the Wellington la.s.sies some annoyance. Jane and Judith both wanted to see good plays.

"Was the surprise something to eat, Janie?" asked Judith as they entered the dimly lighted dining room. One end of the long table had been taken over by one trio, while down the board in groups of twos, students and transients, were either partaking of or arranging their "individual" meals. Each girl did her own cooking and serving, unless she shared the task with a friend on the "co-op," this being short for co-operative plan.