Brenda's cousin at Radcliffe

by Helen Leah Reed

One afternoon soon after the mid-years, Julia was at work in the stack of Gore Hall, the Harvard Library. For the past two years she had been delving deep into American History, and in a certain research course she felt more interest than in almost any other of her studies. She hoped before graduating to have accumulated notes enough for the basis of a monograph. Several such monographs had been published, under the auspices of Radcliffe, on other subjects besides history, and they had been praised for their originality. Julia’s chosen subject dealt with the early history of the country, and at present she was studying the formation of the government. A special card gave her access to the great collection of books in the Harvard Library stack. Her professor suggested the books to be considered each week, and she submitted her notes to him and reported what she had read.

On this particular day, surrounded by the many volumes of “Eaton’s Debates,” she was absorbed in tracing some difficult point. The long windows of the wing where she sat let in so much light that she did not realize that it was growing late. Accordingly as she pushed her way through the doors into the Main Library she was surprised to find it deserted of students and attendants. The silence and gloom were disturbing. There was no doubt but that she was locked in alone in the great building. What the possibilities were for her getting out before morning she did not know. The accessible windows were all too high from the ground to permit her to jump out, even if she had any way of opening them. Figures were passing through the Yard, but she disliked to make a disturbance by knocking on the glass. If some student should come to her rescue, he might thoughtlessly mention her plight, and then what joy for the “Lampoon” and the daily paper, and any other publication that enjoyed a chance to laugh at Radcliffe girls! Julia stood there, looking from the window rather disconsolately. She did not doubt but that before night should set in a watchman or a janitor or some one else would appear on the scene to free her.

But a few hours in the building would be very tiresome, especially as she had no light, and therefore could not pass the time reading. An hour, perhaps, went by, and still Julia saw no way of getting out of the building. She wondered what Ruth would think when she failed to appear for dinner. She moved restlessly around the delivery room, staying as long as possible near the windows. She hoped that some woman might pass this corner of the Yard, who would pay attention to her, if she tapped on the window. But all who approached passed so far from the Library building that she saw little chance of carrying out her plan. Had she been there hours or weeks? The unemotional Julia was actually shedding a tear or two, though she felt ashamed of herself for her weakness. How it would have amused Polly to see her usually calm friend as disturbed as any one else would have been by her misadventure. After another period of hopeless standing by the window, Julia’s heart gave a sudden bound. A strangely familiar figure was coming near. But no! It could not be! Yet it was strange that any one else should walk with that long, quick step, with head bent after a fashion that she had not seen in any one for three years.

This person, to be sure, wore a soft hat, and he looked a little heavier than Philip, but no one else could walk in that way, and Philip had always been devoted to those short sack coats. Yet Philip was two thousand miles away, and Julia began to think that her little period of imprisonment was wearing on her brain. How she ventured to do it she often wondered afterwards. But jumping up on the window sill she unfastened the window, and then jumping down she managed to lift it an inch or two. The slight noise attracted the attention of the young man she had observed, who was now standing directly beneath the window.

“Locked in!” she called to him. “Could you find some one to let me out?”

“Why, yes,” he replied, “at least I’ll try; but couldn’t you—” here he seemed to measure the distance with his eye—“but couldn’t you jump out?”

The sound of the stranger’s voice reassured Julia; he was certainly Philip, but he had not recognized her. He probably thought her one of the Library assistants. But although the distance was not too great for safety it seemed to Julia unwise to jump. She did not like the idea of attracting attention; there were likely to be passers-by at any minute.

“Come,” said the young man, “this would really be the best way. One foot on my shoulder, I’ll give you the word when no one is passing, and you must be quick, too.”

Had Julia not known the identity of her rescuer she probably would not have accepted his offer. But the prospect of noting his amazement was too good to refuse.

“You’ll do it?” he asked a little impatiently.