CHAPTER XVII.

THE MISSING WORDS IN THE MOTTO.

How the girls of Lakeview Suite were working at their lessons these winter days! Nor were they the only ones. Eloise came in one day from a long practice on piano and said as she threw herself wearily into a chair, “I think we left out the most important word in our motto.”

“Which motto?” asked Hilary, “Psyche Club?”

“Yes.”

“‘Fides, Amor, Immortalitas.’ What would you put in, Madam President?”

“Didn’t we include ‘effort,’ before Psyche attained Olympus?”

“We did.”

“Then why not ‘Labor,’ just before Immortalitas? Faith, love, _work_, immortality.”

“You’re right, Eloise,” said Cathalina with approval. “You mean, I suppose, that we are all working hard and ought to have something in the motto to express it.”

“_You_ have the idea.”

“And I’m one of the workers this year. Here I am working my head off, in the language of the poet, and yet Hilary will carry off the honors at Commencement time! Hilary,”—Cathalina laid a hand on Hilary’s knee and bent forward to look up into her face—“do you want ’em all?”

“No, worthy club sister, and if I did, do you suppose for a minute that I could _get_ ’em all?”

Cathalina gave a little laugh and settled back in her chair. “Ah, but Hilary’s been in the race from the start, and I only got in this year, so to speak.”

“I’m no artist, Cathalina, for one thing,” reminded Hilary. “Who made money on designs for pins?”

“That was an accident, luck.”

“That was genius wedded to labor,” corrected Hilary. “And who can talk French as well as the French teacher?”

“Cathalina!” exclaimed Lilian, Betty and Eloise in chorus.

“Don’t get discouraged so easily, Cathalina,” said Lilian. “I’m sure that Hilary will get a big prize in scholarship and other things, but even I who sit in the shadow of her greatness, as it were, am going to try for a literary prize or two,—O, Hilary, you, don’t mind, do you?” for Lilian thought that Hilary looked hurt.

“We’re proud of you, Hilary, not jealous,” said Eloise. “Now Lil and I nearly come to blows over who has the most,—more,—beautiful voice. If Madame puts Lilian on the big Spring Recital and doesn’t put me, I shall have a spasm or something. Really, I _mean_ it.”

“How you do rattle on,” said Hilary, who had had one startled moment when she thought Lilian was in earnest.

“Yes,” said Lilian in reply to Eloise, “if Madame should show so much preference and put Eloise on and leave me off, I’d know that she thought Eloise could sing and I couldn’t. However, I do think that Eloise is exaggerating a little when she speaks of ‘blows.’”

“Perhaps so,” admitted Eloise, “but I will say that when it comes to piano I shall not be jealous of anybody. If my beloved teacher will only leave me off the program I shall be happy, but I can see that this ‘beautiful little study’ that I am working on and have been all year is aimed at the Spring Recital!”

“They have to have somebody,” remarked Hilary.

“Now, Hilary! The most unkindest cut of all!”

“I have to get even on general principles.”

“You have given me a most unhappy thought, Eloise,” said Lilian, “what if my violin teacher should make me play ‘The Violet’!”

“What is that?” asked Eloise.

“O, it is a simple little thing for beginners. I am working on ‘Simple Aveu’ now and the professor is in despair. Honestly, girls, if I did not like violin so much I’d give it up. He has such agonies over my bowing and fingering and if I do not get the tone,—the sparks fly. I don’t blame him for that, though. I nearly perish myself when any one is off pitch in singing or violin. I know better than to make some of the mistakes I do, but when he has to show me I get confused, and he hasn’t a bit of patience. I suppose that is the sign of a great artist.”

“Indeed it isn’t,” said Hilary, “not to have patience, but I suppose it is hard to teach.”

“Patty West has patience,” said Betty. “She takes music all the time, too, doesn’t she?”

“I think so, one thing or another. I should think she would be taking chemistry, or botany or something with Dr. Norris this year.”

“She’s had all the easy things that we take, of course, but maybe she can get out on the field trips with us this spring in bird study.”

Cathalina’s ambition had stirred early in the year when she found that there was a possibility of her being graduated from the Academy with the other girls. And having set to work on making up some necessary lines of study she became interested in doing it well.

Lilian was trying for one of the “Van Buskirk” prizes, offered this year by Cathalina’s father. One was for the best original poem; another, for the best short story; another, for the best essay, and a fourth for the best bird list, with dates and descriptions. Second prizes also were to be awarded. Lilian was writing “yards of poetry,” as she said.

Scholarship prizes were always offered by the school, with some special prizes in the different departments, as in the English, French, Oratory, Science and Music departments. These prizes were offered both to collegiates and academy pupils, but separately.

“I want to call a meeting of the club,” said Eloise. “We haven’t done a thing about Dorothy and Jane and I want to find out whether the girls all want to take any more into it. How about pins, Cathalina?”

“I can get those at a moderate price.”

“Another thing, do we want to take in any of the younger girls for Isabel and Avalon. There are Virginia and Olivia, you know. Isabel and Virginia are together so much, and Avalon and Olivia.”

Each girl hesitated to be the first to speak.

“What do you think, Hilary?”

“I feel this way about it. Isabel and Avalon are satisfied to be with us. If we take in the other two it may make two groups of us. It seems to me that the younger girls might wait till later, till next year any way. About the two others, at first I thought I did not want to make any change at all. We want this to be a group of intimate friends. But on second thought I changed my mind. Dorothy and Jane are strong girls and we do not know surely that they will be back next year, so I’m for taking them in if they’ll come.”

“That is what Pauline and Juliet think. Helen did not know, but said that she was willing to do what the other girls wanted. It has to be unanimous, you know. Come to our suite, then, either before or after dinner, which?”

“After, if you don’t mind,” said Hilary, “before we begin anything. I have to finish my French composition now and do a little other work, or I’ll not be able to get through tomorrow. Every minute of study hours tonight is planned for. But after dinner we’ll be care-free for a little while.”

The other girls indicating their approval, Eloise fixed the time as suggested. “I’ll go to see Isabel and Avalon now,” said she.

In due time, a circle of smiling faces surrounded Eloise, who called the meeting to order.

“We have talked this matter over pretty well among us,” said Eloise, after stating why she called them together. “Will somebody make a motion?”

“I move,” said Hilary, “that we make Dorothy Appleton and Jane Mills members of the club and so notify them. Are there any remarks?”

“We’ll have to have an initiation, won’t we?” said Isabel, in happy anticipation of such an event. No other remarks forthcoming, the motion was put and carried unanimously.

“Nobody’s said a word to the girls,” said Lilian. “Who’ll ask them?”

The girls all thought a moment. No one wanted to take the responsibility.

“You do it, Lilian,” suggested Hilary. “You have tact, and you were a fellow victim at the time of the wreck.”

“You wouldn’t have to persuade anybody to belong, in my opinion,” said Avalon. “Who wouldn’t want to?”

“Go on, Lilian,” said Isabel. “Let’s all wait here till we find out. I’ll go and make some fudge. Who has any sugar and butter and chocolate?”

The girls laughed at that, but managed to hunt up the desired material, while Lilian went to hunt up the two girls who had just been elected. Dorothy she found in a group of girls who were listening to some rollicking piano music in the parlors, but Jane was not in sight. Lilian beckoned to Dorothy, who detached herself and joined her.

“Come take a stroll in the halls with me, Dorothy, while I ask you something,” said Lilian. “Do you know where Jane is?”

“No; around with some of the girls somewhere.”

“Perhaps we’ll run across her. I want to tell you both the same thing, but I can tell you now. Here’s a good place to sit down in this alcove. You know our little club, Dorothy, with the butterfly pins?”

“Yes, those lovely little pins!”

“You know the girls pretty well that wear them, too.”

“Yes.”

“We’ve been hoping, Dorothy, that you would like to wear one, too, and join us, you and Jane.”

“That would be very nice, Lilian,” replied Dorothy slowly. “Do you mean that I am invited to join?”

“Not only invited, but urged!” Lilian was disappointed at Dorothy’s hesitation, which was unlike her, but just then she caught sight of Jane and ran to call her, leaving Dorothy to think the matter over. As they walked toward Dorothy she explained her errand to Jane. Jane looked brighter and more pleased than Dorothy, but shook her head. “I’m afraid we can’t,” she said. Lilian went on to explain a little.

“You know that it is only a club of rather intimate friends, no dues, only the expense of the pins, and Cathalina gets special rates on them, and we meet when we feel like it. We girls like you two so much that we thought we would like to have you with us. But if you do not _want_ to go into it, it wouldn’t be best.”

Dorothy looked at Jane. “Now, Lilian,” said she, “it is very embarrassing to refuse an invitation like this. I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate your wanting us. I didn’t dream of your doing it, or—well, I don’t see how I’m going to explain, do you, Jane?”

“You see, Dorothy is president of the class,—”

“You can’t explain without telling what we ought not,” interrupted Dorothy. “Just tell the girls, Lilian, if this invitation is official, that we appreciate it beyond words, but can’t.”

“And we are very sorry, indeed,” replied Lilian. “I am sure that they all will be very much disappointed.” With smiles and a wave of the hand she left them and went slowly upstairs, wondering.

“Have a piece of hot fudge, Lilian,” called Isabel, as she entered the room. “How soon do we initiate?”

“Not at all!”

“What? Why Lilian!”

“What was the trouble?”

“_Dorothy_ wouldn’t?” This was Betty.

“Listen, girls, and I’ll give you the whole conversation, and then you can perhaps tell _me_ what is the matter, for of course something is.”

“I consider that they should have explained,” said Eloise.

“They were taken by surprise, though. For pity’s sake let’s not let them know that we feel turned down!”

“Being ‘president of the class’ means something. They are under some pledge to the crowd that doesn’t like some of us.”

“I believe you’re right, Betty,” said Lilian. “But don’t ask me to invite any more members!”

“We are very nice just as we are,” remarked Isabel. “Let’s stay ten of us.”

“I’ll not order any more pins _yet_,” said Cathalina. “But I am surprised. Dorothy has been so lovely and so has Jane, and we have seen so much of them lately.”

“I think that the best way is to let it go and treat them the same as ever, and maybe they will tell us some time, unless it really is because they do not like us, and I can’t believe that.”

“You are right, Hilary,” said Eloise. “You think so too, Lilian?”

“Yes. Please let me have another piece of fudge, Isabel.”