Grace Harlowes Plebe Year at High School | Page 5

friends.
Mrs. Harlowe smiled. In spite of Grace's sixteen years she was still her
little girl.
There was another click at the gate and Mrs. Harlowe saw through the
parlor window a little, dark figure, pathetically plain in its shabby coat
and hat.
"Poor little soul," thought the good woman. "How I wish I could put
her into one of Grace's muslins, but, of course, I couldn't think of
offering to do such a thing."
"Mother," said Grace some minutes later, when the girls had laid aside
their wraps and descended into the drawing room, "this is Anne Pierson,
our new friend."
Anne Pierson, small and shrinking, was dressed in a queer,
old-fashioned black silk that had evidently been taken up and made
short for the occasion. Mrs. Harlowe's heart was touched to the quick
and she bent and kissed the young girl gently.
"How do you do, my dear?" she said kindly. "I am always glad to meet
Grace's friends, and you are most welcome."
Anne was too frightened almost to speak. This was the first party she
had ever attended, and the beautiful room, the girls in their light, pretty
dresses, the bowls of flowers and the cheery firelight nearly stupefied
her.
Mrs. Harlowe disappeared into the little conservatory off the dining

room, returning in a moment with two big red roses which she pinned
to Anne's dress.
"These red roses have been waiting for you all morning," she said, "and
they're just in their prime now."
More guests began to arrive, and soon the room was full of young girls
talking gayly together in groups or walking about, their arms around
each other's waists after the manner of fifteen and sixteen.
Grace had seated Anne at the dining room table behind a large cut glass
bowl which almost hid her small figure. Grace knew from experience
that this would be the most popular spot in the room, and she cautioned
many of her friends to be kind to the timid little stranger. She knew
also that giving Anne something to keep her occupied would relieve
her embarrassment. Anne conscientiously filled and refilled the glasses,
and in the intervals answered the questions put to her; but never asked
any herself.
Miriam Nesbit came in late with her two most intimate friends. She
wore a resplendent dress of old rose crepe and a big black hat. Anne
forgot her resentment when she caught sight of the vision and was lost
in admiration. But she was brought sharply to her senses by a rude,
sneering laugh from the ill-bred girl, who was staring insolently at the
old black silk gown.
Anne flushed and hung her head.
"I am glad Mrs. Harlowe gave me the flowers," she thought. "They
hide it a little, I think."
Meantime there was the bustle of a new and important arrival. Grace
and her mother ushered in a charming little old lady and seated her in
the place of honor, a big leather chair between the windows. She wore a
gray silk dress and a lavender bonnet daintily trimmed in lace and
white ostrich tips.
"Girls," said Grace, as a hush fell over the room, "there is no need for

me to introduce any of you to Mrs. Gray, who is the sponsor for the
freshman class."
There was a buzz of laughter and conversation again, and through the
double doors Anne caught sight of the little old lady, talking gayly to
her subjects, seated, like a diminutive queen, on a large throne.
"Why is she the sponsor of the class?" Anne asked of Jessica, who was
hovering near by.
"Oh, have you never heard?" returned Jessica. "Mrs. Gray's daughter
died during her freshman year at High School, long ago, and ever since
then, Mrs. Gray has offered a prize of twenty-five dollars for the girl
who makes the highest average in her examinations at the end of the
freshman year. She was made sponsor of the freshman class about ten
years ago, so each year, soon after school opens, some one of the
freshmen gives a tea and invites her to meet the new girls. You must
come in and be introduced, too, as soon as you are through here."
"A prize of twenty-five dollars," repeated Anne. "How I wish I might
win it!"
"It's even more than that," said Jessica. "For a perfect examination she
offers one hundred dollars. But, needless to say, no one has ever won
the hundred. It is considered impossible to pass a perfect examination
in every subject."
"One hundred dollars!" exclaimed Anne. "Oh, if I only could!"
"Well, you may win the twenty-five dollars, anyway, Anne," said
Jessica. "I suppose the one hundred dollar prize is beyond the reach of
human beings."
"And now, young ladies," Mrs. Gray was saying, smiling