Or, “You must come to our house dance,” Babbie Hildreth would declare. “Just think how few Harding dances there are left for us to go to!”
Even the most commonplace events, such as reading aloud in the parlors after dinner, going down to Cuyler’s for an ice, or canoeing in Paradise at sunset took on a new interest. Seniors who had felt themselves superior to the material joys of fudge-parties and scorned the crudities of amateur plays and “girl-dances,” eagerly accepted invitations to either sort of festivity.
“And the moral of that, as our dear departed Mary Brooks would say,” declared Katherine, “is: Blessings brighten as diplomas come on apace. Between trying not to miss any fun and doing my best to distinguish myself in the scholarly pursuits that my soul loves, I am well nigh distraught. Don’t mind my Shakespearean English, please. I’m on the senior play committee, and I recite Shakespeare in my sleep.”
Dearest of all festivities to the Harding girl is Mountain Day, and there were all sorts of schemes afoot among 19—’s members for making their last Mountain Day the best of the four they had enjoyed so much. Horseback riding was the prevailing fad at Harding that fall, and every girl who could sit in a saddle was making frantic efforts to get a horse for an all-day ride among the hills. Betty was a beginner, but she had been persuaded to join a large party that included Eleanor, Christy, Madeline, Nita, and the B’s. They were going to take a man to look after the horses, and they had planned their ride so that the less experienced equestrians could have a long rest after luncheon, and taking a cross-cut through the woods, could join the others, who would leave the picnic-place earlier and make a long detour, so as to have their gallop out in peace.
It was a sunny, sultry Indian summer day,—a perfect day to ride, drive or walk, or just to sit outdoors in the sunshine, as Roberta Lewis announced her intention of doing. She helped the horseback riders to adjust their little packages of luncheon, and looked longingly after them, as they went cantering down the street, waving noisy farewells to their friends.
“I wish I weren’t such a coward,” she confided to Helen Adams, who was starting to join Rachel and Katherine for a long walk. “I love horses, but I should die of fright if I tried to ride one.”
“Oh, they have a man with them,” said Helen easily, “and it’s a perfect day for a ride.”
Roberta, who almost lived outdoors, and was weatherwise in consequence, looked critically at the western horizon. “I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if it rained before night,” she said. “You’d better decide to laze around in Paradise with me.”
But Helen only laughed at Roberta’s caution and went on, whereat Roberta Lewis was very nearly the only Harding girl who was not drenched to the skin before Mountain Day was over.
The riding-party galloped through the town and stopped at the edge of the meadows for consultation.