Brenda's cousin at Radcliffe

by Helen Leah Reed

In justice to Ruth, it should be said that her change of view was not entirely due to the fact that the class, as a whole, had now a much greater appreciation of these two than in their first college years. She had seen her own mistake in attaching too much importance to Annabel’s judgments. This, combined with her own slight prejudice against girls a little unlike those to whom she was accustomed, had made the trouble. Ruth, too, had suffered so much from Julia’s coldness after the affair of the telegram that this misunderstanding had made her more charitable toward others. Though no explanation had yet been given of the origin of the newspaper article, she no longer believed Clarissa responsible for it. Ruth was not a snob, and the fact that Clarissa was now the popular captain of the basket ball team had had little to do in influencing her. Neither was she the more anxious to be considered Pamela’s friend because the latter was now the observed of all observers from having won the great prize open both to Harvard and Radcliffe students for a thesis on a classical subject by an honor student. The prize was newly established, and besides the honor it conferred, the money value was greater than that of any other prize offered. Pamela’s prospects had greatly brightened. Her scholarship for the year had covered her tuition, and she had done some tutoring. But the two hundred and fifty dollars which the prize would give her would free her from all worry until she could establish herself as a teacher. Very thankful was she that she had taken the summer for the special study and research needed for the thesis. The honor that she had won through the prize made a great impression on her relatives in Vermont, and her aunt wrote her a cordial letter, suggesting that after all they might let bygones be bygones, and adding that they would be very glad to have a visit from her as soon as her “school” was over. Pamela accepted the invitation, for she longed for a sight of her old home. But she wrote that it must be July before she could leave Cambridge. She had promised to stay with Miss Batson until after the Fourth of July.

Of all the Seniors in cap and gown Lois was perhaps the happiest, for it was the first year of her college course in which she was comparatively free from care. She was freer than ever before to enjoy the lighter side of college life. Whether presiding at a business meeting or receiving at a reception, Lois was greatly admired as President of the Idler. In fact, she filled the place so well that many wondered that she had not been thought of a year or two earlier. Polly, hearing these comments, was greatly amused by them, and inwardly commended herself for having brought it about that a girl who had never been called popular should in her last year of college be near the pinnacle of popularity. Nothing succeeds like success, and although Lois in office was just as independent as Lois out of office had been, yet she now was more at liberty to mingle with her classmates. The charm of her manner was realized, therefore, by many, whereas before it had been felt only by the few with whom she came in immediate contact.

Polly’s literary talent which had shown itself in a rather frivolous form in the operetta had so developed that her professors had encouraged her to undertake more serious work. One or two of her poems had appeared in “The Radcliffe Magazine,” and had been highly praised. But this commendation did not mean half as much to her as the fact that the “Advocate” had taken one of her short stories. After it was accepted, some time passed before it was published, and at first Polly thought that she would let no one hear of her good fortune until it was actually in print.

But at last she had to tell Clarissa, and then Clarissa begged permission to tell Julia, and in a short time all of Polly’s friends knew it. “Yet, honestly,” said Clarissa, “I don’t see why you are so set up about a little thing like that. It isn’t a bit better to have a story in the ‘Advocate’ than in—”

“I’d rather have it there,” said Polly, “than in the ‘Atlantic Monthly,’ or in any other of the large magazines.”

“Why, Polly Porson!”

“Well, you may see that I am right, because one can have a thing in the ‘Advocate’ only during a very limited time, while she has all her life to get into the others.”

“Yes, and sometimes it takes a person all her life to get in.”

“Then it’s well to make sure of the thing near at hand, like the ‘Advocate’”, was Polly’s response. And linking her arm in Clarissa’s, she walked off with her friend.

“Clarissa,” she said, as they withdrew out of hearing of the girls with whom they had been sitting, “have you ever found out about that newspaper article, that one about Professor Z’s notes?”