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SMITH COLLEGE STORIES




     SMITH COLLEGE STORIES

     TEN STORIES BY
     JOSEPHINE DODGE DASKAM

     NEW YORK
     CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
     MCM




     _Copyright, 1900, by Charles Scribner's Sons_
     _D. B. Updike, The Merrymount Press, Boston_




     _To my Mother, who sent me to college,
     I offer these impressions of it._

     _J. D. D._




PREFACE


If these simple tales serve to deepen in the slightest degree the
rapidly growing conviction that the college girl is very much like any
other girl--that this likeness is, indeed, one of her most striking
characteristics--the author will consider their existence abundantly
justified.

     J. D. D.




CONTENTS


          I

     _The Emotions of a Sub-guard_        1

          II

     _A Case of Interference_            37

          III

     _Miss Biddle of Bryn Mawr_          67

          IV

     _Biscuits ex Machina_               85

          V

     _The Education of Elizabeth_       123

          VI

     _A Family Affair_                  151

          VII

     _A Few Diversions_                 205

          VIII

     _The Evolution of Evangeline_      247

          IX

     _At Commencement_                  279

          X

     _The End of It_                    321




THE FIRST STORY

_THE EMOTIONS OF A SUB-GUARD_




I

THE EMOTIONS OF A SUB-GUARD


Theodora pushed through the yellow and purple crowd, a sea of flags
and ribbons and great paper flowers, caught a glimpse of the red and
green river that flowed steadily in at the other door, and felt her
heart contract. What a lot of girls! And the freshmen were always
beaten--

"Excuse me, but I _can't_ move! You'll have to wait," said some one.
Theodora realized that she was crowding, and apologized. A tall girl
with a purple stick moved by the great line that stretched from the
gymnasium to the middle of the campus, and looked keenly at Theodora.
"How did you get here?" she asked. "You must go to the end--we're not
letting any one slip in at the front. The jam is bad enough as it is."

Theodora blushed. "I'm--I'm on the Sub-team," she murmured, "and I'm
late. I--"

"Oh!" said the junior. "Why did you come in here? You go in the other
door. Just pass right in here, though," and Theodora, quite crimson
with the consciousness of a hundred eyes, pulled her mackintosh about
her and slipped in ahead of them all.

             Oh, _here's_ to Ninety-_yellow_,
             And her _praise_ we'll ever _tell_--_oh_,
     Drink her _down_, drink her _down_, drink her _down_,
               _down_, _down_!

the line called after her, and her mouth trembled with excitement. She
could just hear the other line:

     Oh, _here's_ to Ninety-_green_,
     She's the _finest_ ever _seen_!

and then the door slammed and she was upstairs on the big empty floor.
A member of the decorating committee nodded at her from the gallery.
"Pretty, isn't it?" she called down.

"Beautiful!" said Theodora, earnestly. One half of the gallery--her
half--was all trimmed with yellow and purple. Great yellow
chrysanthemums flowered on every pillar, and enormous purple shields
with yellow numerals lined the wall. Crossed banners and flags filled
in the intervals, and from the middle beam depended a great purple
butterfly with yellow wings, flapping defiance at a red and green
insect of indistinguishable species that decorated the other side. A
bevy of ushers in white duck, with _boutonnieres_ of English violets
or single American beauties, took their places and began to pin on
crepe paper sunbonnets of yellow or green, chattering and watching
the clock. A tall senior, with a red silk waist and a green scarf
across her breast, was arranging a box near the centre of the
sophomore side and practising maintaining her balance on it while she
waved a red baton. She was the leader of the Glee Club, and she would
lead the sophomore songs. Theodora heard a confused scuffle on the
stairs, and in a few seconds the galleries were crowded with the
rivers of color that poured from the entrance doors. It seemed that
they were full now, but she knew that twice as many more would crowd
in. She walked quickly to the room at the end of the hall and opened
the door. Beneath and all around her was the hum and rumble of
countless feet and voices, but in the room all was still. The Subs
lounged in the window-seats and tried to act as if it wasn't likely to
be any affair of theirs: one little yellow-haired girl confided
flippantly to her neighbor that she'd "only accepted the position so
as to be able to sit on the platform and be sure of a good place." The
Team were sitting on the floor staring at their captain, who was
talking earnestly in a low voice--giving directions apparently. The
juniors who coached them opened the door and grinned cheerfully. They
attached great purple streamers to their shirt-waists, and addressed
themselves to the freshmen generally.

"Your songs are great! That 'Alabama <DW53>' one was awfully good! You
make twice the noise that they do!"

The Team brightened up. "I think they're pretty good," the captain
said, with an attempt at a conversational tone. "Er--when do we
begin?"

"The Subs can go out now," said one of the coaches, opening the door
importantly. "Now, girls, remember not to wear yourselves out with
kicking and screaming. You're right under the President, and he'll
have a fit if you kick against the platform. Miss Kassan says that
this _must_ be a quiet game! She _will not_ have that howling! It's
her particular request, she says. Now, go on. And if anything happens
to Grace, Julia Wilson takes her place, _and look out for Alison
Greer_--she pounds awfully. Keep as still as you can!"

They trotted out and ranged themselves on the platform, and when
Theodora got to the point of lifting her eyes from the floor to gaze
down at the sophomore Subs across the hall in front of another
audience, the freshmen were off in another song. To her excited eyes
there were thousands of them, brilliant in purple and yellow, and
shouting to be heard of her parents in Pennsylvania. A junior in
yellow led them with a great purple stick, and they chanted, to a
splendid march tune that made even the members of the Faculty keep
time on the platform, their hymn to victory.

     _Hurrah!_ _hurrah!_ the _yellow_ is on _top_!
     _Hurrah!_ _hurrah!_ the _purple_ cannot _drop_!
     _We_ are Ninety-_yellow_ and our _fame_ shall never _stop_,
     _'Rah_, _'rah_, _'rah_, for the _freshmen_!

They sang so well and so loud and strong, shouting out the words so
plainly and keeping such splendid time, that as the verse and chorus
died away audience and sophomores alike clapped them vigorously, much
to their delight and pride. Theodora looked up for the first time and
