That evening when all the girls new and old, college and preps alike, gathered in the spacious, historic old parlors for a get-acquainted rally, it was only natural that Mimi be in the center of the group of new preps. Mimi knew so many cute yells and songs and she plunged into the task of teaching her group a yell with characteristic enthusiasm. The old preps had centered around Betsy Buchanan. Betsy, till now, had been their undisputed leader. She was a striking looking girl of perhaps fifteen; her short brown hair was slicked back from her forehead making a peculiarity about her eyes more noticeable. She had one blue eye and one brown eye, and the thickest, curliest eyelashes imaginable. Mimi had admired her all afternoon but hadn’t met her. She looked questioningly toward her now. Mimi could feel a crisis. There was always a shaky feeling in the pit of her stomach when something vital was about to happen. She felt that way now.
Steadily she returned Betsy’s look.
Olivia pulled Betsy’s sleeve, forcing her attention. “Let’s give a locomotive for the new girls.” Betsy repeated, “Locomotive for the new girls—One, two, three.” The cheer went up.
For answer Mimi drew the heads of the new girls closer to her and in a stage whisper had them repeat after her a long yack—yack—yack, ending in a sky rocket for the old girls. Twice they rehearsed it. “Pitch your voice low—make it snappy—now! One—two—three——”
Another yell went up.
As Mimi jumped up in the center of her group and flung her arms up wildly to end the sky rocket, she saw something she couldn’t believe—a short plump girl with a weekend bag in one hand and a violin in the other was standing in the hall with Mrs. Cole.
“Sue!” Mimi gasped. “Sue!” and dived through the crowd. As she ran she had shed her worries about a roommate. Here was Sue and what could be more perfect! She did not dream she was racing to a disappointment. She did not know that Betsy was glad she was gone.
CHAPTER IV
FOLLOW THE LEADER
“You’ll love our room, Sue!” Mimi was saying as she relieved Sue of some of her luggage as they trailed Mrs. Cole’s swishing serge skirt toward Prep Hall. Styles could come and styles could go but Mrs. Cole’s dark gored skirts with tails and her white shirt waists would be at Sheridan forever. “Mrs. Cole wears a uniform, too,” a last year’s girl had already informed Mimi.
“How did you manage to get here? Why didn’t I know? How could you keep from telling me?’