Immediately the thought crossed Shirley’s mind that if such were the case she might as well pay no attention to clubs or societies, those, at least, whose membership was elective. For some reason she felt that no “double” would want to elect her—but then she had a second thought: If she were the one whose double came into a school, she would think it a test of her generosity to admit her to its advantages.
There was little time for thinking about this comparatively small matter, for class time was not far away. Every girl had some important thing to do next. The conversation between Madge, Shirley and Betty whisked to the day’s program and Shirley had much to find out. Her courses had been arranged long since. Books, the location of the class rooms and matters of registration were now Shirley’s concern.
As they hurried from the dining-room after breakfast, Madge asked Shirley if she would like to meet Sidney. “Oh, no, Madge,” Shirley replied. “I haven’t time for one thing extra, and then I think that it would be better for her to hear about me first, if possible, rather than to have the shock of seeing me. I caught a glimpse of her on my trip, but she has never heard of me.”
“It’s good of you to think of that,” returned Madge. “I think that I like you pretty well, Shirley Harcourt.”
CHAPTER VIII.
SHIRLEY’S FIRST DAY.
As Miss Schiff had notified the dean about the strange resemblance, Shirley was obliged to meet no surprise on the dean’s part, or embarrassment on her own during her first conference. She found the dean dignified, receptive, kind in rather a reflective, serious way. Shirley ascribed her manner partly to the fact of the resemblance, but it was not even mentioned. Miss Irving asked her a few questions, then directed her in regard to her immediate movements.
Soon Shirley was armed with the cards on slips which admitted her to classes. These, she knew, would serve also to identify her. In consequence, she went with quiet assurance to her class rooms, determined to show no self-consciousness if she could help it.
In the college atmosphere, with her father one of the best loved professors on the faculty, Shirley had been taught to think of others, and that altruism, together with long custom in meeting teachers and crowds of young people, helped her now. These classes were small and held in pretty class rooms that pleased Shirley.
Sometimes Shirley felt a little amusement over the situation, but she thought how very annoying it must be to the other girl to have a double appear so unexpectedly, a girl who was to live under the same roof, go to the same meals, attend the same classes for a whole school year. But in spite of Shirley’s kind thought of the other girl, just how annoying it was to Sidney Thorne she could scarcely know.
As she entered the first class, Shirley was more concerned with her lack of preparation than with anything else. It was the class in English. She went at once to the desk to speak to the teacher and offer her name for enrollment. This teacher, too, must have had the word passed to her, or must have seen her at breakfast, for she showed no surprise and when Shirley said, “Of course, Miss Berry, I am not prepared this morning,” she nodded pleasantly. “You may make up such work as you have lost,” she said.