The Mystery of Arnold Hall Read online

  CHAPTER II ANNE

  Swinging her chair sharply about to face the aisle, she met the amusedgaze of a red-haired girl of about her own age.

  "Tell me," begged Patricia impulsively, leaning forward, "was I--doinganything--unusual while I was asleep?"

  "I'll say you were," responded the girl, smiling broadly.

  "What?"

  "You--you were--stroking the ankles of that young man back of you as ifyour life depended on it," choked the stranger.

  "No!" cried Patricia, in great distress.

  "Yes! Then suddenly you pinched the poor fellow, and I thought I'd just_die_!"

  At that moment the man in question rose and hurried down the aisle towardthe smoker. With crimson face, Patricia watched the slight boyish figure,with its crown of smooth yellow hair, disappear before she againaddressed her neighbor.

  "I'm embarrassed to death! What _must_ he think of me? I can't apologizefor something I didn't know I was doing; and if I try to explain, it willlook as if we were trying to scrape up an acquaintance. What would youdo?"

  "I'd just let it go, and try to forget it," advised the other girl,raising up in her chair to lower the shade a little; for the sun wasshining full upon her.

  "Do you suppose the rest of these people saw me?" persisted Patricia,glancing anxiously around the car.

  There were not many other passengers; an old lady, apparently absorbed ina weighty-looking volume; a couple of middle-aged men, with their headsclose together, evidently discussing some important question; a youngmother, absorbed in the baby in her arms; and a scared-looking, awkwardgirl, who gazed moodily out of the window, occasionally munching achocolate from a box in her lap.

  "I don't think so," replied the red-haired girl, settling herself anew inher chair, and smoothing out the skirt of her dark green suit. "Iprobably shouldn't have, if I hadn't been watching you."

  "Watching me?" repeated Patricia, opening her brown eyes very wide insurprise.

  "Yes; and wondering if by any chance you were going to Granard College."

  "I am, but what in the world made you think so?"

  "Oh, you looked like a college girl, some way, and then being on thistrain, which, this time of year, is a favorite one for the Granardstudents. Don't know where they all are today, though. Are you justentering?"

  "Yes, and no," laughed Patricia. "I did my Freshman work at Brentwood; soI'm entering the Soph class here."

  "Congratulations! Welcome to the class of 19--. I'm one of yourclassmates-to-be. Anne Ford, at your service."

  "My name is Patricia Randall, and I'm very glad to get acquainted withsome one before I get to Granard. I confess I have stage fright at theprospect of meeting so many strangers."

  "Don't let that bother you. The girls are easy to get on with, and you'llsoon feel as if you'd always been at Granard," said Anne carelessly.

  Patricia realized, however, that it would not be quite so simple to breakinto a class whose cliques and customs had had a whole year's startbefore she came on the scene.

  "How did you happen to choose Granard?" inquired Anne curiously. "Do youknow anyone there?"

  "My cousin," replied Patricia, breathing a prayer of thanks for thesecond question which enabled her to disregard the first. "Ted Carter; doyou know him?"

  "Ted Carter! I should say I do!" exclaimed Anne, adding, quickly andsomewhat possessively, "Ted's my best boy friend."

  "How nice!" commented Patricia so heartily that all the suspicions whichhad arisen in Anne's mind as to possible claims on the fascinating Teddywere promptly allayed.

  "Come on over here," suggested Anne, turning a vacant chair to face her;"and we'll have a cozy chat."

  Patricia gladly accepted the invitation, and as she settled herself withone foot tucked under her, a habit whenever she wished to be especiallycomfortable, Anne asked:

  "Do you know yet where you're to room?"

  "Yes; Arnold Hall."

  "You _are_?" exclaimed Anne, gazing at Patricia in astonishment. "Youcertainly must have some pull."

  "Why?" inquired Patricia, in a puzzled tone.

  "Because Arnold Hall's the best dorm at Granard, and there's always awaiting list for it. You're a lucky girl to be able to break right intoit. My reservation was made while I was still in high school."

  "Oh, then you live there? I'm _so_ glad!" There was no mistaking the noteof gratification in Patricia's tone, nor the admiring gaze of her browneyes which rested somewhat shyly upon her new acquaintance.

  Anne smiled in the manner of one who is so accustomed to being popularthat it has long ceased to be exciting. There was something unusual aboutthis new girl, evidently, or old Hattersley would never have let her getinto Arnold Hall. It evidently wasn't money; for though Patricia'sclothes were in good taste, they were not expensive. She had no friendsthere, except her cousin. Perhaps it was scholarship, or some powerfulinfluence from Brentwood or high school.

  Patricia, meanwhile, was wondering what Anne would say if she were totell her that when Dad had written for a room for Patricia, theregistrar, somebody by the name of Hattersley, had promptly replied thatone had already been reserved for her in Arnold Hall. They had speculatedon the strange fact for days, and had been forced to leave the mysteryunsolved, just as they had the arrival of the check.

  "Do you know Aunt Betsy?" inquired Patricia, presently.

  "Not personally," replied Anne, smiling broadly; "but I've heard of her."

  "I'll warrant you have," giggled Patricia. "She's as good as gold, butmost awfully funny. You never know what she's going to say or do next. Wesay she has only three interests: Ted, and Ted, and Ted. They used tolive near us in Brentwood, but when my cousin won a scholarship atGranard, she rented her house and took an apartment down here so shecould give Ted all the comforts of home during his course. She meantwell, of course; but I feel sort of sorry for Ted. I fancy he'd rather bea bit freer. One night during his Freshman year he stayed out to dinnerand for the evening without telling her; so she ran all over the campuslooking for him, quite sure that the terrible Sophs had imprisoned himsomewhere."

  "I have heard that story," laughed Anne. "He was at the Zeta OmegaHouse--that's right next to Arnold Hall."

  "When Aunt Betsy heard that I was coming down, she wrote Dad that shecould take me in just as well as not, and that I'd be far morecomfortable with her than in any dorm--"

  "But you preferred to be less comfortable," interrupted Anne.

  "I certainly did. I've wanted to live in a dorm ever since I knew whatcollege was. Tell me something about Granard so I won't be quite soignorant."

  Anne began to talk animatedly of college affairs, and Patricia's eyes gotbigger and bigger and her cheeks redder and redder as she became more andmore interested. Neither of the girls noticed that the blond youth hadreturned to his chair and was watching them intently.

  "My goodness!" exclaimed Anne, glancing out of the window a couple ofhours later, as the train began to slow down. "I didn't realize that wewere nearly in. We change to the bus here at Plainville. Come on! Theymake only a two-minute stop here."

  Grabbing their bags, the two girls hurried out of the train onto a longplatform splashed with big drops of rain. At the end farthest from thetrain a bus was waiting for passengers; and just as they reached it, therain, now driven by a brisk wind, began to fall in torrents. Laughing andbreathless, they scrambled up the steps of the bus and sank into seatsnear the door.

  "Here comes a friend of yours," remarked Anne, peering out of the doorwayat other travelers, scurrying across the glistening platform.

  Thinking that perhaps Ted had come that far to meet her, Patricia leanedforward just as the young man with the light hair bounded up the stepsand collided sharply with her outstretched head.

  "Oh, say--I'm awfully sorry," he cried, flushing brilliantly. "I hope Ididn't hurt you."

  "Not in the least!" lied Patricia curtly, trying desperately to fightback tears. Ever sin
ce she could remember, any sudden blow or fall hadmade her cry, whether she was really badly hurt or not. It was a mostembarrassing habit, now that she was grown up. As she elaboratelystraightened her little brown hat which was over one ear, and tried torecover her poise, the youth passed on to the other end of the bus.

  "Wonder when and where your next encounter will be," observed Anne, asthe driver closed the doors and started the big bus. "Three times--youknow."

  "Never, I hope," replied Patricia emphatically, little dreaming what thefuture held in store for her. "Does this bus take us right to college?"

  "No, only to the foot of the hill about one-half mile from the campus.We'll be there in an hour."

  "Have you a room mate?" inquired Patricia, a few minutes later.

  "No, I have one of the three singles on the first floor. Where are you tobe?"

  "I don't know, but I hope that it will be near you, and that I'll have aroom mate."

  "Why?" asked Anne, idly tracing designs on the steamed window beside her.

  "Because I've always wanted one. It's a bit lonesome, being an onlychild."

  "Sometimes you'd wish you were," laughed Anne, "if your sister tried toboss you as mine frequently does. Joan and I are usually pretty goodfriends, but once in so often we have a flare-up."

  "Oh, I hope I'll be able to get along peaceably with a room mate, if Ihave one," said Patricia earnestly. "Maybe I wouldn't though. I guess Imust be pretty well spoiled."

  "Don't look so worried!" ordered Anne. "And, by the way, don't take toheart everything the girls may say. Living all together, as we do, we arepretty frank at times, but everybody takes it in good part."

  When the bus stopped, it was still raining, and the two girls ran hastilyacross the muddy road to a small rustic shelter.

  "Well!" said Anne, shaking her wet umbrella. "Evidently none of the girlshave come down to meet the bus. Don't blame 'em much on such a 'nausty'day. So we'll have to climb the hill by ourselves and take our own bags."

  "Bags!" exclaimed Patricia, clutching Anne's arm, as she opened her greenumbrella preparatory to starting up the hill.

  "Yes, bags; what about them?"

  "I--I haven't mine! I must have left it on the bus."

  "Good night!" ejaculated Anne forcefully.

  "What shall I do?"

  "You can't do a thing but wait and see if the driver finds it, and bringsit back on his next trip. Is your name on it?"

  "Yes."

  Anne closed her umbrella again, set her own bag in a corner, and loosenedher jacket. "Might as well sit down, I suppose," she commented, leadingthe way to a bench across the back of the shelter. "There won't beanother bus for an hour."

  "Oh, but you needn't stay," offered Patricia heroically. "I can waitalone."

  "Yes, if I'll let you; but I won't," replied Anne, pushing back somelittle red curls which had escaped from under the brim of her smart greenhat.

  "It's mighty good of you," said Patricia gratefully; for she had hated tothink of staying here all alone for a full hour.

  "I never desert a friend in distress."

  "'A friend in need,'" quoted Patricia.

  "Speaking of friends," interrupted Anne, "what became of the blond youth?I didn't see him get off the bus; did you?"

  "No, but he might have just the same. I was too excited over my bag tothink of anything else."

  "He may have gone on to Mendon, but I doubt it. I've never seen himbefore, but he looked to me like a college fellow."

  "Just as I did," began Patricia.

  "You never looked like a college fellow in your life!" retorted Anne,laughing.

  "Well, I mean," said Patricia, flushing.

  "I understand what you mean; but, just the same, I am curious to knowwhat became of the boy."

  The time passed more quickly than they thought it would, and both weresurprised when a grey bus loomed up in the distance. As soon as it cameto a stop, Patricia ran out in the rain to question the driver.

  "Did you find a bag?" she demanded eagerly.

  The fat, good-natured driver wrinkled up his forehead thoughtfully andthen nodded.

  "It's mine," she declared, with relief. "Please give it to me."

  "Sorry, Miss; but I can't."

  "Why not?" inquired Patricia, a bit impatiently.

  "Because it's back at the station. I didn't know whose it was, and wehave to turn everything in. Then it has to be identified by its owner."

  At this point Anne, who had been the center of a group of girls who hadgotten off of the bus, left her friends and came to Patricia's rescue.

  "Mike," she said, smiling sweetly up at the big driver, "couldn't youbring Miss Randall's bag down on your next trip? We don't want to go allthe way back to town now."