Meanwhile, the two girls, in their neat school dresses, made ready for their first class. Hilary, capable and serious, took notebook and pencil. Cathalina, who hardly knew how to prepare, followed her example. “I’m a great hand,” said Hilary, “to jot everything down and then I know just what to do.” They had consulted the schedule of hours and rooms the night before and had made out their lists with the name of each teacher.
“Number seventeen, Randolph,” mused Cathalina, “for Latin, and number fifteen for algebra. How shall I ever find out about everything. I envy the old girls. They needn’t waste so much time asking questions and wandering around.”
“O, we’ll be old girls next year,” said Hilary. “Let’s take the elevator down. It’s on the side next Randolph and near the covered way.”
Cathalina soon found herself, with about twenty other girls, entering a pleasant recitation room, at whose desk sat an intellectual looking woman of early middle age.
“My, she looks awful,” thought Cathalina, and glanced at her schedule again. “Prof. Emmeline Carver, M.A., Ph.D!”
In hushed silence the class sat waiting, most of them new, first year girls, scared and awed. To everybody’s relief, Dr. Carver spoke pleasantly, if a bit stiffly, gave the name of the text book and directed the class to the front hall where a supply of the books was on sale. With the assignment of a lesson and a few general remarks on the importance of their Latin course, she then dismissed them.
As the girls escaped, for that seemed to be the general feeling, one of them near Cathalina drew a long breath and said, “Doctor Carver. I don’t like her looks. I bet she carves us up, all rightee. They say what she doesn’t know about Latin and Greek and German isn’t worth knowing, but O my! Let me get my book and get to work!”
“Nonsense!” thought Cathalina. “I don’t believe she is so bad. She looks intelligent and interesting, as Mother would say. If she is too awful I’ll talk it over with Miss Randolph. She wont let me be actually slaughtered!” Cathalina almost giggled aloud at the application of Dr. Carver’s name. “‘Old Carver,’ Diane called her this morning, and I thought her so disrespectful and not at all refined. I wonder what Hilary will think of her in Cicero.”
At the algebra class Cathalina met Professor Goodman and liked him at once. He was a scholarly, kind-looking man, with a keen eye and a brisk manner. With his family he lived at Greycliff Heights.
“No real recitations today,” reported Cathalina to Hilary.