Chapter IV: The Initiation

"WHAT do you suppose they will do to us?" said Janet on the day when she and Edna expected to be initiated into their fraternity.

"I'm sure I don't know," returned Edna plaintively. "I hope it won't be very awful. Fay Wingate scared me nearly to death with her vague little hints and insinuations. I never know when to believe her."

Janet laughed. "What hundreds of other girls have stood, I think we can stand. None of the others seem to have been fatally injured by the process. What time did Rosalie and Fay tell us to be ready?"

"Before four," answered Edna nervously looking at her watch. "It is ten minutes before four now. I wish the bothersome thing was over, or I wish I had never promised to join. I suppose it is too late to back out now."

"For pity's sake, Ted, don't be such a baby," said Janet disgustedly. "Do brace up and act as if you weren't scared, even if you are. I wouldn't have any one suspect I was afraid for anything. Here they come. Do pull up your features and smile."

And by the time Edna could make some attempt at carrying a less lugubrious countenance, there was a knock at the door.

"Smile, girl, smile," said Janet fiercely, "though the Philistines be upon thee."

Edna gave a ghastly grin as Janet opened the door to admit Rosalie and Fay.

"Shall we blindfold them here?" asked Fay.

"I don't think there is any need to do that," returned Rosalie. "Are you ready, girls?"

"Yes," said Janet firmly.

"Yes," echoed Edna weakly.

"Come on, then," said Rosalie. She led the way to the street, where stood the Burdetts' carriage with the footman holding open the door.

Before leading the way down the steps, Rosalie paused, and whipped out a couple of silk handkerchiefs, with which she bound the eyes of both Janet and Edna. "You are not to speak to each other nor to any one else until you are spoken to, and then only in answer to direct questions," she charged them. "When you arrive at your destination, the footman will see that you are safely conducted indoors. There you are to wait till some one comes to speak to you and tell you what to do next."

Half laughing, half scared, the girls gropingly made their way into the carriage.

"You know where to go, James," said Fay to the coachman.

"Yes, miss," replied the man, touching his hat. Then the door slammed and they were driven away to the unknown.

After what seemed rather a long drive, the carriage stopped, and the door of it was opened by the footman, who said, "I will help you out, ladies."

He carefully guided first Janet then Edna up a long flight of steps, rang the bell and stood waiting for it to be answered.

"It's all right," they heard him say as some one opened to them. Then they were conducted across a tiled floor to a soft carpet and were made conscious of the odor of roses and the hush of a warm curtained room.

It was all very mysterious, but they imagined they must be in some private house. They heard the carriage roll away, and each clutched the other who sat beside her on a sofa. It was some comfort to feel the presence of a companion in misery.

Presently they heard the murmur of voices in what seemed a room beyond, then some one came forward.

"Well, young ladies," a voice addressed them, "was it Mrs. or Miss Austin you wished to see?"

"I—we—don't know," replied Janet helplessly.

"Humph!" There was a silence following the ejaculation. Evidently their interlocutor was puzzled. "I think, perhaps," he said hesitatingly, "you have made a mistake. No doubt you were going to Dr. Armitage for treatment. He lives on this same street a block further down."

No answer.

"A most remarkable state of things," said the gentleman. And they heard him move briskly away. His heavy tread indicated that he was stout, his voice that he was elderly. He must have been rather perturbed, for he called hastily: "Solomon, Solomon, go call Mr. Van. Tell him to come at once."

It certainly was a strange situation, and the girls began to wonder what the outcome would be. They sat there in the still perfumed room, waiting the next development, which came presently.

"Most remarkable," they heard the old gentleman repeating as he went out to meet some one whose heels clicked upon the marble tiling of the hall. "Do come in, Van, and see what you make of it," they could hear him say.

Janet felt like giggling, but instead she squeezed Edna's arm. She felt almost certain that they were being regarded by a pair of strange men.

"Would you mind telling us," said a well-modulated and manly voice, "just whom you wish to see?"

"We'd like to, but I'm afraid we can't," answered Janet.

"Then can you tell me why you are here?"

"That's something that we are dying to find out," returned Janet. "We hoped you could tell us."

"Insane, evidently insane," said the throaty voice of the elderly man. "Van, you'd better call in an officer or a doctor or some one."

"Wait a minute," said the younger man. "They are apparently willing to answer questions and are very quiet. We'll risk it a little further."

"You probably know that you are in the house of Mr. and Mrs. Austin, don't you?" said the old gentleman.

"We don't know where we are," Edna told them.

"How did you get here?"

"In a carriage," Janet replied.

"Whose?" asked the young man.

"Miss Becky Burdett's."

"Ah-h?" There was satisfaction in the tones. "We all know Miss Becky, and—why yes, I begin to see daylight. Are you residents of the city?"

"No."

"Are you visiting Miss Becky?"

"No."

"Then perhaps she sent her carriage to take you to the oculist's. Are you from the Blind Asylum?"

Edna tittered and Janet laughed outright.

"No, we are not from there," replied the latter.

The young man regarded them with a puzzled look on his face which it would have amused them to see. There was some great mystery here, and his curiosity was aroused to such a pitch that he was determined to find out why these two well-dressed, nice looking girls should be in such an awkward position. He meditated upon the subject, then he suddenly remembered that Becky was a college girl, and his next leading question was, "Are you attending college?"

"Yes," the answer came promptly.

"And do you happen to be fraternity girls?" the question followed quickly.

Janet laughed. "Not quite yet," she answered.

The young man laughed too. "Just trot back to your paper, dad," he said. "It's all right, I'll bet a sixpence. I can manage this. My mother and sister have not come in yet," he addressed himself again to the girls, "or I am sure they would be delighted to receive any of Miss Becky's friends. As it is, I am inclined to think that there has been some mistake. Now, if you will allow me, I will call a carriage and conduct you to No. 136 East. This is No. 136 West, and I think it is very likely that the coachman made the mistake. If we find that you are not expected at this number East, I will see you safely to your home. Does the plan meet with your approval?"

"Entirely," said Janet. She wished that she might thank him, but she was pledged to answer only a direct question.

"You couldn't take off those bandages," said the young man. No reply.

"Could you be persuaded to take off those bandages?" he repeated, quick to understand the situation.

"No, we mustn't," Edna told him.

"Very well, I will not insist. Be perfectly easy, young ladies; I'll call the carriage at once, and will stop to explain your predicament to my father who is much concerned. I see he is watching us instead of reading his paper, and if you knew him, you would understand what that means."

Janet and Edna were burning to speak to each other, but kept strictly to the letter of their instructions, and would only giggle and squeeze each other's hands. The situation had proved more exciting than they had expected, and whatever the next act might be, this first certainly possessed the elements of an adventure. They waited tranquilly till the young man returned with the information that the carriage was in waiting, and if they were ready, he would be glad to escort them to their possible destination.

"If we are ready!" said Janet to herself, shaking with laughter. Her mirth was of the contagious kind, and the young man who established himself on the opposite seat of the carriage joined in.

"There's nothing like seeing the humorous side of a situation," he said. "I think this is a great lark. You see, I am a college man myself, and can appreciate these irregularities and complications. I shall have some fun with Miss Becky about this."

Janet immediately became grave. They had in no way violated the confidence reposed in them, but if this were to become commonly known; if the college boys were to get hold of it, Becky and her friends might blame the innocent causes of it.

The young man understood her embarrassment for he said gently: "Perhaps you would rather I didn't say anything about it. Would you rather I didn't?"

"Oh, yes, we would," returned Janet eagerly.

It was but a few minutes' drive to No. 136 East. At the window of the house stood the anxious Rosalie Trent who dashed to the door as soon as the carriage stopped. She met Mr. Austin coming up the steps, and stopped short in her surprise. "Mr. Austin," she exclaimed, "I—I thought—"

"You thought I was some one else? Are you looking for two wandering innocents, blindfolded and ignorant of where they were expected to go? If you are, I can assure you they are quite safe."

"Oh, where did you find them?" cried Rosalie. "They should have been here an hour ago, and we have been worried to death about them. Are they there?" She peered out at the carriage.

"They are there. Shall I bring them in? I can vouch for their being the most heroically non-committal young persons I ever had the fortune to meet. By the way, Miss Trent, who is the taller one with the dark hair?"

"I shall not tell you," said Rosalie, running down the steps.

"Don't you think I deserve to know?" said the young man following her.

"Sometime, maybe, but you wouldn't have the dear thing mortified by your knowledge at present, would you? Please don't talk of this, Mr. Austin."

"I promised the girl with the raven locks that I wouldn't," he said, "so you can trust me."

"Did she ask you not to?" said Rosalie.

"Not she. It was only by plying her with direct questions that we could get a word out of her. The old gentleman thought they were crazy, and was all for sending them to a lunatic asylum."

"Poor dears," murmured Rosalie, going swiftly to the carriage and opening the door. "I am so glad you've come, girls," she said, losing all attempt at being mysterious in her delight at seeing them safe. "We didn't know what had happened. Becky was just telephoning to inquire if the carriage had gone home and what the coachman had to report."

"Oh, may we speak to some one, just once?" asked Janet in eager, hurried tones.

"Why yes, under the circumstances you may," returned Rosalie. "I am sure it will be allowable. What did you want to say?"

"We must thank Mr. Austin," said Janet. "It would be dreadful not to when he has been so kind."

"Surely you must. I will answer for that," said Rosalie.

Then the three girls expressed their thanks as cordially as they could, and were assisted up the steps by their escort, the door closed behind them, and he drove away leaving them to face the mysteries of initiation.

When they emerged from their stay of three hours behind closed doors they were full-fledged frats. They were also something else, for they were able to pose as the heroines of an adventure. Not a girl in this inner circle but clamored for an account of their experiences while under the Austins' roof.

"What did you think of it?" asked Becky Burdett.

"We were surprised, of course," Janet acknowledged, "but then we expected to be surprised. We started out to meet surprises on the way, and we didn't know at first but that it was one of them. We thought it was all pre-arranged, and when Mr. Austin came in, we thought he belonged to the performers."

"Then when did you begin to suspect?"

"When he brought in his son and began to talk of sending us to a lunatic asylum."

The girls screamed with delight.

"But we calmed down when his son took the matter in hand. Oh, girls, but when he asked us if we were from the Blind Asylum, it was too much."

The girls broke out into a second roar of laughter.

"It is so funny," cried Fay rocking back and forth in glee. "Go on, Janet. What did you think we were up to?"

"We hadn't an idea. We couldn't believe you had enlisted your fathers and brothers in the cause, and we were puzzled to know why you sent us to a place where we were not expected, till Mr. Austin, (Van, his father called him), suggested that we had been left at the wrong house. He really was a second Sherlock Holmes in the way he ferreted out the truth."

"He is a college man himself, and knows the ways that are dark," Becky told them.

"Anyhow he is a gentleman," said Janet stoutly, "for he promised not to tell when I didn't even ask him not to."

"Couldn't he be a college man and a gentleman?" queried Fay.

"He might be," returned Janet doubtfully, to tease Fay who doted on the students of the neighboring university. "Oh, girls," she went on, "but we were good; we didn't ask a single question, neither did we speak to each other. That and one other thing were the hardest I ever had to do in all my life."

"What was the other thing?" asked Rosalie.

"Not to lift the bandage from my eyes to see what Mr. Van Austin looks like. I am paid up for all the untoward curiosity I ever showed in all my life, and for thousands of other things. To think of meeting a fascinating young man, and not being able to tell what he looks like, while he could only observe the tip of my nose and my mouth! It is tragic, absolutely tragic. You couldn't get up another situation like it if you were to try for a thousand years."

"We builded better than we knew," said Nell Deford. "Never mind, Janet, there are compensations. You and Teddy can assure yourselves that no other girls were ever initiated under just such circumstances."

"A poor consolation," sighed Janet. "For the rest of my life I shall be seeking a voice."

"Why must you do that?" said Fay. "When Becky and Rosalie both know him; nothing in the world would be easier than to bring about a meeting."

"Never!" cried Janet. "I hope he will never find out anything more about us, and all I want is merely to see him from a distance so I can wear his image in my heart."

"Indeed, then, I shall do better than that," spoke up Edna.

"What shall you do?" asked Janet, turning upon her. "If you get the better of me, Teddy Waite, I'll never forgive you. What are you going to do?"

"I'll tell you when I've done it," returned Teddy.

"If you don't, I'll drag it from you by slow torture," declared Janet. "Come along. I must get you to myself. The rest are ready to go. Yes, we'll be sure to come to the next frat meeting, Rosalie. Meantime, if Teddy does any dark and doubtful deed, you needn't expect to see her."

But at the end of three weeks, Edna confessed to her roommate that her best laid scheme had gone aglee, for though she had devised a plan by which she hoped to be able to catch a sight of the unknown Van Austin the plan had come to naught.

"For three mortal Sundays," she said plaintively, "I have started out early. The first I walked up and down that street till church time."

"Why, Teddy Waite."

"Yes, I did. I haunted the square where the Austins live; I really did."

"Well, what came of it?"

"The first Sunday, two ladies came out and went to church together."

"Why didn't you follow them to see where they went?"

"I did."

"And you found out?"

"Yes, they went to St. Stephen's."

"Well?"

"So the second Sunday, I went there."

"That was a bright move to make. Well, after that?"

"There were three persons in the pew: an elderly man—yes, I saw him," as Janet looked questioningly. "He looks exactly as we thought he did. Then there were his wife, a tall, fine-looking woman, and the daughter, about twenty-six or seven, I should think, nice looking and handsomely dressed; but I didn't go to that church to see them."

"Still it was some satisfaction," declared Janet. "I think I'll go there next Sunday. What about the third time?"

"Not a sign of any young man. I don't believe he goes to church."

"I'd hate to think that," said Janet. "Our hero would go, you know."

"Of course, but heroes don't always act as you would have them. I am going to give it up and trust to fate."

"If Becky thought we really wanted to see him, she would make a way."

"Yes, but we have said we didn't want her to."

"I know that, and I won't appear anxious now. No, we must leave it all to fate. It's much the best way," declared Janet. "Then there will be no responsibility about it, and it will be so much more romantic. I think however, we might go to St. Stephen's to church next Sunday."