“Perhaps we could get Dorothy Appleton and Jane Mills in the Psyche Club, then.”
“I think it is too late, at least the girls think so, and they are in the other society, you know. Lilian said that we had all formed different groups. But they are lovely girls and very friendly. When they went into the Emerson Literary Society last year, they were with a different crowd, and now, of course, they are ‘rushing’ against our girls, that is, I suppose we can call them our girls!”
“Do you think they will ask us to join the Whittiers?”
“Do I think so?—with Cathalina president, and Hilary secretary, and Lilian on the program committee? Yes, Miss Hope, I think that it is quite likely. One of the girls in the debating club asked me the other day if it was of any use for the Emerson Society to invite us. She said, ‘With all those girls in your Psyche Club that are in the Whittier Society, I suppose you wouldn’t think of being an “Emerson,” but you and Virgie are such fine debaters that we’d get you in if we could.’ Now wasn’t that nice?”
“Who was it?”
“Lucile Houston, and Jane Mills was with her. I just said something about appreciating their good opinion. I was so overcome by it, you see, that I neglected altogether to state whether or not we were interested in an invitation from the Emersons.”
“Doesn’t it seem funny not to be in society tonight?”
“Yes. I felt as if I ought to rush down to the Shakespearean Society and call the meeting to order tonight. But I am glad of the rest. And I feel so grown up to be in the first real collegiate class that I scarcely know myself. I mean to get ahead on work these few weeks before we get into society work, and say, I can knit like everything while I commit my debate speeches or the other things we have to learn for the oratory class. As soon as I finish a scarf or two, I’m going to begin on sweaters. It is so crazy that I never learned before, with Aunt Helen right there to teach me. But I learned how to knit socks this summer.”
The corridors were full of girls in the pretty dresses which they had worn to dinner, hurrying toward the different society halls. Soft bells were ringing here and there. These were important meetings, for new members were to be elected, matters connected with the sending out of invitations to be decided, besides the usual pressing affairs of girls’ literary societies. There were only two societies in the two collegiate classes, hence the rivalry. One or two others had ingloriously died soon after their birth. Only the devoted Whittiers and Emersons had survived.
Two pink spots burned on the cheeks of Cathalina Van Buskirk, for she was to take the “oath of office” tonight, sit in the famous chair on the little platform and wield the gavel of ebony, presented by a famous graduate who had made a name for herself. The other new officers were also to be initiated, and then the important matters of business were to be conducted. “Hilary, wink at me if I do anything wrong, and then I will find it necessary to consult the secretary,” said Cathalina gayly, as they entered the door.