How the rest of that first week flew! Next day the freshman class list was read, and fortunately it included all the girls at Mrs. Chapin’s. Then there were electives to choose, complicated schedules to see through, first recitations to find, books to buy or rent, rooms to arrange, and all sorts of bewildering odds and ends to attend to. Saturday came before any one was ready for it, bringing in its wake the freshman frolic, a jolly, informal dance in the gymnasium, at which the whole college appears, tagged with its name, and tries to get accustomed to the size of the entering class, preparatory to becoming acquainted with parts of it later on. To Betty’s great delight Dorothy King met her in the hall of the Administration Building the day before and asked permission to take her to the frolic. At the gymnasium Miss King turned her over to a bewildering succession of partners, who asked her the stereotyped questions about liking college, having a pleasant boarding-place, and so on, tried more or less effectively to lead her through the crowd to the rather erratic music of one piano, and assured her that the freshman frolic was not at all like the other college dances. They all seemed very pleasant, but Betty felt sure she should never know them again. Nevertheless she enjoyed it all immensely and was almost sorry when the frolic was over and they adjourned to Dorothy’s pretty single room in the Hilton House, where a few other upper-class girls had been invited to bring their freshmen for refreshments.
“Wasn’t it fun?” said Betty to a fluffy-haired, dainty little girl who sat next her on Dorothy’s couch.
“I don’t think I should call it exactly fun,” said the girl critically.
“Oh, I like meeting new people, and getting into a crowd of girls, and trying to dance with them,” explained Betty.
“Yes, I liked it too,” said the girl. She had an odd trick of lingering over the word she wished to distinguish. “I liked it because it was so queer. Everything’s queer here, particularly roommates. Do you have one?”
Betty nodded. “Well, mine never made up her bed in her life before, and first she thought she couldn’t, but her mother told her to take hold and see what a Madison could do with a bed–they’re awfully proud of their old family–so she did; but it looks dreadfully messy yet, and it makes her late for chapel every single morning. Is yours anything like that?”
Betty laughed. “Oh, no,” she said. “She’s very orderly. Won’t you come and see us?”
The little freshman promised. By that time the “plowed field” was ready–an obliging friend had stayed at home from the frolic to give it an early start–and they ate the creamy brown squares of candy with a marshmallow stuffed into each, and praised the cook and her wares until a bell rang and everybody jumped up and began saying good-bye at once except Betty, who had to be enlightened by the campus girls as to the dire meaning of the twenty-minutes-to-ten bell.
“Don’t you keep the ten o’clock rule?” asked the fluffy-haired freshman curiously.
“Oh, yes,” said Betty. “Why, we couldn’t come to college if we didn’t, could we?” And she wondered why some of the girls laughed.