In Maytime | Page 2

see which is the New York gate?"
"Over there," replied Jenks, unblushingly pointing to the sign "Bryn
Mawr special," under which was a hurrying crowd in holiday attire.
Timothy noted the throng and bustle of an express, and pushed through
the gate just in time to get a seat.
II
"To the May-pole let us on, The time is swift and will be gone!"
The blue sky, the green campus, the laughter, echoing on every side,
repeated the invitation of the song, while the sun poured gayly through
the windows, and the voices without mingled with those within. A
breakfast party was in progress on the fourth floor of Merion. It was not
the first time such a function had been held there, but this morning the
fantastic costumes of the guests, the piles of gay cheese-cloth heaped in

a corner, the swords and plumed caps lying on top of notebooks, gave
the party an unusually festive and holiday appearance.
A herald clad in yellow and white, adorned with rampant lions before
and behind, was scrambling eggs by the window-sill, and a forester in a
brown jerkin was making coffee in one of the egg-shaped coffee-pots
so apt to turn upside down when least expected. A marshal had just set
fire to her blue and red coat-of-arms, and was kneeling in front of the
divan, engaged in carefully pasting on a patch.
Every now and then a knock announced a newcomer whose costume
was greeted with laughter and eagerly examined. Presently a forester
appeared, in Lincoln green jerkin and smock. Her arms were full of
many-coloured banners, which she proceeded to hang out of the
window, flaunting an expanse of purple lions and gilded dragons upon
the spring breeze. Then she procured a plate of eggs and potatoes, and a
cup of coffee, and sat down on the floor.
"We have been indulging in a little archery practice this morning," she
said, laughing softly at the remembrance. "It is going to be very
picturesque shooting down that avenue of trees, but it is singularly
fortunate that the target is safely out of sight!"
"Don't be discouraged! Wait till you hear the heralds striving to sound
their horns," said the sword-dancer, who was sitting on a perilous
rocking-chair without a back, while her hair was being turned up
beneath her collar. "There, listen to them now!"
There came through the open window a feeble noise, ending abruptly in
a squeak, followed by shouts of laughter. Looking out they saw a
herald standing with her head thrown back and her trumpet raised to
her lips, her tall, young figure, in its white and yellow, silhouetted
against the green campus. A motley but appreciative audience paused
in the task of putting up May-pole streamers to applaud her.
While the others were so engaged, the forester came and sat down on
the floor by the marshal, and watched her put the finishing touches to
the damaged costume.

"Will you do something for me?" she asked, a trifle shyly.
"With pleasure," said the marshal, outlining her coat-of-arms with
black paint.
"Don't say you will so quickly. I had a letter from some one, the other
day, saying he was coming to May-day. I wrote him that I didn't want
him, but -- I am afraid he will come anyway, and I don't want to see
him."
"Oh!" said the marshal, looking up. "I can't make up my mind," said the
other girl. "I wish I could, but I can't, and I simply won't see him till I
do."
"Oh!" said the marshal again. "I suppose you want me to keep him out
of your way?"
"If you only would," assented the forester, with a pleading gaze.
"But my dear young innocence, there are going to be a few thousand
people here, more or less. How am I to find one unattached young
man?"
"Oh, I only mean, in case you happen to hear of his asking for me.
People will come to you, you know. Don't have him too much on your
mind."
"I will try not to," said the marshal, dryly. "If you will hear my advice,
I think you had better see him for yourself, and settle it, yes or no, one
way or other."
"You don't know how hard it is," murmured the forester, with a little
sigh.
The marshal rose to her feet with a grim expression, which indicated
that she would like the chance of settling it. And with an inward remark
upon the nuisance of having men mixed up with college functions, she
went to the oval mirror and put on her coat-of-arms.

"The rehearsal is at ten," she announced. "Now, please be on time,
every one, so that it need not take quite the whole morning to form the
procession. Don't