SORORITY NOTES

By an EX-CHAPERONE

"The next time I am a chaperone," I said, "the very first thing I do will be to marry off all my charges. Then they will be ready to study!"

"Yes, that's the idea," approved the president of an old and famous college, to whom I was talking. "Marry 'em off, boys and girls, and then they are ready to work! I have just been thinking the same thing.'

There is a grain of truth in that joke, I assure you.

Every paper or magazine one picks up, nowadays, contains comments on the colleges, and of all questions before the public there is none of more interest, or none which concerns the colleges more closely than the question of "What shall be done about the sororities?"

It is not treason to pen a few lines of my own experience as a "Sorority Chaperone," for, on my "initiation," I frankly declared I "would make a story" of it all.

My protegés were delighted at the prospect! "Oh, do! Do! put us in?"

Will you

"Most assuredly I will," was my answer, thinking to make a humorous sketch of a very unimportant affair. It seemed, on the surface, only a huge joke, all these children playing at housekeeping, for they were really only children escaped prematurely from under their mother's wing. But I soon changed my mind as to its importance.

When, wide-eyed, I watched my dainty maidens flit up and down the stair to ball and party and rout, looking like nothing so much as a lot of flowers from box-bordered beds of an old-fashioned garden-posy-pinks, forget-me-not blues, lilies, and daffy-down-dillys-all afloat and awhirl on a tumultuous sea of happy times-when I had helplessly looked upon this through the long weeks of "rushing," there crept into my mind a doubt of its being quite sane and without responsibilities.

Thereupon my heart began to quake.

"If you will take the position," asseverated distracted resident alumnæ of this, my sorority, eager to shift their problem onto new shoulders, “if you will take the place, you will have nothing to do but to be there. The girls run the house. They are self-governing, and have a set of rules by which all must abide. Don't worry, don't be afraid. It's the easiest thing in the world!"

"I never can do it, was my answer, "never!" But the honor was thrust upon me, and feeling that perhaps it might be an easy proposition after all, and, of course, a pleasant one, to live among a lot of busy, jolly young people, I allowed myself to become initiated. Warmer welcome had none ever than I, nor a more charming house, nor greater kindliness and friendship from girls; and to live among girls and not love them would be an impossibility. They are full of generous impulses, all have a high idea of honor; the life in a sorority house broadens a girl in every way. Once a member of a sorority, she stands or falls by her own merits; what is true,

honorable, above board, is alone tolerated, and any falling below par brings justice-sometimes-from the members themselves. Yet occasionally for the "good of the house," an offender is allowed to repeat the offence-the matter is to be kept quiet; next year she will not be allowed to return, the girl who offends. The matter thus drops without scandal. Better it would be for all concerned that, on the instant of repetition, the member were promptly expelled. Girls or boys would then recognize that the real good of the sorority would be best advanced by keeping its members sharply up to its standards, without any mincing of matters.

At first glimpse of sorority life among girls, it seems ideal. The house is a home. That is true, but it will require some evolution ere that home is conducted as the quiet mother-governed homes from which its occupants have come.

College life is usually the first taste of freedom that a girl has had. She comes independently alone, she arranges her schedule with little supervision, she selects her boarding and lodging house; then, if the college be one of sororities, she casts longing eyes towards the charmed circles—and waits. If she is rushed (with small consideration for anything beyond her personal appearance or recommendation, or her father's bank account), her studies drop far into the background during the "pan-Hellenic" limit-three weeks-and if she be of the "elect," following the excitement usually comes collapse. If she is not considered eligible after all, has been "rushed" and "dropped," it is distressing to hear, "Why, some girls have broken their hearts and left college because they did not make a sorority!" Cur bono, indeed!

Is it not a strenuous beginning of college work when, among the hundreds of students, new and old, a gleaning must be made at lightning speed of the best material with which to build up sorority houses for the next nine months?

The Chaperone watches in amaze the hasty decisions. Once in a while her own judgment is asked, and when she has given an adverse decision and, for monetary reasons, a girl is admitted anyhow, it is really not a satisfaction when that member brings the sorority into bad repute ere the year's close. Perhaps life's ups and downs have made her a little more capable of judging than girls whose experience is only just beginning.

A few months of this splendid college life will winnow out the best there is in a girl, and, perhaps, at the beginning of a second semester one might judge worthily and well as to her eligibility for this new form of life. But there is no such waiting. The houses must be promptly filled; rent must be paid; arrangements for house-keeping for a long nine months are at stake.

Thus the year begins, dedicated to the Lord of Misrule, frolicking, singing, jollifying and every head soon begins to buzz with dates, and dances, as the houses reel along in competition.

Among my merry-makers I felt precisely like a grub that had suddenly emerged into the butterfly state, albeit there yet hung about me the Cinderella garments of cocoon days, for I had arrived "unbeknownst" of the

'rushing," thinking to chaperone a crowd of schoolgirls, not a bevy of society maidens whose days and nights demanded a perfect panoply of pretty clothes.

Wildly distraught was I—a typical "old woman who lived in a shoe," with my sudden supply of astonishing children! In a trice I saw that a problem that had kept the faculty and the alumnæ guessing was not mine to solve, and without delay I handed back the sum given me to solve, and handed in my resignation. What was I to hold in my hand the future of a crowd of girls living almost without restraint, for a "proctor" of their own age (or youth, rather) has small control over girls who consider themselves the arbiters of their own fate. Rules? Yes, but who kept them? They decorated the wall of the lower hall, but a firm hand and the the voice of one in authority was needed to enforce them; not the unaccustomed hands of children at the helm.

Chaperone? House-mother? Yes, but you see the house of a sorority usually really belongs to its members. It is theirs to say what may or may not be done within its walls, and dormitory rules do not prevail there as a general thing. It was a problem of self-government, working itself out as best it could, for no authority had been vested in me. Neither was I asked or desired to attend my charges to outside gaieties. They were sufficient unto themselves.

Yet the immense responsibilty lay on my heart, and, in case of trouble, would promptly have been laid at my door by parents and faculty. “No one takes these girls to heart as you do!" admonished my colleagues, “no one! Why do you?" Why did I? Who could help it? If one goes into it merely for the salary or for a home, one may, possibly, forget the danger of young lives being wrecked at the outset; one may then wink hard at many things rather than abandon such a position. But if, on the other hand, one considers for an instant all the fears and hopes, all the hard sacrifices, and notes the toil-worn hands of many visiting mothers, knowing that for them has not been even a college career, barring entirely the sorority life, one is apt to "take these girls seriously" enough, no matter what the easy counsel. Sorority life is one of growing perplexity to college regents and many are the theories advanced as to its disposition.

Yet, you cannot be among girls and not partake of their enthusiasm, and the "Pledging Breakfast" was as exciting an affair to the Chaperone as to any of her girls. Not a single "bump!" My rejoicing was deep, tho' not voiced with the others in college yells!

Twenty-one days of dazzling dinner-gowns, and the successful culmination of our festivities was reached! "Coach-rides" and "cookie-shines" had wrought for us a victory! (Small matter that, close upon our triumphs, one of my "rushers" succumbed to an attack of heart-weakness! That another went home with bronchitis, and yet another very nearly "crossed the river" from an attack of appendicitis, and one and all in utter languor betook themselves finally to text-books!)

"We are hoodooed," declared my girls. But it wasn't hoodoo; it was only a flagrant violation of the commonest of nature's laws, and the

result was only what might have been expected, in my house as in all the others.

As for the chaperones (and they numbered four in the town), they lived through it-that's about all. My own nights had been spent in hanging over the banisters at intervals from 11:30 P. M. to 2:00 A. M., and a little more, wild with anxiety, for sometimes the gray dawn alone sent the merrymakers home. Alone was I in my worry about them? No. Hark to a voice from the faculty.

"I hear them coming home, sometimes at daybreak, and I say to my husband, 'Oh, what if it was our little girl!'"

You see, don't you? The Chaperone is not "responsible," but every single girl lies on her heart like a lump of lead, and every mother, in case of disaster, would instantly cry, "What were you doing, that my girl should come to harm!"

"Not take them seriously," indeed!

My first experience with college fraternities was when the four upper rooms of my own old home were rented to some nice young fellows, and my horizon was quickly enlarged! These brilliant young geniuses soon transformed the rooms into a meeting place for the "Brotherhood," and, while I stood aghast, and laughed at the uproar that ensued, and trembled at the downfall of furniture under gymnastic pranks, and closed my ears to the sound of heavy feet that denoted, on nights of initiation, the march of coffinbearers adown the winding stair, my neighbors raised their voices in remonstrance, and at the expiration of three months my boys were made to vacate.

With them had been no anxiety as to their future. Though the sons of ministers, many of them, there seemed little doubt as to the road they would travel; it was foreordained. But my enlightenment was great as to what college "frats" could do in the way of frolicking! But they were generous, for not a banquet was cooked above stairs, with my own utensils that had long ago traveled skyward, that I was not therein made a sharer, some one lad or the other appearing at my door with gentle knock about midnight "The fellows want you to taste this!" and handing in some rare tidbit.

Well, college frats for boys will endure to the end of time; but college sororities for girls are in process of evolution-or annihilation-which? Months have gone, and yet as I pen these words a picture flits before

me.

A roomfull of flowerlike girls lounging on cushions in the brilliant glow from a wide fireplace. Their gauzy gowns fluff up about them like petals in a daisy field. They are all so pretty, so gay, so full of the joy of living. Everything pertaining to sorority life takes on a couleur de rose. Surely, this is the ideal way in which a girl may journey through her college years!

I watch them and listen to the gay songs, and my heart yearns ineffably over the singers. Looking back on it now, I wonder at my "worry," for beneath all this spurt at learning, and the weary grubbing of Greek roots, they were but "home-making" little women, and Nature herself took a

hand in their careers; and I am thankful to say, after I had given up the responsibility, many a cheerful call came to me over the 'phone of "engagements" among my girls.

But, then, they seemed to me hardly older than a little lass of sixteen months who promenaded uncertainly past our door every morning, and they needed "mothering" as much as my boys when they battered themselves up in football, and I was reproved for my fussing "You are not the mother of all those boys!"

So, you see, I always have taken the "frats" seriously.

There is good in this community life for girls-much good. A chapter house is a home; but it will have to be run on different lines from the present. Of the visiting girls one has no control. Their advent is a deterrent of all the regular mode of living, and the "week-end" invariably brings an influx of girls, doubling the expense of living, and upsetting house-keeping arrangements more fully than in a private house. Neither are these girls amenable to rules, and the chaperone can only anxiously await their depart

ure.

One yellow-haired, delicate girl was my despair, and my one daily question was, "Why don't you go home to your mother?" Later, and after my resignation had taken effect and I was out, I met her again and again “visiting," but mostly on the street, attended, usually, by two University boys-flushed, weary looking, needing care; and I was glad at heart the responsibility was not mine!

Whose was it?

It lay at the doors of the resident alumnæ of the sorority, I thought, not to allow so much visiting, so much freedom of the house or of the streets. Poor little lassie!

Constant stir, constant excitement of coming and going guests; weary cares of house-keeping for girls whose brains should be free of all care except the work of the classroom; a dreary struggle to make ends meet, and avoid financial shipwreck; for the expenses pertaining to sorority life are many, what with "cookie-shines" and the numberless entertainments as the months go on. The heavy, overhanging burden of a debt, (if they are buying their houses), monetary distress of every kind, must be eliminated before these girls can live their lives studiously, happily, and in full enjoyment of college privileges. Colleges all sigh for an "ideal sorority house!"

It can be made, but it will take a strong hand at the helm. It will need dormitory rules. It will need a willingness of every inmate to coöperate with the chaperone in making the house a home-a real home, not a place where you often hear the words, "My! wouldn't I be called down for that at home!" See, do you?

It does not seem to me that "discipline" is a word to use in connection with such girls. In a mother-governed house, the privileges and freedom of the home is theirs also. A girl rarely abuses it. In a sorority house, the same feeling must prevail. Let any inmate transgress or abuse these privileges, after reprimand, if the offense is repeated, without hesitation expel her, "for the good of the sorority.