“The fun here is in pulling off the work and still getting in the fun,” she assured Constance, paddling up a tiny bay, whose banks were blue with forget-me-nots. Timmy dropped her paddle, brushed the hair out of her eyes, and smiled engagingly at young Constance. “You understand what I mean, of course,” she flattered adroitly. “I can see that you’re not the muddling kind. Anyway Georgia says you are very clever. Well, all I say is, look at me and don’t worry about the good times we have. Now shall we get the Belden a little more forget-me-not for its sentimental senior party?”
Constance spoke enthusiastically to Georgia of Paradise and Miss Wentworth. She dropped not a hint of surprises or disappointments. That afternoon Billy Barstow, a petite, pretty sophomore, with a distinctly frivolous air, took Constance for a stroll round the campus. It was hot, and they spent most of the time in the gym. basement, watching the divers in the swimming-tank and exchanging confidences about many things. Billy was secretly bored, but she concealed it so well that Constance decided Billy should be her first crush. Billy had put this idea into her head by explaining how Georgia had been her first crush. Dickie Drake appeared a day or two later. She wasn’t pretty, but she was very distinguished-looking, Constance decided. She was also engaged, and willing to talk about Tom to anybody who would listen,—even to Georgia’s sub-freshman sister.
“She’ll get her self-consciousness knocked out of her in short order up here,” Dick assured the cousin whom she had come to visit. “And then she’ll be a very nice child. Remember what a detestable little prig I was when I came up—a snob and man-crazy and insufferably lazy. And they turned me out a rather decent sort—not half good enough for Tom, but much improved.”
Everybody agreed that young Constance showed the proper spirit in ignoring the base deception that had been practiced upon her, and in appearing to enjoy every minute of her week in Harding. Even the stony-hearted Madeline admitted that she had richly earned her Winsted dessert. And so the most select frat. in Winsted found its end-of-the-season dance mysteriously turned into an ovation for a pretty sub-freshman friend of Eugenia Ford’s. As the sub-freshman was undeniably a “winner,” the frat. forgave John Ford for making such a fuss about her, and promptly added her name to the next year’s guest-list. Which meant that foolish young Constance would not pine away for lack of masculine society, if she decided to enter Harding in the fall.
“It’s queer about nicknames,” said Straight Dutton, waving her handkerchief after Constance’s Boston-bound train. “It’s queer how many nicest girls get tagged with boys’ names. Young Constance has confided to Georgia that she’ll have a try at Harding. Now what got her was that Timmy and Dickie and Bill and Bob Blake are all the finest ever. If they hadn’t been, everything would have gone to smash. It’s certainly queer how many nicest girls get nicknamed Bob and Bill and Dickie.”
“The reason,” said Madeline wisely, “is that the very nicest girls are all-around nice—not sissy nice, or young-lady nice, or clever nice, but nice every way,—and just as good fun to play about with as any man in the world. And the rest of us notice that, without stopping to analyze it, and call them Bob or Billy.”
“Um—maybe you’re right,” said Straight slowly. “I presume you are. All I know for sure is that we’ve scored. Hurray for Billy and Bob and Dickie and Timmy! Hurrah for we, us, and company that planned it all! Hurray for Harding!”
CHAPTER XV
THE NEW WOMAN AT HARDING
“Goodness! I’m glad I elected this sociology course.” Fluffy Dutton precipitated herself through the half-open door of Timmy Wentworth’s big corner double (universally called Timmy’s room, though half of it, of course, belonged to Sallie Wright), tossed her note-book on the table, dexterously extracted two fat cushions from behind Eugenia Ford’s head, and as dexterously inserted them and herself on Sallie’s couch, in a practically invisible vacancy between Straight and Montana Marie O’Toole. There were plenty of other seats to choose from, but Fluffy was intent on securing a central position as regards both the conversation and the refreshments which her keen eyes had detected in Susanna Hart’s lap.
There were loud remonstrances from Eugenia and Straight, amused giggles from Montana Marie, and then, because it was a hot, unprofitable May day, with “absolutely nothing doing,” as Straight had just remarked, objections to Fluffy’s high-handed conduct subsided in favor of an interest in Fluffy’s sudden and amazing fondness for sociology.