College stories; Women college students -- Juvenile fiction
There was first a grand march to be followed by dancing until ten
o'clock, when the unmasking was to take place and light refreshments
served. Gradually, little groups of girls thought they recognized each
other and surmised the identity of certain others. Jean and Elizabeth
and Sallie Lawrence were resting after a strenuous Virginia Reel. "Who
is that couple who have danced together all the evening, the tall monk
and the demure sister of charity? Probably she thinks it's her duty to
confess to him for her worldly dissipation. The sister of charity looks
like Marjorie Remington, but who can the monk be? Marjorie doesn't
generally remain so faithful to one partner," said Sallie.
"It is Marjorie," said Jean; "I can tell her walk anywhere and I'm sure
those are her pumps. She told me she bought them in Detroit this last
vacation. I'm sure I can't imagine who her partner is. The tallest girl
I know is Mary Stickney. It must be she, but isn't it queer Marjorie
should care to dance so often with her? Probably she thinks it's more
picturesque to dance with a monk. I remember asking Mary this afternoon
if she was going to-night and she said she didn't believe so, but if
she did she'd have to get up something very simple at the last moment.
That monk's costume is surely the simplest one here."
After several of the girls had asked the charming sister of charity
to dance and she had shaken her pretty head and persisted in dancing
with the monk, all the others began to wonder a bit and talk among
themselves. "Who is the monk?" was on everybody's tongue, and it was
pretty generally conceded to be Mary Stickney.
Just before ten the monk and his fair partner slowly left the main
room for a lemonade table at the end of the hall. Most of the others
were dancing, but Jean, very tired with the excitement of the evening,
had slipped alone into a little cozy corner just beyond the lemonade
table. She did not intend to watch or to listen, but she could not
help herself. When the two dancers were left to themselves, she heard
Marjorie Remington say, "Hasn't it been splendid, Jack? Not a soul ever
would suspect, for you certainly took every precaution. But I think
you'd better go now, for it's almost time to unmask. Take off your
robe and mask in the outer hall and you'll find your cap and coat and
shoes in my suit-case there in the right-hand corner. You'll not meet
any one, for everybody in the house is at the dance and it's too late
for outsiders to be coming in. Still, be cautious. Let me know how you
get back to Cambridge, and come out as soon as you can. Good night,
dear. Don't let anything happen to you." And the black-robed priest
disappeared from view and the demure little sister of charity sat down
a few minutes in the dimly-lighted hall to rest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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