A College Girl, Mrs George de Horne Vaizey [good non fiction books to read txt] 📗

Cambridge May week is a function so well known, and so often described, that it would be superfluous to enter in detail into its various happenings. In their first year Darsie and Hannah had taken little part in the festivities, but upon their second anniversary they looked forward to a welcome spell of gaiety. Not only were the Percivals coming up for the whole week, but Mr and Mrs Vernon and Vie were also to be installed in rooms, and the Newnham students had received permission to attend the two principal balls, being housed for the nights by their own party. Throughout Newnham the subject of frocks became, indeed, generally intermingled with the day’s work. Cardboard boxes arrived from home, cloaks and scarves were unearthed from the recesses of “coffins,” and placed to air before opened windows; “burries” were strewn with ribbons, laces, and scraps of tinsel, instead of the usual notebooks; third-year girls, reviving slowly from the strain of the Tripos, consented languidly to have their hats re-trimmed by second-year admirers, and so, despite themselves, were drawn into the maelstrom. One enterprising Fresher offered items of her wardrobe on hire, by the hour, day, or week, and reaped thereby quite a goodly sum towards her summer holiday. A blue-silk parasol, in particular, was in universal request, and appeared with éclat and in different hands at every outdoor function of the week.

In after-years Darsie Garnett looked back upon the day of that year on which the Masonic Ball was held with feelings of tender recollection, as a piece of her girlhood which was altogether bright and unclouded. She met the Percival party at one o’clock, and went with them to lunch in Ralph’s rooms, where two other men had been invited to make the party complete. There was hardly room to stir in the overcrowded little study, but the crush seemed but to add to the general hilarity.

Ralph made the gayest and most genial of hosts, and the luncheon provided for his guests was a typical specimen of the daring hospitality of his kind! Iced soup, lobster mayonnaise, salmon and green peas, veal cutlets and mushrooms, trifle, strawberries and cream, and strong coffee, were pressed in turns upon the guests, who—be it acknowledged at once—ate, drank, enjoyed, and went forth in peace. Later in the afternoon the little party strolled down to the river, and in the evening there was fresh feasting, leading up to the culminating excitement of all—the ball itself.

Beside the Percivals’ Parisian creations, Darsie’s simple dress made but a poor show, but then Darsie’s dresses were wont to take a secondary place, and to appear but as a background to her fresh young beauty, instead of—as is too often the case—a dress par excellence, with a girl tightly laced inside. When she made her appearance in the sitting-room of the lodgings, the verdict on her appearance was universally approving—

“You look a lamb!” gushed Ida enthusiastically.

“How do you manage it, dear? You always seem to hit the right thing!” exclaimed Mrs Percival in plaintive amaze; and as he helped her on with her cloak, Ralph murmured significantly—

“As if it mattered what you wore! No one will notice the frock.”

At the ball there was an appalling plethora of girls; wallflowers sat waiting round the walls, and waited in vain. Darsie felt sorry for them, tragically sorry; but the sight of their fixed smiles could not but heighten the sense of her own good luck in having the chance of more partners than she could accept. Ralph showed at his best that evening, evincing as much care for his sisters’ enjoyment as for that of their friend. Not until the three programmes were filled to the last extra did he rest from his efforts, and think of his own pleasure. It is true that his pleasure consisted chiefly in dancing with Darsie, and their steps went so well together that she was ready to give him the numbers for which he asked. As for Dan Vernon, he did not dance, but out of some mistaken sense of duty, felt it his duty to put in an appearance and glower.

“See old Vernon, glowering over there?” inquired Ralph, laughing, as he whirled Darsie lightly by to the strains of an inspiriting two-step, and for a moment a cloud shadowed the gaiety of her spirits. Dan ought either to dance or stay away! She didn’t like to see him looking glum!

The dancing was carried on until four in the morning, when in the chill grey light the company were ranged in rows, and photographed, apparently to provide a demonstration of how elderly and plain even the youngest of the number could look under such inauspicious circumstances.

The three girls had breakfast in bed the next morning, somewhere about twelve o’clock—a delightful occasion when all three talked at the same time, relating thrilling experiences of the night before, comparing notes, admiring, quizzing, shaking with laughter over a dozen innocent drolleries. These after-conferences are perhaps the best part of the festivities of our youth; and Noreen, Ida, and Darsie began that fine June day as gaily, as happily, as unconscious of coming ill as any three girls in the land.

Ralph had been anxious that his people should again lunch in his rooms, but Mrs Percival had prudently decided in favour of a simple meal at home, and it was approaching tea-time when the party sallied forth to witness the day’s “bumping” on the river. The elders were frankly tired after their late hours, but the three girls looked fresh as flowers in their dainty white frocks, and enjoyed to the full the kaleidoscopic beauty of the scene.

The two Percivals’ interest in the bumping was of the slightest description—Ralph was not taking part this afternoon, and with Ralph began and ended their concern. They stood on the crowded bank, rather hot, rather bored, amusing themselves by scanning the people near at hand. The Vernon party were but a few yards away, and Hannah attracted special attention.

“She is plain!” exclaimed Noreen; whereat Darsie snapped her up in double-quick time.

“Of course she is plain! She wouldn’t dream, of being anything else!”

Beloved plain Hannah! No features, however classic, could be as eloquent as hers in her old friend’s eyes. Darsie tossed her head, and looked flusty and annoyed, whereat Noreen feebly apologised, emphasising her offence by blundering explanations, and Ralph grew restless and impatient.

“I say! This is getting slow. Come along, girls; let’s take the ferry and cross to the other side. It’s not half bad fun to see all the shows. It will be a change, anyhow, and you can come back when you’re tired.”

“I’ll stay with mother,” Noreen decided dutifully. Ida surveyed the crowd on the opposite bank with the dubious air of one who has lived all her life within her own gates. “I don’t think I care to go into that crush.”

“Oh, come along, Darsie. Thank goodness you’re not so squeamish. Let’s get out of this.” Ralph pushed impatiently forward, and Mrs Percival turned to Darsie, with raised eyebrows, and said urgently—

“Do go, dear! Ralph will take care of you. We will wait for you here.”

Darsie smiled assent, the thought passing lightly through her mind that Mrs Percival looked particularly sweet and gracious when she smiled. She never dreamt that that particular smile, that little glance of appeal, were to remain with her all heir life, to be her comfort in a bitter grief.

They passed the spot where Hannah and Dan were standing with their friends, and acting on a sudden impulse, Darsie turned her head, with a few laughing words of explanation: “We’re going to look at the Punch and Judies!”

There was no definite response, but Hannah’s exclamation had an envious tone which made Ralph quicken his footsteps. It was rare good luck to get Darsie to himself for an hour; he certainly did not wish to be saddled with plain Hannah as an unwelcome third.

The ferry-boat was on the point of starting, its flat surfaces crowded with pleasure-seekers. Ralph and Darsie had to run the last few yards in order to secure a bare space for standing. Ralph took the outside with the nonchalance of the true boating-man, who would almost as soon fall in the water as not. Darsie, standing close by his side, glanced from one to the other of her companions, her never-failing interest in people discovering a story in each new group.

They had reached the middle of the stream, when a movement of the deck upset her balance, and sent her swaying against Ralph’s arm. She looked