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again at the mental review of his misfortunes, "you tell Reddick to keep out of my way. If I get my hands on him before I've had time to cool off, there'll be a murder."
He let himself out through the gate in the railing, but Pinckney called him back to give him the passenger agent's telegram. Macdonald read it with a snort of contempt. "I'll do nothing of the sort!" he said, crumpling the message into a ball and throwing it into the waste-basket on his way to the door.
When Macdonald was gone, the cupboard under the copying-press yawned, and a dusty, sweat-begrimed harlequin bounded into the circle of light to dance around Pinckney's table, shaking its fists and rolling its eyes.
"Oh, you double-dyed hypocrite! you smooth-faced, lantern-jawed for eigner! Chuckle-headed dwarf, am I? -with a pin - head brain? You just wait, will you? Maybe I won't make you wish you'd been born deaf, dumb, and blind, before I get through with you!"
Reddick vanished, breathing out threatenings, and when the door closed behind him, an opportune call for a train-order saved Pinckney from the collapse which might otherwise have followed his bad quarter of an hour.
When Macdonald awoke the following morning, his angry determination to ignore his aunt's request had lost some of its vehemence. He was obliged to confess that she was in nowise to blame for his misfortunes; and since kinship has its undeniable demands, he could scarcely do less than she had asked. Accordingly, he met the excursion train upon its arrival and sought out the passenger agent, who was too busy at the moment to answer his question. When the time served, Miss Spurlock was not to be found; but a brakeman enlightened the inquirers.
"The little old Englishwoman, you mean? Yes, she was in this car; Mr. Elbert's been looking out for her-reckon she must be one of the English stockholders, isn't she?"
"Did they go away together?" asked Macdonald.
"That's what they did; made a bee
line for a carriage, soon as the train pulled in."
It was the last drop of bitterness in Macdonald's brimming cup. His affair was the common ground upon which these two people had met; the assumption of his rascality was doubtless the theme upon which each had enlarged during their short acquaintance. And now they had gone to Mellicent!
When an optimistic young man of cheerful habit begins to give ground to the blue devils, his retreat is apt to become a rout. Looking back upon his performances of yesterday, Macdonald accused himself wrathfully of having given place to childish credulity and unreasoning impulse; and the affront to his self-respect was simply unbearable. Clearly, there remained but one thing for him to do-to obliterate himself at once and unobtrusively. A west-bound train, ready to depart, offered the means. He could telegraph his resignation from a way-station, and he could send for his belongings when he had settled upon his destination. The conductor's "All aboard!" and the ringing of the engine-bell decided him; and he swung up to the step of the last car as No. 5 steamed out of the station.
An hour later, when Reddick went to the superintendent's office to arrange for the future movement of the excursion train, Burwell handed him a telegram. It was Macdonald's resignation; and the chief clerk of the passenger department did not shirk his responsibil ity. Obtaining permission to deliver the message, he went straight to the superintendent's house, and was closeted with Mr. Elbert for a humiliating quarter of an hour. When he came out, he was the bearer of a telegram which reached Macdonald at noon.
meeting-point with No. 6. That was an hour away, however, and many resolutions may be made and broken in sixty minutes. Before the time was half spent, Macdonald found himself fighting a losing battle with an irresistible desire to go back to Mellicent at whatever sacrifice of pride or selfesteem. The crisis came when the operator at Jornado handed two telegrams through the open window of the car as the train pulled in beside No. 6. The They were married a few weeks later, first was a telegraphic return pass; the and Reddick, who did many things second was less formal: well, was Macdonald's best man. The wedding journey paused longest at I have owned up and squared you with Whittlesey, and the young couple might everybody. have settled there had Fergus been less independent. As it was, they turned their faces westward again in the autumn, and Macdonald is, or was at last accounts, the division superintendent of the Grand River Extension. Having been his guest, I can testify to the cosiness of his home in the wind-swept valley at Mountain Junction; and it was there when I had risen to examine a typewritten letter framed and hanging over the library fireplace-that I heard from his own lips the story of "An Assisted Destiny."
"Come back and take it out on me.
No. 6 was behind time that evening, and it was late when Macdonald rung the bell at the house of the superintendent. Mellicent opened the door, and she scolded him tearfully for running
"There wasn't anything else to do, this morning," he said, humbly; and then-"Mellie, give me my cue quick, before we go in; what am I to say or do?"
"Anything you please; the murder's
out-papa and your aunt have fixed it all up between them, somehow. She has been trying to find you for years, and it was that letter that gave her the clew. The joke was too good to keep, and Mr. Pinckney wrote the operator at Whittlesey all about it.”
"The villain!" said Macdonaid; and then they went arm in arm into the sitting-room.
STORIES OF GIRLS' COLLEGE LIFE
AS TOLD BY HER
By Abbe Carter Goodloe
THE waiters had served the coffee and were retiring in long rows down the sides of the big dining-hall. The rattle of knives and forks and the noise of general and animated talk was subsiding, and the pleased, expectant hush which always precedes the toasts was falling upon the assembly. At the lower end of the room, farthest from the "distinguished-guest" table, the unimportant people began to turn their chairs around toward the speakers and to say "Sh," and "Who's that?" to each other in subdued whispers, and the seniors
grasped their sheep-skins less nervously and began to realize their importance, and the fact that they were no longer undergraduates but full-fledged alumnæ. And with the realization came a curious disagreeable sensation and a queer tightening in the throat, accompanied by a horrible inclination to shed tears over the closed chapter of their lives. Then they fiercely thought how their brothers act under similar circumstances, and wished they were men and could give the class yell and drink champagne to stifle their feelings. That be
ing impossible they tasted a very mild decoction of coffee and turned their troubled eyes to the far end of the room, and wished ardently that the President would get on her feet and say something funny to make them forget that this was the end-the last act of politeness on the part of the faculty to themthat they were being gracefully evicted, as it were, and could never be taken back upon the same terms or under the same conditions.
It was the annual Commencement dinner to the retiring senior class, and the senior class was, as usual, feeling collapsed and blank after the excite ment of Commencement week and the discovery that they were B. A.'s or B. S.'s, and that the world was before them and there would be no more faculties to set them going or haul them up, but that they would have to depend on their own faculties in the future. There was the annual foregathering of brilliant men and women whose presence was to be an incentive to the newly fledged alumnæ, and the display of whose wit and wisdom in after-dinner speeches was to be a last forcible impression of intellectual vigor and acquirements left on their minds.
quick side remark to her and ran his hands in a pleased, interested way through his long hair; and the young and already famous President of a certain college said, on rising, that he felt very genuine trepidation at attempting any remarks after that. He fully sustained his reputation, however, of a brilliant talker, and was followed by the honorary member of the juniors, whose post-prandial speeches have made him famous on both sides of the water.
The room became absolutely quiet, save for the voice of the speaker, the occasional burst of applause, and the appreciative murmur of the listeners. Outside, the afternoon began to grow mellow, long shadows thrown by the pointed turrets of the building lay across the green campus, the ivy at the big windows waved to and fro slightly in the cool breeze. Attention flagged; people began to tire of the clever, witty responses to the toasts and to look about them a little.
At one of the tables, reserved for the alumnæ, near the upper end of the room, sat a girl dressed in deep mourning. Her face was very beautiful and intelligent, with the intelligence that is more the result of experience than She of unusual mental ability. There were delicate, fine lines about the mouth and eyes. She could not have been more than twenty-four or five, but there was an air of firmness and decision about her which contradicted her blond-almost frivolous-beauty and lent dignity to the delicate figure.
Suddenly the President arose. stood there, graceful, perfectly at ease, waiting for a moment of entire silence. Her sensitive, bloodless face looked more animated than usual, her brown eyes quietly humorous. It was a face eminently characteristic-indicative of the element of popularity and adaptability in her nature that made her, just then, so valuable to the college. When she spoke her voice carried surprisingly far, notwithstanding its veiled, soft quality, so that those farthest from her were able to catch and enjoy the witty, gnomic, sarcastic manner of her speech. What she said was taken down by the short-hand reporter smuggled in for the occasion by the enterprising class-president and is enrolled in the class-book, so it need not be recorded here; but when she had finished, the editor of one of the foremost magazines in the country was smiling and nodding his head appreciatively, and a man whose sermons are listened to by thousands every Lord's Day leaned over and made some
After a while she leaned back in her chair a trifle wearily and looked about her curiously as if for changes. The general aspect of the place remained the same, she decided, but there were a great many new faces-new faces in the faculty, too, where one least likes to find them. Here and there she saw an old acquaintance and smiled perfunctorily, but, on the whole, there was no one present she cared very much to see. She had just come to the conclusion that she was sorry she had made the long journey to be present at the dinner when she became conscious that someone was looking intently at her across the room. She leaned forward eagerly and smiled naturally and
cordially for the first time. And then she sank back suddenly and blushed like a school-girl and smiled again, but in a different way, as if at herself, or at some thought that tickled her fancy. It certainly did strike her as rather amusing and presuming for her to be smiling and bowing so cordially to Professor Arbuthnot. She remembered very distinctly, in what awe she had stood of that learned lady, and that in her undergraduate days she had systematically avoided her, since she could not avoid her examinations and their occasionally disastrous consequences. She recalled very forcibly the masterly lectures, the logical, profound, often original talks, which she had heard in her lecture-room, though she had to acknowledge to herself reproachfully, that the matter of them had entirely escaped her memory. She had been one of a big majority who had always considered Professor Arbuthnot as a very high type-perhaps the highest type the college afforded-of a woman whose brains and attainments would make. her remarkable in any assembly of savants. In her presence she had always realized very keenly her own superficiality, and she felt very much flattered that such a woman should have remembered her and not a little abashed as she thought of the entire renunciation of study she had made since leaving college. She wondered what Professor Arbuthnot might be thinking about her-she knew she was thinking about her, because the bright eyes opposite were still fixed upon her with their piercing, not unkindly gaze. It occurred to her at last, humorously, that perhaps the Professor was not considering her at all, but some question in-thermo-electric currents for instance.
But Miss Arbuthnot's mind was not on thermo-electric currents; she was saying to herself: "She is much more beautiful than when she was here, and there is a new element of beauty in her face, too. I wonder where she has been since, and why she is in mourning. She was unintelligent, I remember. It's a great pity-brains and that sort of beauty rarely ever go together. Her name was Ellis-yes-Grace Ellis.
I think I must see her later." And the Professor gave her another piercing smile and settled herself to listen to a distinguished political economist a great friend of hers-speak. The Political Economist got upon his feet slowly and with a certain diffidence. He was a man who had made his way, self-taught, from poverty and ignorance to a professorship in one of the finest technical schools of America.
There was a brusqueness in his manner, and the hard experiences of his life had made him old. He spoke in a quiet, authoritative way. He declared with a rather heavy attempt at jocoseness, that his hearers had had their sweets first, so to speak, and that they must now go back and take a little solid, unpalatable nourishment; that he had never made a witty or amusing remark in his life, and he did not propose to begin and try then, and finally he hinted that the President had made a very bad selection when she invited. him to respond to the toast-" The Modern Education of Woman." As he warmed to his subject he became more gracious and easy in manner. He spoke at length of the evolution of women's colleges, their methods, their advantages, their limitations; he touched upon the salient points of difference between a man's college life and that of a girl; differences of character, of interests, of methods of work. And then he went on :
"I believe in it-I believe firmly in the modern education of woman. It is one of the things of most vital interest to me; but my enthusiasm does not blind me. There are phases of it which I do not endorse. I object to many of its results. The most obvious bad result is the exaggerated importance which the very phrase has assumed." He smiled plaintively around upon the company. Are we to have nothing but woman's education-toujours l'éducation de la femme? There is such eagerness to get to college, such blind belief in what is to be learned there, such a demand for a college education for women, that we are overwhelmed by it. Every year these doors are closed upon hundreds of disappointed women who turn elsewhere, or relin
quish the much-prized college education. The day is not far distant when it will be a distinct reproach to a woman that she is not college-bred." He looked down thoughtfully and intently and spoke more slowly.
"It is this phase of it which sometimes troubles me. Life is so rich in experiences for woman-so much richer and fuller for woman than for man -that I tremble at this violent reaction from nature to art. To-day woman seems to forget that she must learn to live, not live to learn. At the risk of being branded as 'behind the times,' of being considered narrow, bigoted, old-fashioned, I must say that until woman re-discovers that life is everything, that all she can learn here in a hundred times the four years of her college course, is but the least part of what life and nature can teach her, until then I shall not be wholly satisfied with the modern education of woman."
When he ceased there was an awkward and significant silence, and the editor looked over at him and smiled and shook his head reprovingly. And then the President got up quickly and with a few graceful, apropos remarks she restored good - humor, and taking the arm of the distinguished divine, led the way from the dining-hall to the reception-rooms, and people jostled each other good-naturedly, and edged themselves between chairs and tables to speak to acquaintances, and there was much laughter and questioning and exclamations of surprise and delight, until finally the long procession got itself outside the dining-hall into the big corridors.
At the door Professor Arbuthnot caught sight of Miss Ellis again. She beckoned to the girl, who came quickly toward her.
"I am tired and am going to my rooms for a while, will you come?" The girl blushed again with pleasure and some embarrassment.
"I should be delighted," she said simply, and together they walked down the broad hall-way.
"It's very good of you," she broke in nervously looking down at the small, quiet figure beside hers-she was head and shoulders taller than the Professor.
"It has been four years--I can hardly believe it," said the girl, softly. She wondered vaguely what on earth Miss Arbuthnot could wish to see her forshe had been anything but a favorite with the faculty as a student, but she felt very much flattered and very nervous at the attention bestowed upon her.
When she reached Professor Arbuthnot's rooms, the embarrassment she had felt at being noticed by so distinguished a member of the faculty, visibly increased.
The place was so typical-the absence of all ornament and feminine bric-a-brac
the long rows of book-shelves filled with the most advanced works on natural sciences, the tables piled up with brochures and scientific magazines, enveloped her in an atmosphere of profound learning quite oppressive. She had never been in the room but once before, and that was on a most inauspicious occasion - just after the midyear's. She wondered uneasily, and yet with some amusement, if Professor Arbuthnot remembered the circumstance. But that lady was not thinking of the young girl. She was busy with her mail, which had just been brought in, opening and folding up letter after letter in a quick, methodical way.
"More work for me," she said, smiling; "here is an invitation to deliver. six lectures on electro-optics." The girl looked at her admiringly.
"Absolutely I've forgotten the very meaning of the words; and as for lecturing!" she broke off with a little laugh. "Are you going to give them?" Yes it makes a great deal of work for me, but I never refuse such invitations. Besides I shall be able to take these lectures almost bodily from a little book I am getting out." Professor Arbuthnot went over to the desk and lifted up a pile of manuscript, and smiled indulgently at the girl's exclamation of awe.