Redmond Begins - Entry 2

September 3, 1913

Dear Helena, 

Today was my first trip to Redmond College. It had been registering day and I feel sure that every sophomore foot has stepped on mine. It was easy to discern the new student “freshettes” from the rest of the school: we all seemed to have a collective height range that allowed the older students to tower over us. There were so many people in those halls, all either pushing through registering lines or yelling and waving to the other side of the room to greet an old school buddy. I felt like the most insignificant drop of water in the college bucket. Even Priscilla admitted she looked forward to meeting with Charlie Sloane’s old “googly”, but at least familiar, eyes (I did too, incredibly).

After lunch at the Square, Priscilla and I went to the Old St. John’s graveyard next to our boarding house. Strange as that sounds, that graveyard is actually one of the great prides of the town. It’s a beautiful park, really, not at all the eerie haunt one might come to expect from a burial site---and thankfully so for my room overlooks the very place! It is quite romantic there with the graves and gazebos and all. Everything must be about a century old and it has a beautifully mysterious air about it. 

As Prissy and I were there, we met a most extraordinary character, Philippa Gordon, who had noticed around Redmond. She was a little odd but nonetheless very sweet and enduring. You know, she asked us if we thought she were pretty! Phil (as she begged us, her “darling sweethearts”, to call her) asked with such a naive solemn tone that we couldn’t help but laugh and agree; for she was very pretty, indeed! We also discovered her to be quite boy crazy---although not in the tiresome, vain way the Gillis sisters were. 

Helena, she mentioned seeing a certain Gilbert amongst the Redmond crowd. She went on about how she found him the most handsome face she had seen at the College and I felt...well...oh, never mind. But...could I really have come across that way? When we returned to the house, Prissy quietly remarked that I had turned cold after her mentioning his name, but perhaps she had just misconstrued it all. Things like that could easily happen, you know. Prissy is not exactly Diana and sometimes, even I, myself, misunderstand what I mean, risibly enough. It’s all simply...nothing.

Anyway, it seems I must leave it at that, faithful Helena. I had made plans to have supper with Gil, Charlie and Prissy tonight but I promise I shall write again tomorrow. I must tell you about Patty’s Place!

Anne