That evening as Hal assisted the two girls into the tonneau of the limousine, he was of the romantic opinion that he had merely persuaded a couple of stray moonbeams to ride with him. The light of the fair, increasing moon endowed the duo with a peculiar ethereal beauty which gave him a feeling of reverence. Girls were mostly like flowers was his boyish comparison. The most beautiful flower of them all was Marjorie. Someday he would dare tell her so, but not for a long time.
Arrived at Gray Gables Hal had no further opportunity to “moon.” The rest of the company had arrived and were impatiently awaiting them. The limousine had hardly come to a stop on the drive when out of the house they trooped, shouting the Sanford and Weston High School yells by way of welcome. Danny Seabrooke and the Crane then broke into the “Stars and Stripes” on mouth organs. Miles Burton rattled out a lively accompaniment on little Charlie Stevens’ toy drum.
“I had no idea I was so popular.” Hal bowed his thanks to the noisy musicians.
“You are not,” the Crane hastened to inform him. “That choice selection we just rendered was in honor of the girls. Don’t credit yourself with everything. It’s horribly conceited.”
“I’m glad you named it as a ‘selection,’” Hal made scathing retort.
“What, may I ask, would you name it?” queried Danny with a dangerous affability.
“Making night hideous, or, a disgraceful racket, or, the last convulsions of a would-be jazz band. Any little appellation like that would be strictly appropriate.” Hal beamed ironically on the three. “Nice little drummer boy you have there.”
Supposedly offended, Danny could not repress a loud snicker at this fling. Miles Burton stood six feet, minus shoes. With Charlie’s toy drum strung round his neck on a narrow blue ribbon, he was distinctly mirth-inspiring.
“Throw any more remarks like that about me and you’ll find out my real disposition,” warned Miles in a deep bass growl.
“Come ladies; let us hasten on before trouble overtakes us—me, I mean. Back, varlets. Grab your instruments of torture and begone.” Hal grandly motioned the objectionable varlets out of the way.
“That’s what I say,” called Jerry from the top step. “For once I agree with Hal. Let the girls come up on the porch, can’t you? You four sillies can stay outside and rave. Notice how well Laurie and Harry are behaving. Try to be a little like them, if you can.”
“You can’t know them as I do,” rumbled Miles.
“No; Iguess not,” emphasized Hal. “Well, I’d rather be called a silly than a varlet.”
“That will do from all of you.” Jerry ran down the steps and with a few energetic waves of the arms drove the masculine half of the guests up onto the brightly-lighted veranda. There the entire company lingered to talk, presently strolling into the long old-fashioned drawing room which Constance used for dancing purposes when entertaining her friends.
“Be happy and make yourselves at home,” she said in her pretty, graceful fashion. “Father and Uncle John will soon be here to play for us. They are helping Mr. Beaver, the leader of the Sanford orchestra, organize some of the Sanford working boys into an orchestra. It’s a fine idea. I think Father and Uncle John will help him all they can whenever they are at home.”
Marjorie cast a quick, inquiring look toward Constance. Her eyes luminous with affection, she asked: “Has it come at last, Connie?”
“Yes, Marjorie,” Constance answered, in a proud, happy tone. “I would like you to know,” she continued, turning to the others, “that Uncle John is to be a first violin in Father’s symphony orchestra. You can understand just how glad we feel about it.”
Connie’s news met with an echoing shout. All present cherished the warmest regard for gentle Uncle John, who had ever been so willing to play for them. Far removed from poverty, he had gradually regained the lost faculty of memory and could now be relied upon for symphony work.
“Oh, just wait until he gets home!” promised Hal. “Won’t he get a reception, though?”
“Surest thing in the world!” Laurie’s dark blue eyes were darker from emotion. Laurie had known for a very long time that, if Constance’s adopted family were not his own, some future day, it would not be his fault.
“That explains why we haven’t seen Charlie,” smiled Marjorie. “He is actually helping, at last, to organize a big band. I meant to ask for him. There was so much sarcasm being hurled back and forth, my voice would have been lost in the uproar,” she slyly added.
“He took his violin and music. The music was a lot of old stray song sheets. He will play themand put everyone out, if he has a chance,” Constance predicted with an infectious little giggle.
The entrance of Miss Allison into the drawing room brought the young folks to their feet. Her fondness for youth made her a welcome addition at their parties. She particularly enjoyed Danny Seabrooke’s antics and the sham penalties they invariably brought on him.
“You young gentlemen will soon be leaving for college as well as our girls,” she remarked to Hal. “I am glad Laurie has decided to go through college before making music his profession. He really needs the college training. Constance, on the contrary, will do as well to begin her training for grand opera at once. She must study Italian and Spanish. That, with her vocal practice, will keep her fully occupied. How I shall miss my boys and girls! They have been life to me.” Miss Allison’s delicate features saddened unconsciously.
A muffled sob, too realistic to be genuine, rent the air at her right. Her sad expression vanished as her eyes lighted upon the mourner. Slumped into the depths of a big velvet chair, Danny was struggling visibly with his sorrowful emotions.
“To see us all here tonight, who would dream of the parting to come so soon-n; s-o s-o-o-o-on-n!” he wailed, covering his freckled, grief-stricken countenance with both hands. No one arising to assuage his sorrow,his gurgles and sobs grew louder.
“Won’t some one please choke off that bellow?” Laurie viewed the perpetrator of the melancholy sounds with a cold, unrelenting eye.
“De-lighted.” Hal rose from a seat on the davenport beside Marjorie and advanced with threatening deliberation upon Danny.
“You needn’t mind. I am getting used to the idea of parting now.” The “bellow” ceased like magic. Danny spoke in a small, sad voice that might have belonged to a five-year-old girl. “Soon I shall be able to contemplate it without a single tear. I could part fromyou,” he suddenly recovered his own voice, “or that ruffian of an Armitage, and smile; yes, sir; actuallysmile. I’d rather part at any time, and from anybody than to be murderously ‘choked off’ by you two bullies.”
Danny hastily arose, after this defiant declaration, and retreated to the lower end of the room. Crowding himself into a small rocking chair belonging to Charlie, he rocked and smirked at Hal, who had followed him to the chair and now stood over him.
“Move back a trifle, Mr. Macy. I refuse to be responsible for other people’s shins. I have all I can do to take care of my own. If I were to kick you,accidentally, I should besosorry!”
“Oh, undoubtedly! Wouldn’t you, though?”Bending, with one swift movement of the arm, Hal upset the rocker and its grinning occupant. “Now will you be good?” he inquired sarcastically. Leaving the struggling wag to right himself, Hal strolled back to Marjorie.
The room rang with laughter at Danny’s upheaval, nor did it lessen as he went through a series of ridiculous attempts to rise from the floor. In the midst of the fun Charlie Stevens marched into the drawing room, his little leather violin case tucked importantly under one arm, his music under the other. Behind him were Mr. Stevens and John Roland.
“What for is he doing to my chair?” Charlie asked very severely.
“He’s trying to part with it, Charlie, and he’s either stuck in it or pretending he is,” Harry Lenox replied to the youngster.
“You mustn’t ever sit in a chair that don’t look like you, Danny,” reproved Charlie. “That chair looks like me. You ought to know better.”
This was too much for the erring Daniel. With a shout of mirth he slipped free of the chair, and, catching up the little boy, swung him to his shoulder. “You’re the funniest little old kid on creation!” he exclaimed.
“That’s what I think,” returned Charlie, with an innocent complacency that again brought down thehouse. From that on Charlie divided honors with Uncle John, who was due to receive the sincere congratulations of the young folks he had so often made happy by his music. To see the white-haired, patient-faced old musician surrounded by his young friends was a sight that Miss Allison never forgot. When, a little later, she led Charlie from the room, bedward bound, there was thankfulness in her heart because she had found the lonely people of the Little Gray House in time.
With the musicians on the scene, dancing was promptly begun and continued unflaggingly until a late supper was served in the dining room. There a surprise awaited Marjorie. While the company were engaged in eating the dessert, she had a dim idea that something unusual was pending. She dismissed it immediately as a vague fancy.
Next she became aware that a silence had settled down upon the supper party. Then Hal Macy rose from his chair and said in his clear, direct tones: “I am going to read you a little tribute to a very good friend of ours. I know you will agree with me that Marjorie Dean is largely responsible for a great many pleasant times we have enjoyed since we have known her. By that I mean, not only the merry evenings we have spent at her home, but the happiness that has been ours because of her fine influence. As well as I could, for I am no poet,I have tried to put our sentiments into verse. While the meter may be faulty, the inspiration is flawless.”
Applause greeted this frank, graceful little preamble. When it had subsided, Hal read his verses. They fitly expressed, to the amazed, and all but overcome, subject of them, the strength of her friends’ devotion. When he had finished she had no words with which to reply. She was grateful for the fresh round of approbation that began. It gave her time to force back her tears. She did not wish to break down if she could help it. She felt that she owed it to Hal to thank him with a smile.
Hardly had quiet been restored when Constance took the floor. In her right hand she held an oblong box of white velvet. When she began to speak, it was directly to Marjorie.
“What Hal has said to you, tonight, Marjorie, is so true and beautiful that I couldn’t better it if I tried. He has expressed just the way we feel about you, and what your sunny, dear influence has been to us. We are afraid that someday you may run away and leave us, so we wish to tie you to us with a bowknot of affection.”
Constance flitted the length of the table and around the end to the side opposite from her seat. Pausing behind Marjorie’s chair, she slid a barewhite arm over her chum’s shoulder and gently dropped the velvet box in front of her.
“I—I think I am going to cry,” quavered Marjorie, “and I don’t—want—to. Please—I—don’t think—I—deserve——”
“I would advise you not to weep, Marjorie, or you may be treated as I was,” warned Danny’s bland tones. “It’s not safe to sob around here.”
Marjorie gave a half tremulous giggle that was the forerunner of recovery. Her tears checked, her hands trembled as she opened the white velvet box. Then her emotion became that of sheer wonder. Resting on its satin bed gleamed a string of graduated pearls from which hung a pearl pendant in the form of a bowknot.
“What made you do this?” she faltered. “It isn’tIwho have ever done anything to make you happy. It’syouwho have done everything to make me happy. I don’t know what to say, only you are all so dear to me and thank you.”
Constance standing beside Marjorie, an arm over her shoulder, Marjorie turned and childishly hid her flushed face in the frills of Connie’s white organdie gown. While her thoughts were far from collected, she was experiencing a gladness of spirit because Constance could thus be her refuge at a time of overwhelming happiness.
The day after Constance’s party brought Marjorie her General. With her father at home, after a lengthy absence, the sorrow of leaving her dear ones came forward again. Marjorie tried earnestly to keep all locked within and succeeded in a measure. Her General was not blind to the situation, however, and exerted himself on all occasions to keep his somewhat sober-faced lieutenant in good spirits.
On the morning of the day before Marjorie’s departure for college, he announced his firm intention to help her pack. Nor did he swerve for an instant from his self-imposed duty. Breakfast over, he chased the lieutenant, screaming with laughter, up the stairs, landing in the middle of her “house” with a flying leap which an acrobat might have envied.
Regardless of his giggling daughter’s ideas on the subject of packing, he swept down upon whatever lay nearest at hand and stowed it into one ofthe two open trunks. His efforts at being helpful were brief. Three determined pairs of hands intercepted his bold attempt to safely caché a small taboret, a large embroidered doyley, a satin chair cushion, a cut glass scent bottle and a Japanese vase. The energetic general’s services were summarily dispensed with. He was banished from the room and the door shut in his face with a bang. In less than fifteen minutes he announced his return by a tattoo which threatened demolishment to the door. He was not re-admitted until he had given his word not to meddle with the packing. When Marjorie cautiously opened the door to him she found him staggering under a load of pasteboard boxes. He dumped them at her feet with a bow so profound that he all but stood on his head.
“There you are, unfeeling child!” he exclaimed. “How shocking to have a daughter who doesn’t scruple to turn her poor old father out of her house!”
“Well, I let you into my house again, didn’t I? Just please recall why you were turned out.” Marjorie clasped both arms about her father’s neck and swung on him gleefully. No one could be the least bit sad when General elected to be funny. Mrs. Dean and Ronny had already busied themselves with straightening the pile of boxes which had scattered when dumped to the floor.
“It’s a good thing for you that you did,” retorted Mr. Dean significantly. “I might have gone away from the door and neverNEVERhave come back again. Then think what you would have missed.”
“Oh, you would have had to come back sometime,” was the serene assurance, as Marjorie plumped down on the floor to explore her newly-acquired riches.
They were all the heart of a girl could wish. One box contained a white chiffon evening scarf, thickly embroidered with tiny pink daisies. It draped itself in graceful folds to the waist, the ends reaching to the hem of her gown. Another held a white velour sports coat, the cut and design of it being particularly smart. From another box tumbled a dozen pairs of kid gloves. There was also a box of silk hosiery, another of fine linen handkerchiefs with butterfly and bowknot corners, her favorite designs, a box of engraved monogrammed stationery, and a pair of black satin evening slippers.
One long wide box she had left until the last. The lid removed and the folds of white tissue paper lifted, Marjorie breathed a little “Oh!” She stared in admiration at an exquisite evening frock of delicately shaded Chinese crêpe. It might have represented a spring dawn, shading as it did from creamy white to pale, indeterminate violet, and from violet to faintest pink. It was fashioned with a cunningsimplicity of design which made it of the mode, yet strikingly individual. About the hem of the skirt, around the square neck and short sleeves and on the ends of the separate sash trailed shadowy clusters of violets, stamped upon the crêpe with an art known only to the Chinese.
“Where did you find it, General?” she gasped, as she held up the lovely, shimmering frock for her captain and Ronny to see. “I never expected to own a dream gown like this.”
“It is a spring poem in shades,” declared Ronny, lightly touching an end of the sash. “I can guess where it came from. Only a high-grade Chinese bazaar could furnish a gown of its kind. There are a few such shops west of the Mississippi. I never saw a gown so beautiful as this one even in San Francisco.”
“It did not come from a shop. A Chinese merchant sent to China for it as a gift to Marjorie. In Denver I have a good friend, Mah Waeo, the last of an ancient Chinese house. He looks like an Eastern nobleman in carved ivory. He is a fine elderly man of irreproachable business and social reputation. He is a tea merchant and has great wealth. He lives very simply and spends most of his business gains in trying to educate and uplift his own people. We have been fast friends for fifteen years.”
“I am familiar with that type of Chinese,” Ronny spoke eagerly. “At home, Father and I have a good Chinese friend, too; Sieguf Tah. He lives alone on the smallest of his fruit ranches and acts as a benevolent father to all the China boys around there. The China boys, as they like to be called, are faithful, wise, intelligent and industrious. Best of all, they are strictly honest.”
“I hope Mah Waeo will sometime make us a visit. I suppose you must have often invited him, General. He was a perfect dear to take such pains for a present for me.” Marjorie raised a radiant face to her father. “All this is about the nicest surprise you ever gave me. I can’t help liking my spring poem gown best of all. I shall write to Mah Waeo and tell him so and ask him myself to please make us a visit someday.”
“I don’t see how we are going to pack all these new treasures in your two trunks,” Mrs. Dean practically interposed. “We shall have to do some skilful managing.”
“They simply allmustgo,” decreed Marjorie. “I couldn’t leave one behind.”
“Which reminds me that I have something for you and Captain which I brought from the Golden West and have been saving until an appropriate, moment. With your gracious permission, I willretire and return anon, as the old-style novelists loved to write.”
Attired in a full, half-fitted morning gown of soft white silk, Ronny spread her arms, bowed down to the floor, East Indian fashion, and made a quick backward exit from the room.
“I am going to make Ronny dance for us tonight,” planned Marjorie. “She isn’t going to pack that frock she has on. It will be a perfect dancing costume. We will have a little home party tonight; just the four of us. No; five. I want Delia to be with us, too. I’ve grown up under Delia’s wing. She has always worked so hard to do her best for me whenever I have had a party, and she’s been so good to me in all ways.”
“By all means let us have Delia at our party,” heartily indorsed Mr. Dean. “I shall ask her to dance the minuet with me. Do you think there will be music? I hope some one will be able to play a minuet fit to be heard. Did I hear you say that you had practised occasionally this summer?”
“No, you didn’t, you old tease!” Marjorie sprang to her feet and made a rush at her general.
“Careful! I’m very fragile,” he protested. Then he caught her in his strong arms and held her close. Her face buried against his shoulder, Marjorie knew that her father had loosed one arm from around her and drawn Captain into the circle of it
Thus Veronica found them when she returned with her love offerings. She halted in the doorway, her face alight with tenderness for these three who had succeeded more nearly than any other persons she had ever known in living the ideal family life.
In her hand Ronny held two small black leather cases. The one contained a ring of pure gold, artistically chased with a running vine, and set with one large, perfect sapphire. This was intended for Marjorie. For Mrs. Dean she had bought a gold and pearl pin of ancient Peruvian handiwork. Both pieces of jewelry were from an old Spanish collection. She had bought them at a private sale in San Leandro for her friends and now delighted to add her tribute to Marjorie’s happiness.
Standing very still in the doorway, her eyes meditatively sought the cases in her hand. Then she turned and stole noiselessly away from the little scene of adoration. Ronny knew that Marjorie was taking her real farewell of her general and captain.
“Hamilton, did you say? Lead me to it.” Jerry Macy opened her eyes and peered through the car window with revived interest. For an hour ormore she had been leaning back against the high green plush car seat dozing lightly. It was now five o’clock in the afternoon and active Jerry was feeling the strain of sitting still, hour after hour.
“No; I didn’t say Hamilton.” Muriel gently tweaked Jerry’s ear. “Wake up, sleepy head. That station we just passed was Harcourt Hill. What comes next?” Muriel opened a time table and frowningly perused it. “It’s hard to remember the names of these little stations. Now where was I at? Oh, yes; Harcourt Hill. Next comes Palmer; then Tresholme. After that, West Hamilton, and then Hamilton. Hamilton is the first stop this express makes, thank goodness!”
“Muriel, you have really been invaluable to us on this journey. Allow me to decorate you.” Ronny leaned forward and pinned a huge lace-paper rosette on the obliging Lookout. “Wear this for my sake.”
While Muriel had been industriously engaged in calling out the stations, Ronny had hastily ripped a piece of decorative lace-paper from a half emptied box of candied fruit, which the travelers had shared, and busied herself with it. The result of her effort she now generously tendered Muriel.
“I will—not.” Muriel intercepted the rosette before it found a place on the lapel of her brown taffeta traveling coat and crumpled it in her hand. “No such decorations for me when I’m so nearHamilton. Suppose I forgot about it and wore it off the train. Some college wag would be sure to see it and post me in the grind book. Freshmen are good material for grinds. Remember that and keep your old rosettes out of sight.”
“What would be written about you?” asked Lucy Warner curiously. “I can’t see anything in that to write about.”
“Don’t think for a minute that enough couldn’t be found in one foolish old paper rosette to make me feel silly for a half term, at least. I don’t know what the method of teasing me would be. I do know that I am not going to give strange students a chance to try it.”
“Then I shall hardly dare answer anyone, even if I am first addressed.” Lucy fixed her green eyes on Muriel with an expression of alarm.
Muriel burst out laughing as she met the steady stare. She had never taken prim Lucy seriously. Lucy’s austere solemnity always had an hilarious effect on keen-witted Muriel. Coupled with a direct stare from those peculiar greenish eyes, Muriel invariably felt a strong desire to laugh when in her presence. As a result, there was no strain between the two, as was the case with the majority of the Lookouts and Lucy.
“You had better be very,verycareful,” warned Muriel with simulated cautiousness.
“I intend to be. I may not even speak to you, once I am on the campus,” was the retort.
“Oh, it will be safe to speak to me,” Muriel assured. “You may even speak to others when you are spoken to and be safe. You are not strictly of the information-bureau type. Don’t worry about being afraid of the Hamiltonites. They will probably stand in awe of you.”
“What is all this advice you are giving Lucy?” From across the aisle Marjorie leaned toward the quartette in the double seat. “Since it was my turn to be exiled across the aisle, I’ve lost a lot of pearls of speech.”
As only four could occupy the double seat, the five girls had arranged on entraining, to take turns sitting in the seat opposite their own. This was somewhat lonely for the fifth member of the party. The exclusive isolation of the chair car had not found favor with them. They preferred the more democratic day coach where they could be together. While Marjorie could catch little of Muriel’s remarks to Lucy, she knew by the half-amused smile on Lucy’s face that she was being chaffed and enjoying it.
“Oh, I am simply reassuring Lucy. Now that we are almost in sight of our Mecca, she is beginning to be scared.”
“A nice kind of reassurance,” scoffed Lucy. “Shejust finished telling me the grind hunters would lie in wait for me and to look out for them.”
“We’ll protect you, Lucy,” promised Marjorie lightly. “When we leave the train we will walk two on each side of you. Then you will be safe from——”
“Stretch-your-necks, wags and grind hunters,” supplied Jerry, now sufficiently aroused to join in the conversation.
“Something like that. So glad to have you with us again, Jeremiah. We must have bored you terribly or you wouldn’t have gone to sleep.” Marjorie had adopted Muriel’s methods.
“Oh, I can’t say I was bored more than usual,” drawled Jerry, with a languid wave of her hand. “You are all about the same as ever. No relief in sight before next June. I must do the best I can. In the words of good old Proffy Fontaine: ‘No wan can do mo-rr-rr!’” Jerry’s imitation of the sorely-tried French professor evoked a chorus of reminiscent giggles.
“Much obliged for your high opinion of our society,” said Veronica. “All we can do is to trail around after you, hopeful that someday you will discover how brilliant we really are.”
“You may hope,” graciously permitted Jerry. “If I discover signs of brilliancy sprouting in any of you, I’ll let you know instantly. I won’t keepthe precious knowledge to myself. There’s nothing stingy about me.”
“Thank you, thank you,” was the united, grateful answer, ending in a burst of low-toned laughter which caused several older persons to smile indulgently upon the bevy of merry-faced girls.
Nine o’clock that morning had seen the five travelers to Hamilton playing their parts at the Sanford station, surrounded by their families and a number of devoted friends. It was not a large crowd that had gathered at the nine-twenty train, but it was a loyal one.
Marjorie had felt very sad and solemn during that last brief wait for the train which was to bear her from home and her own. When it had arrived she had made brave farewells to her captain and general. She had fought hard to keep a smile on her face. Complete control of her emotions returned from a sudden mishap to Jerry. An unexpected jarring of the train threw Jerry off her balance as she was about to deposit a traveling bag in the rack above her head. With a forward lurch, she described a wavering semi-circle in the air with the bag. Banging it down on Muriel’s lap, she sprawled helplessly between Muriel and Veronica.
Her timely spill turned the tide of mourning into mirth. Marjorie forgot her sadness, for the timebeing, in listening with laughter to Jerry’s scathing remarks on the subject of trains.
Now, after the greater part of the day spent on the cars, the somewhat tired Lookouts were nearing their journey’s end. Fifteen minutes and the town of Hamilton would be reached. Marjorie was wondering, as she idly glimpsed the passing scenery from the car window, if there were many other Hamilton-bound girls on the train. There were only one or two young girls besides her party in the car they were occupying.
“West Hamilton, children,” announced Muriel oracularly. “Observe, if you please, the charming beauty of this little burg.” She took on the tone of a hired guide. “One of the most picturesque spots in the United States. We will pretend it is, anyway.”
“Nothing like having a vivid imagination,” murmured Ronny.
“Quite true Miss Lynne,” beamed Muriel. “So glad you appreciate my abilities. You are so different in that respect from some girls.” She fixed a significant eye upon Jerry, who merely grinned lazily. “Before I go further in expiating on the scenery of this place, one quarter, please, all around. You pay me another quarter after you’ve seen the town. Just recall that it takes breath and patience to be a successful guide.”
“Yes, I guess so,” scoffed Jerry. “Kindly tell me where you get the wordguideas applying to you. A guide is one who guides. All your guiding is done in your mind. I wouldn’t pay ten cents to see this town at present. I can see it later for nothing. On to Hamilton! That’s my watchword.”
“I couldn’t see much of it, guide or no guide,” remarked Lucy. “The train went so fast, I’m amazed that Muriel could see it well enough to describe the scenery.”
“That’s something we will let Guide Muriel explain before she collects any of our precious quarters,” decreed Jerry.
“I’ll do no explaining, and don’t you call me Guide Muriel. Start that and it will stick to me. I can’t shake it off as I did that old rosette. I see that you and Ronny are determined to make trouble for me. I think I had better keep very quiet from now on.”
“Just think what a restful time we might all have had if you had only decided to do that an hour or two earlier,” declared Jerry regretfully. “As it is, we are so tired. I suppose you must be tired, too?” She beamed questioningly on Muriel, who beamed on her in satirical return, wholly unabashed.
“We are five weary travelers,” said Veronica, “about to be dumped down in the strange country of college.”
“I like that idea,” approved Lucy Warner, with the sudden crispness which marked her speech. “I like to fancy us as five travelers in the country of college. We might call ourselves that.” Her eyes darkened with the interest of her own suggestion. “I mean, just in private. There is a certain touch of romance about it that pleases me.”
“I like it, too, Lucy,” commended Muriel. “I know something we could do as the five travelers, too. Once a week we could meet in one another’s rooms, in the evening, and we could each tell how everything has been for us during the week. Whatever happens, we could agree to keep strictly to ourselves until then. That is, unless it were something that had to be settled at once. In that way we would be certain to keep clear of any silly misunderstandings among ourselves. Close friends that we are, none of us is infallible, you know. We know we are not going to quarrel, of course, but a misunderstanding is different. It crops up when you least expect it.”
“I’m filled with admiration for you, clever Muriel,” praised Veronica. “I wish you hadn’t ruined that pretty rosette I made you. I would decorate you all over again. Shall we become the United Order of the Five Travelers? We shall. Our rooms will serve as a wayside inn where we shall gather to tell our tales of joy, woe or adventure.Do tell Marjorie about it. There she sits by her sweet little self, with no idea of the great work going on under her very nose. Here, I’ll tell her myself.”
Slipping past Muriel, Ronny crossed the aisle and touched Marjorie on the shoulder. Unable to hear with comfort what was being said by her chums, Marjorie had briefly leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. The excitement of the day was beginning to tell on her. She was feeling dispirited. What a long time it had been since she had said good-bye to Captain and General! And yet it was now only late afternoon of the same day.
“Move over,” genially ordered Ronny. “I’ve something to report, Lieutenant, and only about five minutes to report it in. We are in sight of the fateful town of Hamilton.”
Marjorie obeyed the order, brightening visibly at Ronny’s invasion. “I saw you four with your heads together,” she returned. “I knew something was stirring.”
“I beg to inform you that you are now a member of the United Order of the Five Travelers,” Ronny announced, dropping her arm over Marjorie’s shoulder. Rapidly she repeated what had been talked over across the aisle. Marjorie listened in absorption. Her quick brain instantly grasped the value of the project from its ethical side. It wouldbe good for all of them, she thought, to have these little confidence sessions. It would be the very best thing in the world for Lucy.
“Hamilton! Hamil-lton-n-n!” The stentorian call echoed through the car. Their interest centered on the new idea, both girls were startled by the brakeman’s loud tones.
“I must gather up my luggage.” Ronny sprang up and hurriedly sought her own seat with: “More later about the Five Travelers.”
Marjorie nodded and began mechanically to gather up her own luggage. It consisted of a suit case and a smart leather hand bag across the aisle. The box of candied fruit, presented to her by Mr. La Salle, was going the rounds for the last time. It had been mischievously started by Muriel and smilingly declined by three canny freshmen.
“You don’t catch me marching out of the train with my mouth full of candy, looking as though I were about seven years old,” was Jerry’s decided stand. “Go ahead. Eat some yourself, Muriel.”
“I don’t think it would be polite to eat all of Marjorie’s candy,” declined Muriel.
“The delicate consideration of that girl! Ahem! Here’s your candy, Sweet Marjoram.” Reaching over, Jerry deposited it on Marjorie’s seat. “Now for a first timid look at Collegeburg!” As the trainbegan to slow down for a dead stop, Jerry peered curiously out of the car window.
From her own window, Marjorie was also casting her first glances at the Hamilton station. Like the stations of exclusive suburban towns, adjacent to large cities, this one had two separate station buildings; one for outgoing and the other for incoming trains. The two connected by a stone passage-way underneath, ascent or descent made possible by a short flight of stone steps at each end of the passage.
As it happened, Marjorie had been sitting on the side of the car that faced toward the outgoing trains. In consequence, her first impression of Hamilton was a blank. She had expected to see groups of girls in white and light-colored gowns walking up and down the platform. She had looked forward to a scene of moving color and young life. Now all she saw was a platform, empty save for an elderly man, who was leading a little boy of perhaps five or six years along it. This surely was not the Hamilton of her dreams.
A moment later she was moving out of the train with her chums, smiling over her recent flat sense of disappointment. A glance out of a window on the opposite side of the car had proved reassuring. On the platform toward which she and her friends were directing their steps were girls in abundance.
“Look at the mob!” Jerry made this low-tone exclamation over her shoulder as she went down the car steps.
Soon the Five Travelers had left the car behind them and become a part of the throng on the station platform. Unconsciously they drew together in a compact, little bunch, somewhat as a quintette of homeless kittens might have done, who had been thrown out on a very big, inhospitable world to wonder what was going to happen to them next.
There they continued to stand for at least three minutes, each busily forming her own opinions of this particular feature of college life. Two girls who had left the train just ahead of them had alreadybeen pounced upon by a group of their friends and whisked off the platform. At the right of them a tall, dignified girl in glasses was shaking hands warmly with three welcoming friends. She looked as though she might be a senior. It was not until long afterward that Marjorie learned that she was a prospective freshman who failed ignominiously in her entrance examinations and left Hamilton, disconsolate.
The longer they stood and watched what went on around them, the more it became enforced upon them that there was a welcome for everyone but themselves.
“I am afraid they didn’t get our telegram,” commented Jerry, with a degree of sarcasm that bespoke her contempt for everything she had ever heard or read of college hospitality and tradition.
“Our telegram? Why, did you send a——? Oh, I see.” Muriel Harding shrewdly surveyed the scene before her, a glint of belligerence in her eyes.
“Of course I didn’t send a telegram. Can’t you tell when I am sarcastic? I supposed I was extremely sarcastic just then. I’ll have to try again.” The fact of being ignored by the upper class students of Hamilton had not disturbed Jerry’s ever ready sense of humor.
“Come on, girls.” Ronny spoke almost authoritatively. “We know our destination is WaylandHall and it is on the campus. We can find a taxicab easily enough. We don’t have to wait for a reception committee, apparently not on duty today.”
“Shades of the Students’ Aid where art thou?” declaimed Marjorie, the tiniest touch of satire in the remark.
“Humph! I must say that I am not so particular about that minus welcome. Fortunately we are neither children nor idiots. I think we can find our way without any help.”
With this sturdy assertion Jerry lifted her suitcase from the platform and gazed defiantly about her. The others followed her example, and the five girls headed for a short set of stone steps at the back of the platform which formed an exit from the station premises. In order to reach the steps they had to wind their way in and out of the groups of young women which filled the platform. Several pairs of bright eyes were turned on them for the conventional, well-bred second, yet none came forward to speak to them.
As Veronica had predicted, it was no trouble to find a taxicab. Two or three dark blue cabs, belonging to the railroad company, were drawn up in the open space behind the station. Selecting the first one they came to, Veronica gave the driver the address, and the Five Travelers stepped into the automobile.
As they drove out of the station yard they passed a large gray car driving in. It was filled to overflowing with girls, all of them in high spirits. Marjorie noted as the car glided by her that the girl at the wheel was particularly attractive. Even a passing glance revealed that fact. A little ache tugged at her heart. It seemed rather hard that they should have been so utterly ignored.
“Now that I’ve seen some of these dear little children of our Alma Mater, I’m better pleased with myself than ever. Let me tell you one thing and that isn’t two,” Jerry paused impressively, “they need reforming badly. But don’t you ask me to tackle the job. I feel in my aristocratic bones that I owe it to myself to be very exclusive this year; andI am going to be it.”
“I don’t care to know anyone except you girls.” Lucy Warner looked almost pleased at the prospect of forming no new acquaintances at college.
“I don’t like the idea of being slighted,” Muriel complained. “I can’t say that I expected to have a fuss made over me. Still, we Lookouts have been at the head of things so much in Sanford High that it hurts to be passed by entirely. Besides, I wish to like college. I would not be content to go on all year without meetingsomepleasant girls with whom I could be friendly. You know what I mean.”
Muriel looked almost appealingly about her. The five girls had tucked themselves into the tonneau of the machine, three on the main seat and two occupying the small chair-like stools opposite. Her eyes rested last on Marjorie whose meditative expression promised support.
Thus far, none of the travelers had paid the slightest attention to the clean, well laid out town of Hamilton through which they were passing. They were too wholly concerned at the utter lack of courtesy which had been accorded them. It brushed Veronica least of all. Her experience of the previous year had made her case-hardened. While Lucy was not anxious to make new acquaintances, she did not like to see the others ignored. Jerry, Muriel and Marjorie had, however, been cut to the quick.
“I feel queer over it,” was Marjorie’s candid admission. “It is just as though some one had given poor old Hamilton College a hard slap. It is not according to the tradition of any really fine college to forego hospitality. Why, you will recall, Ronny, Miss Archer was telling us that one of the oldest traditions of Hamilton was ‘Remember the stranger within thy gates.’ I thought that so beautiful. Different girls I know, who have gone to college, have told me that there was always a committee of studentsto meet the principal trains and make things comfortable for entering freshmen.
“We didn’t go about matters scientifically,” Jerry asserted. “We should have seen to it that the railroad company posted a large bulletin in front of the station announcing us something like this: ‘Sanford High School takes pleasure in announcing the arrival at Hamilton, on the five-fifty train, of the following galaxy of shining stars: Veronica Browning Lynne, Millionairess; Lucy Eleanor Warner, Valedictorian, i. e., extra brilliant; Muriel Harding, Howling Beauty and Basketball Artist; Marjorie Dean, Marvelous Manager of Everyone; Jeremiah Macy, Politician and Fat Girl. A full turn out of all college societies and classes is requested in order to fitly welcome this noted quintette. Orchestra take notice. Brass Band must be present in dress uniform.’”
Jerry drew a long breath as she concluded, then giggled softly as the absurdity of her own conception struck her.
“Honestly, Jerry Macy, you are the limit. Do you or do you not care that nobody has cared enough for us to show us the ordinary college courtesies?” Muriel’s question was half laughing, half vexed.
“Oh, I am not made of wood,” Jerry retorted. “Still I am not so grieved that I won’t be able toeat my dinner, provided the doors of Wayland Hall aren’t slammed in our faces. By the way, what does this town look like? I have been so busy with our united sorrows that I forgot to inspect it.”
Jerry turned her attention to the broad, smooth street through which the taxicab was passing. They were traveling through the prettiest part of Hamilton, the handsome stone residences on each side of the street with the close-cropped stretches of lawn, denoting the presence of luxury. Against the vivid green of the grass, scarlet sage flaunted its gorgeous color in carefully laid out bed or border. Cannas, dahlias and caladiums lent tropical effect to middle-state topography. Here and there the early varieties of garden chrysanthemums were in bloom, their pink, white and bronze beauty adding to the glorious color schemes which autumn knows best how to paint. Nor did the little piles of fallen leaves that dotted the lawns, brown heaps against the green, detract from the picture.
Continuing for some distance along the street which was now claiming their attention, the car turned into another street, equally ornamental. Soon they noticed that the houses were growing farther apart and more after the fashion of country estates. There were immense sweeps of velvety lawn, shaded by trees large and small of numerous variety. The residences, too, were veritable castles. Situated farback from the thoroughfare, they were often just visible through their protecting leafy screen.
“We can’t be far from Hamilton.” It was Veronica who broke the brief silence that had fallen on them as their appreciative eyes took in the beauty spread lavishly along their route. “The Hamilton bulletin says the college is a little over two miles from the station. These beautiful country houses, that we have been passing, belong to what is called the Hamilton Estates, I imagine. The bulletin speaks of the Hamilton Estates in describing the college, you know.”
“Yes; it said that Brooke Hamilton, the founder of Hamilton College, once owned all the country around here. One of these estates is called Hamilton Arms,” supplemented Marjorie. “It said so little about this Brooke Hamilton. I would have liked to know more of his history. He must have been a true gentleman of the old school. It mentions that many of the finest traditions of Hamilton College were oft repeated sayings of his. So he must have been a noble man.”
“Well, I am only sorry that he wasn’t on hand to welcome us,” regretted Jerry, the irrepressible. “Now you needn’t be shocked at my levity. I meant seriously that he was really needed today.”
“Look!” The single word of exclamation from Lucy centered all eyes to where she was pointing.
Upon their view had burst the wide, gently undulating green slopes of Hamilton Campus. While the grounds surrounding the majority of institutions of learning are laid out with an eye to the decorative, Hamilton campus has a peculiar, living charm of its own that perhaps none other has ever possessed. It is not that its thick short grass grows any greener than that of other campuses. Still it is more pleasing to the eye. The noble growth of elm, beech and maple, shading the lawns at graceful distances apart carries a personality that one feels but can hardly express by description.
Ornamental shrubs there are in tasteful plenty, but not in profusion. It is as though nothing grows on that immense, rolling tract of land that is not necessary to the picture formed by natural beauty and intensified by intelligent landscape-gardening. Even the stately gray stone buildings, which stand out at intervals on the broad field of green, bear the same stamp of individuality.
“It is wonderful!” Lucy spoke in an awed voice. The majesty of the scene had gripped her hard.
“How beautiful!” The spell was on Ronny, too. She was gazing across the emerald stretches with half-closed, worshipping eyes. “My own dear West is wonderful, but there is something about this that touches one’s heart. I never feel quite that waywhen I look out at the mountains or the California valleys, dear as they are to me.”
“I love it all!” Marjorie’s wide brown eyes had grown larger with emotion. She was meeting for the first time one that would later be her steadfast friend, changing only from one beauty to another—Hamilton Campus.
“I cannot really help but feel that there must have been a mistake about our being ignored at the station.” Marjorie made this hopeful remark just as the taxicab passed through a wide driveway and swung into a drive that wound a circuitous course about the campus. “It is hard to believe that any student of this beloved old college wouldn’t be ready and willing to look after freshman strays like us.”
“I am afraid times have changed since Mr. Brooke Hamilton laid down the laws of courtesy,” Veronica made sceptical reply. “Beg your pardon, Sweet Marjoram, I should not have said that. I am just as much in love with Hamilton Campus as you are. I regret to say, I haven’t the same generousfaith in Hamilton’s upper classmen. There has been a shirking of duty somewhere among them. I know a receiving committee when I see one, and there was none on that station platform, for I took a good look over it. I saw a number of students greeting others that they had come to the station purposely to meet, but that is all. Sounds disagreeably positive, doesn’t it? I do not mean to be so, though.”
“I can’t blame you for the way you feel about the whole business, Ronny,” Marjorie returned. “We had all looked forward to the pleasure of being taken under the wing of a friendly upper class girl until we knew our way about a little. Well, it didn’t happen, so there is no use in my mourning or spurting or worrying about it. I am going to forget it.”
“‘’Twere wiser to forget,’” quoted Ronny. Her brief irritation vanishing, her face broke into smiling beauty. “‘Don’t give up the ship.’ That’s another quotation, appropriate to you, Marjorie. You aren’t going to let such grouches as Jeremiah and I spoil your belief in the absent sophs and juniors. The seniors usually leave the welcoming job to them. Of course, there are a few seniors who have the freshmen’s welfare upon their consciences.”
The taxicab was now slowing down for a stopbefore a handsome four-story house of gray stone. It stood on what might be termed the crest of the campus, almost on a level with a very large building, a hundred rods away, which the newcomers guessed to be Hamilton Hall. An especially roomy and ornamental veranda extended around three sides of the first story of the house. Its tasteful wicker and willow chairs and tables, and large, comfortable-looking porch swings made it appear decidedly attractive to the somewhat disillusioned arriving party. Their new home, at least, was not a disappointment.
The lawns about the house were no less beautiful with autumn glory than those they had already seen. Marjorie in particular was charmed by the profusion of chrysanthemums, the small, old-fashioned variety of garden blooms. There were thick, blossoming clumps of them at the rounding corners of the veranda. They stood in the sturdy, colorful array as borders to two wide walks that led away from entrances to the Hall on both sides. At the left of the Hall, toward the rear of it, was an oblong bed of them, looking old-fashioned enough in its compact formation to have been planted by Brooke Hamilton himself.
The drive led straight up to the house, stopping in an open space in front of the veranda, wide enough to permit an automobile to turn comfortably.It was here that the Five Travelers alighted, bag and baggage.
“I wonder if we are early at college. The place seems to be deserted. Maybe our fellow residents are at dinner. No, they are not. It is only twenty minutes past six.” Jerry consulted her wrist watch. “The Hamilton bulletin states the dinner hour at Wayland Hall to be at six-thirty until the first of November. After that six o’clock until the first of April; then back to six-thirty again.”
“It would not surprise me to hear that a good share of the students who live at Wayland Hall had not yet returned. According to our valued bulletin,—we have to fall back on it for information,—Wayland Hall is the oldest campus house. That would make it desirable in the eyes of upper class girls. We were fortunate to obtain reservations here.”
They had crossed the open space in front of the house and mounted the steps. As they reached the doorway a girl stepped out of it. So sudden was her appearance that she narrowly missed colliding with the arrivals. She had evidently hurried out of a reception room at the left of the hall. Passing through the hall or coming down the open staircase she would have seen the group before reaching the door.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she apologized, viewingthe newcomers out of a pair of very blue, non-curious eyes. “I never pay proper attention to where I am going. I was so busy thinking about an examination I must take tomorrow that I forgot where I was. I’ll have to stop now for a second to remember what I started out to do,” she added ruefully, her face breaking into a roguish smile which displayed two pronounced dimples.
Instantly the hearts of the Five Travelers warmed toward her. Her dimples brought back fond memories of Susan Atwell. She was quite a tall girl, five feet, seven inches, at least, and very slender. Her hair was a pale flaxen and fluffed out naturally, worn severely back from her low forehead though it was. Her one-piece frock of white wash satin gave her a likeness to a tall white June lily, nodding contentedly on a sturdy stem.
“I wonder if I can be of service to you,” she said quickly. Courtesy had not deserted her.Shecould, it seemed, pay proper attention to the needs of the stranger.
“I wish you would be so kind as to tell us where we will find Miss Remson. We are entering freshmen, and are to live at Wayland Hall.” Marjorie introduced herself and friends to the other girl, stating also from whence they had come.
“Oh, you are the Sanford crowd!” exclaimed the girl. “Why, Miss Weyman was to meet you at thetrain! She went down to the garage for her car. Two sophomores from her club, the Sans Soucians, were to go down with her to the five-fifty train. They left here in plenty of time for I saw them go. They must have missed making connections with you somehow. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Helen Trent of the sophomore class.”
The Lookouts having expressed their pleasure in meeting this amiable member of the sophomore class, Miss Trent led the way inside and ushered them into the reception room. It was a medium-sized room, done in two shades of soft brown and furnished with a severely beautiful set of golden oak, upholstered in brown leather. The library table was littered with current magazines, giving the apartment the appearance of a physician’s receiving room.
Seized by a sudden thought, Jerry turned to their new acquaintance and asked: “Does the Miss Weyman you spoke of drive a large gray car?”
“Why, yes.” Helen Trent opened her blue eyes a trifle wider in patent surprise. She was speculating as to whether it would be within bounds to inquire how the questioner had come by her knowledge.
Jerry saved her the interrogation. “Then we saw her, just as we drove out of the station yard. She was driving this gray car I mentioned. Itlooked to me like a French car. There must have been seven or eight girls in it besides herself.”
“It was Natalie you saw. There isn’t another car like hers here at Hamilton. It is a French car.”
Jerry turned to Marjorie, a positive grin over-spreading her plump face. “Right you were, wise Marjorie, about the mistake business. Perhaps time may restore our shattered faith in the Hamiltonites. What did you say Veronica?” She beamed mischievously at Ronny.
“I did not say a single word,” retorted Ronny. “I am glad Marjorie was right, though.”
Helen Trent stood listening, her eyes betraying frank amusement at Jerry, her dimples threatening to break out again.
“We were a little bit disappointed because not a soul spoke to us after we left the train. We had looked forward to having a few Hamilton upper classmen, if only one or two, speak to us. Perhaps we were silly to expect it. To me it seemed one of the nicest features of going to college. I said I thought there must have been a mistake about no one meeting us. That is what Geraldine meant.”
Marjorie made this explanation with the candor of a child. Her brown eyes met Helen’s so sweetly and yet so steadfastly, as she talked, that the sophomore thought her the prettiest girl she had everseen. Helen’s sympathies had enlisted toward the entire five. Even Lucy Warner had struck her as a girl of great individuality. A slow smile touched the corners of her lips, seemingly the only outward manifestation of some inner cogitation that was mildly amusing.
“I am glad, too, that it was a mistake,” she said, her face dropping again into its soft placidity. “We wish our freshmen friends to think well of us. We sophs are only a year ahead of you. It is particularly our duty to help the freshmen when first they come to Hamilton. I would have gone down to the station today to meet you but Natalie Weyman took it upon herself. I have this special exam to take. I have been preparing for it this summer. It is in trigonometry. I failed in that subject last term and had to make it up this vacation. I only hope I pass in it tomorrow. Br-r-r-r! the very idea makes me shiver.”
“I hope you will, I am sure.” It was Ronny who expressed this sincere wish. She had quickly decided that she approved of Helen Trent. Certainly there was nothing snobbish about her. She showed every mark of gentle breeding.
“I am afraid we may be keeping you from what you were about to do when we stopped you.” Lucy Warner had stepped to the fore much to the secret amazement of her friends. A stickler for duty,Lucy’s training as secretary had taught her the value of time. During that period that she spent in Miss Archer’s office, her own time had been so seriously encroached upon that she had made a resolution never to waste that of others.
“Oh, no; I can pick up my own affairs again, later. None of them are important except my exam, and I am not going to worry over that. If you will excuse me, I will go and find Miss Remson. She will assign you to your rooms. Dinner is on now. There goes the bell. It is later this one week; at a quarter to seven, on account of returning students. It’s on until a quarter to eight. Beginning next week, it will be on at precisely half-past six and off at half-past seven. After that you go hungry, or else to Baretti’s or the Colonial. Both are quite near here. No more explanation now, but action.”
With a pleasant little nod the sophomore left the reception room in search of Miss Remson, the manager of Wayland Hall. She left behind her, however, an atmosphere of friendliness and cheer that went far toward dispelling the late cloud of having been either purposely or carelessly overlooked.
“Yes; to be sure. I have the correspondence from all of you Sanford girls. I think there has been no mistake concerning your rooms. Just a moment.”
Miss Remson, a small, wiry-looking woman with a thin, pleasant face and partially gray hair, bustled to a door, situated at the lower end of the room. Thrown open, it disclosed a small, inner apartment, evidently doing duty as the manager’s office. Seating herself before a flat-topped oak desk, she opened an upper drawer and took from it a fat, black, cloth-covered book. Consulting it, she rose and returned with it in her hand.
“Miss Dean and Miss Macy made application for one room together, Miss Harding for a single room, provided a classmate, who expected to enter Wellesley, did not change her mind in favor of Hamilton. In that case she would occupy the room with Miss Harding. Miss Lynne applied for a single and afterward made request that Miss Warner might share it with her. Am I correct?”
The manager spoke in an alert tone, looking up with a slight sidewise slant of her head that reminded Marjorie of a bird.
“That is the way we meant it to be. I hope there have been no changes in the programme.” Jerry had constituted herself spokesman.
“None, whatever. I have a request to make of Miss Harding.” Unerringly she picked out Muriel, though Marjorie had only gone over their names to her once by way of general introduction. “Would you be willing to take a room-mate? We have so many applications for Wayland Hall to which we simply can pay no attention save to return the word ‘no room.’ This particular application of which I speak has been made by a junior, Miss Hortense Barlow. She was at Wayland Hall during her freshman year, but left here to room with a friend at Acasia House during her sophomore year. Her friend was a junior then and was therefore graduated last June. Miss Barlow is most anxious to return to this house.”
Muriel looked rather blank at this disclosure. She was not at all anxious for a room-mate, unless it were a Lookout, which was out of the question.
“I hardly know yet whether I should care to take a room-mate,” she said, with a touch of hesitation. “I will decide tonight and let you know tomorrow morning. Will that be satisfactory?”
“Perfectly, perfectly,” responded Miss Remson, and waved her hand as though urbanely to dismiss the subject. “I will show you young women to your rooms myself. Dinner, this week, is from a quarter to seven until a quarter to eight.” She repeated the information already given them by Helen Trent. “That means that no one will be admitted to the dining room after a quarter to eight. We are making special allowances now on account of returning students.”
With this she led the way out of the reception room and up the stairs. Down the hall of the second story she went, with a brisk little swishing of her black taffeta skirt that reminded Marjorie more then ever of a bird. At the last door on the left of the hall she paused.
“This is the room Miss Lynne and Miss Warner are to occupy,” she announced. “Directly across find the room Miss Macy and Miss Dean are to occupy.” She turned abruptly and indicated the door opposite. “Miss Harding’s room is on the third floor. I will conduct you to it, Miss Harding. I trust you will like your new quarters, young ladies, and be happy in them.”
Immediately she turned with “Follow me, Miss Harding,” and was off down the hall. It was a case of go without delay or lose her guide. Making a funny little grimace behind the too-brisk manager’sback, Muriel called, “See you later,” and set off in haste after Miss Remson. She had already reached the foot of the staircase leading to the third story.
“She’s the busiest busybody ever, isn’t she?” remarked Jerry. Marjorie, Ronny and Lucy at her back, she opened the door of her room and stepped over the threshold. “Hmm!” she next held forth. “This place may not be the lap of luxury, but it is not so bad. I don’t see my pet Circassian walnut set or my dear comfy old window seat, with about a thousand, more or less, nice downy pillows. Still it’s no barn. I only hope those couch beds are what they ought to be, a place on which to sleep. They’re more ornamental to a room than the regulation bed. I suppose that’s why they’re here.”
“Stop making fun of things, you goose, and let’s get the dust washed off our hands and faces before we go down to dinner. I am smudgy, and also very hungry, and it is almost seven o’clock,” Marjorie warned. “We haven’t a minute to lose. A person as methodical as Miss Remson would close the dining room door in our faces if we were a fraction of a minute late.”
“Don’t doubt it. Good-bye.” Veronica made a dive for her quarters followed by Lucy.
“You and Iwillcertainly have to hurry,” agreed Jerry, as she returned from the lavatory nearlytwenty minutes later. Marjorie, who had preceded her, was just finishing the redressing of her hair. It rippled away from her forehead and broke into shining little curls about her ears and at the nape of her neck. Her eyes bright with the excitement of new surroundings and her cheeks aglow from her recent ablutions, her loveliness was startling.
“I won’t have time to do my hair over again,” Jerry lamented. “It will have to go as it is. Are you ready? Come on, then. We’ll stop for Ronny and Lucy. What of Muriel? Last seen she was piking off after Miss Busy Buzzy. Hasn’tshethe energy though? B-z-z-z-z! Away she goes. I hope she never hears me call her that. I might go to the foot of the stairway and howl ‘Muriel’ but that would hardly be well-bred.”
“She will probably stop for us. You can’t lose Muriel.” Marjorie was still smiling over Jerry’s disrespectful name for the manager. “For goodness’ sake, Jerry, be careful about calling her that. Don’t let it go further than among the Five Travelers. We understand that it is just your funny self. If some outsider heard it and you tried to explain yourself—well, you couldn’t.”
“I know that all too well, dear old Mentor. I’ll be careful. Don’t worry about me, as little Charlie Stevens says after he has run away and Gray Gables has been turned upside down hunting him.I presume that is Muriel now.” A decided rapping sent Jerry hurrying to the door. About to make some humorous remark to Muriel concerning her late hasty disappearance, she caught herself in time. Three girls were grouped outside the door but they were not the expected trio of Lookouts.