A College Girl by Mrs George de Horne Vaizey (reading in the dark .TXT) đ
- Author: Mrs George de Horne Vaizey
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The next articles offered for sale were framed pictures of various sizes which had evidently not been considered worth the trouble of removing. Water-colour sketches by âprentice hands, faded photographs, or pretty-pretty prints evidently torn from the pages of magazines. The auctioneer exerted all the blandishments to induce the Freshers to purchase these masterpieces, and deplored their scant response with pathetic reproaches.
âNo bids for this tasty little picture? Ladies, ladies, this is a great mistake! In the midst of your arduous brain toil, what could be more soothing and refreshing than to gaze upon this charming pastoral scene? This azure earth, this verdant sky, this lovely maid who combined in her person all the simpering charms of youth, and never, for one misguided moment, troubled her ochre head over the acquirement of that higher knowledge which, as we all know, is the proud prerogative of man! What price shall I say for âThe Maidenâs Dreamâ? No bids! Put it down if you please, Joshua. We have no art collectors with us to-night. Let me have the Botticelli for a change.â
The clerk in blue silk handed up another picture in a rickety Oxford frame, at which the auctioneer gazed rapturously for several moments before turning it towards her audience.
âNumber Six on the catalogue. Genuine photograph of a Botticelli from the collection of Miss Eva Dalgleish. Attention, Freshers, if you please! This is an item of serious importance. The presence of a Botticelli bestows at once the air of culture and refinement without which no study is worthy of the name. A genuine photograph of a Botticelli, purchased by the owner in the Italian city of Florence, and borne home by her own fair hands, as the crack across the corner will give proof. In an Oxford frameâa compliment to our sister Universityâglazed and complete, with hanging loops and fragment of wire. What offers for the Botticelli? Any Fresher who wishes to prove herself endowed with refined and artisticâOne shilling? Thank you, madam. And sixpence! One and nine. One and nine for this genuine Botticelli. Ladies, ladies, this is a sad day for Newnham. And nineâand nine. Going. Goingâgone!â
It was Hannah who had testified to her own artistic qualities by purchasing this photograph. She tucked it proudly under her arm, and turned an envious eye on a brass flower-pot which was now engaging the auctioneerâs attention. A simultaneous movement of the audience showed that this was an article on which many hopes had been set, and bidding promised to be brisk.
âNow, ladies, we come to one of the principal events of the evening, the bidding for this very rich and magnificent brass, hand-beaten, richly-chased, Oriental, ornamental flower-pot. We have several flower-pots in our catalogue, but none to be compared for one moment to the very superior article which you now see before you. It is safe to say that no student, even in her third year, can boast of a flower-pot to equal this lot in either quality or design. The possession of it will in itself ensure fame for its fortunate owner. Let me have a handsome bid, if you please, ladies, to start this valuable article. Half a crown!!! A lady, whose ignorance we can only deplore, offers me half a crown for a genuine antique brass! I am thankful that in such a large and enlightened audience such an error is not likely to be repeated. Three shillings. Thank you, madam. And six. Four shillingsâfour shillings. Freshers who neglect to take advantage of this opportunity will be compelled to content themselves with one of these common china articles to my left. A flowerpot is a necessary article of furniture without which no room is complete. What is home without an aspidistra? You laugh, ladies, but you can find no answer to that question. And six! Five shillings! The raw material for this masterpiece must have cost many times this sum. Fiveâfiveâno advance on five. The lady in green, Joshua. Take the ladyâs address!â
The auctioneer put up her hand to her head and patted the rose-coloured ribbon into place. Inspired by the laughing appreciation of her sallies, her cheeks had flushed to the same bright shade, and with her sparkling eyes and alert, graceful movements she made a delightful and attractive figure, at which the Freshers stared in undisguised delight.
âI adore her!â whispered Darsie in her friendâs ear.
âDecent sort!â croaked Hannah the undemonstrative, and then by a common impulse their glance passed on to rest on Helen Rossâs set, supercilious face.
âI loathe her,â came the second whisper.
âMean thingâjealousy!â croaked Hannah once more, and turned her attention to the business in hand.
After the china flower-pots had been disposed of, a trio of basket-chairs gave an impetus to the bidding, as the truth of the auctioneerâs words went home to every heart.
ââThree luxurious basket-chairs, cushioned complete in handsome cretonne, stuffed pure wool. Conditionâas new.â Ladies, in these basket-chairs you see not only elegant articles of furniture, but a solution of the dilemma which dogs every owner of a one-comfortable-chair study. One question haunts her waking and sleeping hours; one problem embitters the most social occasionsââShall I be comfortable or polite?â To this question, in this college of Newnham, there can, ladies, be but one replyâand the wretched hostess sits on the coal-box and gives her visitor the chair. After long hours of mental toil, after the physical strain of the hockey-field, a quiet hour is vouchsafed beside her own fireside, with the companionship of a beloved friend to soothe and cheer, and that hour, ladiesâthat precious hourâI say it with emotion almost too strong for wordsâthat stolen hour of peace and rest must needs be passedâon the coal-box! Ladies, I need say no more. The remedy is in your own hands.â
So on, and so on. After the chairs came curtains; after the curtains, bookcases, ornaments, and books. The auction flowed on, punctuated by explosions of laughter, until the last item on the âcatalogueâ was reached, and the auctioneer was crimson with exhaustion.
Darsie and Hannah had amassed between them quite a stock of furnishings. A screen apiece, chairs, Oriental window-curtains in stripes of contrasting colours warm and comfortable to look upon, flower-pots, and odd pictures and ornaments. One felt a proprietor, indeed, as one looked over the spoils, and the inroads into capital had been agreeably small. Darsie was folding up her damaged âspreadâ when a voice spoke in her ear, and with a little jump of the heart she looked up to find Margaret France standing by her side.
âHow do you do? I must thank you for your patronage. You chipped in nobly. Hope youâll like âem, when youâve got âem. Just up, arenât you? Whatâs your shop?â
For a moment Darsie stared blankly, then a flash of intuition revealed the meaning of the word.
âModern languages.â
âGood! Soâm I. And your friend?â
âMathematics.â
âHumph! Well, good luck! Iâm off to bed. We shall meet on the Rialto!â
She smiled, nodded, and was gone. With a sudden realisation of their own fatigue the Freshers turned to follow her example. Helen Ross joined them on their way along the corridors, and Darsie could not resist expressing her appreciation of the auctioneerâs wit.
âShe was delicious. I have enjoyed it. She is amusing and clever.â
âThink so?â said Helen coolly. âReally? Glad you were pleased. Itâs usually far better than that!â
With a curt good-night she turned into her own room, and the two friends made haste to follow her example.
The banked-up fires burned warm and red; the scattered oddments had been hidden from sight in the âcoffinâsâ rapacious maw; photographs and knick-knacks gave a homy look to the rooms which had looked so bare and bleak twenty-four hours before. The Freshers tumbled into bed and fell happily asleep.
During the first month at Newnham Darsie and Hannah fell gradually and happily into the routine of college life. They grew to recognise their companions by name, and to place them according to their several âshopsâ; they entertained cocoa parties in their rooms; picked up slang terms, and talked condescendingly of âtowneesâ; they paid up subscriptions to âHall,â âGames,â âFlowers,â and âFicâ; slept, played, and laughed and talked, and, above all, worked, with heart and mind, and with every day that passed were more convinced that to be a student at Cambridge was the most glorious fate that any girl could desire.
A week after the beginning of term Helen Ross, the fortunate possessor of a double room, gave a tea-party, with one of the younger Dons as chaperon, to which Dan Vernon and a companion were invited. Ostensibly the party was given in Hannahâs honour, but to her astonishment and dismay Hannahâs friend was not favoured with an invitation, and felt her first real twinge of loneliness in the knowledge that two old friends were making merry together but a few yards away, while she sat solitary and alone. What she had done to incur Helen Rossâs dislike Darsie could not imagine, and, fortunately for herself, she was too large-hearted to suspect that it arose simply from an unattractive girlâs jealousy of one whom all had combined to love and admire. Be that as it may, Darsie was left out of the tea-party, and her subsequent cross-questionings of Hannah were far from comforting.
âHad a good time?â
âTop hole.â
âNice people there?â
âTopping.â
âGood cakes?â
âScrum!â
âDan ask for me?â
âNo.â
âThen he ought to have done!â Darsie told herself indignantly, and her thoughts flew off to Ralph Percival, wondering when she would see him next, and recalling with pleasure his promise to âsee her through.â
The approach of the Freshersâ hockey match banished less important topics, for Hannah was on edge with anxiety to be at her best, and disport herself sufficiently well to be included in after-team practices, while Darsie was scarcely less eager on her behalf.
When the afternoon arrived and the match began, the second and third year girls crowded to look on, while the Captain stood apart surrounded by a few satellites from the Committee, as truly the monarch of all she surveyed as any king who ever graced a throne. The thoughts of each Fresher turned with an anguish of appeal towards this figure; a smile on her face raised them to the seventh heaven; a frown laid them in the dust! Extraordinary to think that two short years ago this oracle had been a Fresher like themselves! Inconceivable to imagine that in two years to come they themselves might occupy that same magnificent altitude!
The eyes of the Oracle fell upon Hannah and approved what she saw, and henceforth Hannah took part in team practices, and lorded it over Darsie, who in her turn affected a growing antagonism to the game.
âYou can have too much of a good thingâeven of gamesâand I seem to have eaten hockey every meal since I arrived!â she announced impatiently; and in truth, since an unwritten law forbade the discussion of âshopâ at table, the conversation was largely limited to dissertations on this the most popular of games.
On Sundays the two girls went together to Kingâs College Chapel and gazed with admiration at the vaulted stone roof, with its marvellous fan tracery; at its towering stained-glass windows, and the screen bearing the monogram of Anne Boleyn; at the delicate carving of the stalls. It was so wonderfully different from the dreary town edifice in which they had been accustomed to worship, with its painted walls, heavy gallery, and wheezy organ played by an indifferent musicianâso wonderfully, gloriously different that Darsie felt a pricking at the back of her eyes as though she were ready to cry for sheer pleasure and admiration. The music and the sermon seemed alike perfect, and Darsie ardently followed each stage of the service.
Some people are inclined to grow frivolous and forgetful when the world goes well with them and the desire of their hearts is accomplished; others are filled with a passion of gratitude and thanksgiving, and Darsie Garnett belonged to the latter
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