“For you, my sweet pet, it is certainly trouble enough that you must take home to dear auntie this abominable report card. But yet, remember, that is in the past. Your scholarship for the month of December has been sacrificed, honey; laid on the altar of—what? Shall we say, of a Sigma Pi Epsilon dance? Think it over, dearie, and see if I am right. And study a few hours every day in the Christmas vacation to make up back work. Then start again with the new year, pass your semi-final examinations, and begin the next half, in February, with the spirit of work. That is all, honey. You may go.”
CHAPTER VIII
FEBRUARY RUSHING
MADEMOISELLE was a prophet. Her letter to Marquis brought back a prompt reply, addressed to the principal of the Marston High School, and confessing that the “Fool-killer,” though it had been executed in the Beta Sigma fraternity house, was every stroke his work and entirely his fault. He offered an apology to every teacher caricatured, both for the personal affront and for his own error as regarded influence and example, and explained that, when he had refused to answer Mr. Talbot on the ground that it was dishonourable to tell tales, he had been led by a desire to amuse his Beta Sigma brothers—not in the least by a wish to turn suspicion on any other person. In fact, though he was ashamed to confess it, he had not once thought of that as a consequence of his act, until he had received Mademoiselle’s letter.
The communication was frank and manly; Marquis Granville was president of the class which would be graduated from Marston in June; his record as a student had been exceptionally brilliant up to this time; and he was the son of a wealthy, influential citizen. One or all of these reasons may have worked in his behalf. At any rate, when he came back to school after the holidays, the matter had been hushed, and he and Bobs were both found in their old places.
Meanwhile, the Christmas holiday had been a merry, busy time for Jacquette. There had been numerous sorority engagements, the most important of which was the annual luncheon, given at one of the fashionable hotels for the entertainment of out-of-town chapters of Sigma Pi; but she had firmly declined invitations to three alluring fraternity dances, and had not only saved some hours for study, but had gladdened the hearts of her grandfather and Aunt Sula by finding time to show a little of the old Brookdale interest in the home Christmas celebration.
She had tried, too, to take Mademoiselle’s advice about putting “the little Quisses and Bobses” out of her thoughts, and she came back to school in January with her face set in the right direction. All that month she studied hard, doing the best work of her year, and, when the semi-finals came, her marks averaged high enough to pass her in everything. They were not marks to be vain over, but at least they gave her the chance to go on and do better in the coming half.
Then came February, with its influx of new girls from grammar-school.
“You’ll have to be easy with me this month, Tia,” Jacquette said, as she was starting for school one morning in the first week of the new half. “February is the great rush time of the whole year for sororities; even more so than September. You see, the girls that get through grammar school in February instead of June are the brightest ones. That’s the reason we go after them so hard. Of course I’m remembering our bargain, and I’m not going to let Sigma Pi interfere with my studies—not if I have to sit up all night to do them—but you mustn’t expect me home right after school for awhile, because there’ll be spreads and pledging and all kinds of things going on, every afternoon.”
“It won’t be keeping the bargain, though, if you have to ‘sit up all night’ to do lessons,” Aunt Sula reminded.