“Good evening,” Jerry managed to say politely, amazed though she was at the unlooked-for callers.
“Good evening,” came the prompt response from the foremost girl, spoken in a cool velvety tone that somehow suggested patronage. “Are you Miss Dean?”
“No, I am Miss Macy. Miss Dean is my room-mate. She is here. Will you come in?”
“Thank you.” The caller stepped into the room, her two companions at her heels. She was a young woman of about the same height as Marjorie and not unlike her in coloring, save that her eyes were a bluish gray, shaded by long dark lashes, her eyebrows heavily marked. Her hair, a paler brown than Marjorie’s, suggested in arrangement a hairdresser’sart rather than that of natural beauty, pleasing though the coiffure was. Her frock of pale pink and white effects in silk net and taffeta was cut short enough of sleeve and low enough of neck to permit the white shapeliness of her arms and shoulders to be seen. While her features might be called regular, a close observer would have pronounced her mouth, in repose, a shade too small for the size of her face, and her chin a trifle too pointed.
Standing as she was where the electric lights, which Jerry had recently switched on, played upon her, she made an undeniably attractive picture. Marjorie recognized her instantly as the girl she had seen driving the gray car. One of her companions was a small, dark girl with very black eyes and a sulky mouth. She was wearing a gown of Nile green pongee, heavily trimmed with expensive ecru lace. It gave her the appearance of being actually weighed down. The third of the callers Marjorie took an instant dislike toward. She represented a type of girl that Marjorie had rarely seen and never encountered at Sanford High School.
While her companions were attired in evening frocks, she was wearing a sports suit of a white woolly material that was a marvel as to cut and finish. The white silk velour sports hat, the heavy white silk stockings and fine, stitched buckskin ties that completed her costume were the acme of distinctiveexpense. Despite her carefully chosen apparel, she was very near to possessing an ugliness of face and feature which no amount of smart clothes could mitigate. Her hair, such as could be seen of it from under her hat, was coarse and black. Small, shrewd brown eyes, which had a trick of half closing, high cheek bones, a rather retroussé nose and a large, loose-lipped mouth completed an outer personality that Marjorie found unprepossessing in the extreme. Last of the three to enter the room, she had closed the door and now stood almost lounging against it, eyeing Marjorie with a smile that suggested bored tolerance.
“I am Marjorie Dean.” Immediately she heard her name, Marjorie had come forward. She guessed that the girl of the gray car had come to offer an apology for her non-appearance. Memory furnishing her with the spokesman’s name, she held out her hand courteously, saying: “Your are Miss Weyman, are you not? Won’t you and your friends sit down?”
Into Natalie Weyman’s darkening eyes flared an expression of affronted surprise. The little dark girl also showed surprise, while the girl in the sports suit drew down the corners of her wide mouth as though she had heard something funny but dared not laugh outright.
“Yes, I am Natalie Weyman.” Whatever herthoughts were her tones were still velvety. “I am a sophomore and these are my sophy pals, Miss Vale and Miss Cairns.” She indicated first the small girl, then the lounger. Both sophomores bowed nonchalantly and lightly clasped the hand Marjorie extended to each in turn.
“This is my room-mate and very dear friend, Geraldine Macy.” Marjorie now took her turn at introducing.
Jerry bowed and shook hands with the trio, but exhibited no enthusiasm. She was inwardly raging at them for having chosen a time so inopportune for making a call. She felt like shouting out in a loud, terrifying voice: “Have you had your dinner? Well, we haven’t had ours. Now beat it, all of you!”
Introductions over, the callers sat down. Miss Weyman dropped gracefully into the nearest easy chair, of which the room could count two. The others seated themselves, side by side, on one of the couch beds. Hardly had they done so when a second rapping was heard. This time it was Veronica, Lucy and Muriel. Marjorie opened the door and said quickly: “Come in, girls. I wish you to meet three members of the sophomore class who have done us the honor to call.”
Involuntarily Veronica’s eloquent eyebrows went up in surprise. Lucy’s green eyes took on a peculiargleam, and Muriel felt displeasure rising within her. It seemed too bad that, after being neglected, they should be thus sought before they had had time to get their dinner. The long ride on the train had left them hungry. Still, there was nothing to be done save make the best of it. How long the callers had been in Marjorie’s and Jerry’s room, Muriel could not know. If they took prompt leave the Sanford five could still get into the dining room before it closed. It was twenty minutes to eight. She had looked at her watch while Ronny was rapping on the door.
After further introductions Miss Weyman said sweetly: “I have an apology to make Miss Dean. Consider it as being made to all of you. I was to meet you at the train today, and unfortunately I started a little later than I had intended. I belong to a club which a few of the freshmen started last year. All the girls who are members were friends of mine before I entered Hamilton. We attended a very private preparatory school and entered college together. We call ourselves the San Soucians and our club is limited to eighteen members. We do not intend to pass it on after we are graduated from Hamilton. It is really only a little social club of our own. Of course, wetryto be considerate toward the other students here, as in the case of welcoming the freshmen.”
“Every one was so perfectly sweet to us last year when we entered Hamilton.” Miss Vale now raised a voice in the conversation. “You see we came from New York to Hamilton in my father’s private car. My father is president of the L. T. and M. Railroad. We had not thought much about being met at the train by the upper classmen. Iwishyou might haveseenthe crowd that was there to meet us! Girls fromall three classesturned out. We had a smart old celebration, I can tell you.” Her sulky mouth lost its droop as she went on to describe boastingly the glories of that particular reception. She ended with: “What prep. school do you come from?”
Informed by Jerry that the Five Travelers were graduated from high school, she glanced pityingly about the Sanford group, and subsided with: “I really know nothing at all about high schools. I did not suppose you could enter college from one.”
“Of course one can.” Veronica spoke with an energy that her friends understood, if the callers did not. “Let me ask you a question. Were you obliged to try entrance examinations to Hamilton College?”
“Ye—s.” The reply came a little slowly.
“We are not obliged to take examinations. The senior course in our high school comprises collegiate subjects. Our diplomas will admit us to anycollege in the United States. So you see that high school has at least that advantage,” Ronny concluded evenly.
“I have heard that some of those high schools are really excellent,” drawled Miss Cairns. “I have heard too that they turn out a lot of digs and prigs. Girls, you understand, that have to get all they can out of high school because college is out of the question for them. I feel sorry for them. I never knew any of that sort, though. In fact, you are the first high school girls I have ever met. What?” She turned to Natalie Weyman.
The latter, however, was paying little attention to the conversation. Her gaze had rested almost uninterruptedly on Marjorie since she had entered the room. From the discomfited lieutenant’s lovely face to her slender, graceful figure, clothed in a one-piece frock of dark blue crêpe de chine, the other girl’s eyes wandered, only to turn themselves away for a moment, then begin a fresh inspection.
Meanwhile time was flying, the Five Travelers were growing minutely hungrier, yet the visitors made no move to go. Miss Weyman had gone no further than to explain that she had started for the train a little late. This apology did not coincide with what Helen Trent had said. None of the Lookouts had forgottenherremarks on the subject. It was in each girl’s mind that she preferredto believe Helen. This did not argue well as to a future friendship with Natalie Weyman. None of them could endure even the shadow of untruth.
“Please pardon me for breaking into my apology with an explanation of our club.” Her inspection of Marjorie over for the present, Natalie returned to the original object of her call. “I meant to say that by the time I had reached the station you had gone on to Wayland Hall, I suppose.”
“We drove away from the station in a taxicab just as your car drove into the yard.” Muriel fixed the lamely apologetic sophomore with a steady gaze. Her brown eyes appeared to be taking the other’s measure.
“Did you, indeed,” Natalie returned somewhat hastily. It was beginning to dawn upon her that she did not in the least like any of these freshmen. They were entirely too independent to suit her. Recalling that which she had been aching to ask when Marjorie had asked her if she were Miss Weyman, she now questioned almost rudely: “How did you know whoIwas when you saw me at the station?”
“We did not know who you were then,” explained Muriel. “We merely saw a gray car full of girls. Miss Macy said it looked like a French car. Afterward, we met a delightful sophomore, Miss Trent.In talking with her, she mentioned that you had gone to the station to meet us.”
“Oh, yes. Miss Trent. She was on the veranda when we left here.” She looked toward Miss Cairns for corroboration. The latter nodded slightly and made an almost imperceptible gesture with her left hand.
“We are so sorry we missed you, at any rate.” Miss Vail took it upon herself to do a share of the apologizing. At the same time she rose from her seat on the couch bed. “How do you like the table here?” she queried condescendingly. “We find it better than last year. Remson has a new cook now. She can see the other cook silly when it comes to eats.”
A peculiar silence ensued as Miss Vale’s high-pitched tones ceased. It had been forced upon the Lookouts to defer an opinion of said “table” until the next day. They were certainly at present in no position to make a statement.
“As we have been here so short a time we can’t pass an opinion on a thing at Wayland Hall yet.” Marjorie answered for her friends, not daring to look toward any of them.
“Naturally not,” agreed Miss Cairns suavely. “Mind if we leave you now? We really must go, Nat. We had our dinner at Baretti’s tonight.Some of the Sans are waiting at the Colonial for us. We are going on there for dessert.”
“Yes, the gang will wonder what has become of us.” Natalie now got to her feet. She favored the Lookouts with a smile, which was intended to be gracious, but utterly lacked sincerity. Her pals already at the door, she joined them. This time there was no handshaking. While it would not have been necessary, a truly sincere bevy of girls would have undoubtedly shaken hands and enjoyed that act of fellowship.
“Thank you for remembering us at the station today, even though we did miss connections. We appreciate your coming to call on us this evening, too. Freshmen are very lowly persons at college until they have won their spurs on the field of college honors. We shall try not to be an annoyance to our sophomore sisters.”
Marjorie tried conscientiously to put aside all trace of irritation as she made this little speech. She realized that her chums had left it to her to handle the situation. While they had all exchanged a certain amount of conversation with the visitors, they had run out from sheer lack of sympathy. The callers had aroused belligerence in Jerry, Ronny and Muriel. Lucy Warner had fairly congealed with dislike. Marjorie had alone stayed on an even keel.
Perhaps the unfailing courtesy of the tired, hungry lieutenant made some slight impression on the departing sophomores. Halfway out the door as Marjorie answered, Natalie Weyman had the grace to say: “You really haven’t anything to thank us for, Miss Dean. Wait until we do something for you, worth while. We will drop in on you again when we have more time. Good night.”
She had been on the point of offering her hand at the last, stirred out of her usual self-centeredness by Marjorie’s gentle manners. Then she had looked again at the freshman’s exquisite face, and fellowship had died before birth. Natalie Weyman was considered a beauty at home, in New York City, and at Hamilton College. She had at last seen a girl whom she considered fully as pretty as herself. As a result she was now very, very jealous.
“Can you beat it? Uh-h-h-h!” Jerry dropped with angry force into the arm chair which Natalie Weyman had so recently vacated. “What was the matter with those girls, anyway? How could they help but know that we hadn’t had our dinner? Itwas after six o’clock when we reached here. It took time to get hold of Busy Buzzy and be assigned to our rooms, and more time to make ourselves presentable. Why couldn’t they have figured out that much? Next step in our process of deduction; they came to the door about twenty minutes past seven. Now how could we have had time to go down stairs, eat our dinner and be back in our room again?”
“The answer is, they didn’t do any deducing,” declared Muriel. “I suppose they simply chose their own time to call.”
“A very inconvenient time, I must say,” grumbled Jerry. “Here’s another point that needs clearing up. If that Miss Weyman drove her car down to the station, expecting to bring the five of us back in it, why was it cram-jam full of girls?”
“They may have been friends of hers who merely wanted to ride down to the station, Jerry,” surmised Ronny. “Why trouble your brain about our callers now? Let us think about where we are going to have our dinner. The dining room is closed, of course. We shall have to call on the hospitable Baretti for sustenance. He’s hospitable if his restaurant is still open. Otherwise, I don’t think much of him.”
“First thing to do is to find out where he holds forth. I hope the place is not far from here. I’mso hungry and so tired.” Marjorie spoke with a tired kind of patience that ended in a yawn. “We had better start out at once. We’ll probably find some one downstairs who can direct us.”
The others no less hungry, the Five Travelers lost no more time in getting downstairs, preferring to leave the subject of their recent callers until a time more convenient for discussion. At the foot of the stairs they encountered two girls about to ascend.
“Good evening. Will you please direct us to Baretti’s?” It was Ronny who asked the question in a clear, even tone that, while courteous, was so strictly impersonal as to be almost cool. Having just encountered a trio of girls whom she had instantly set down as snobs, Ronny had donned her armor.
“Good evening.” Both girls returned the salutation. The taller of the two, a sandy-haired young woman with sleepy gray eyes, a square chin and freckles now became spokesman. “You will find Baretti’s about a square from the west wall of the campus. Turn to your right as you pass out the main gate.”
“There is the Colonial, too, about two squares beyond Baretti’s,” informed the other, a pretty girl in a ruffled gown of apricot organdie that accentuated the black silkiness of her hair which lay off her low forehead in little soft rings.
“Thank you.” Ronny modified the crispness of her tone a trifle. “We shall not care to go further than Baretti’s tonight. May I ask what time the restaurant closes?”
“Ten o’clock.” The gray-eyed girl seemed on the point of volunteering a remark. She half-opened her lips, then closed them almost tightly as if repenting of the impulse.
With a second “Thank you” a shade cooler than the first, Ronny concluded the brief interview. The four Lookouts had walked toward the Hall door, which stood open, and there paused to wait for her. Ordinarily, Ronny would have addressed the strangers with a certain graciousness of manner which was one of her charms. She had relaxed a little from her first reserve on the strength of their apparent willingness to direct her to Baretti’s. She had not missed, however, the gray-eyed girl’s deliberate checking of her own purposed remark. While she forebore to place an adverse construction upon it, nevertheless it had annoyed her. Trace of a frown lingered between her dark brows as she joined the others.
“I noticed you didn’t get very chummy with that pair,” greeted Jerry. “Just so you located our commissary department, Baretti. He’s our star of hope at present.” Jerry led the way across the veranda and down the steps.
“I know the way to Baretti’s, never fear,” Ronny assured. “It is one square from the west wall of the campus. Just how much of a walk that means, we shall see. It may be anywhere from a quarter to three-quarters of a mile to the west wall. We turn to our right as we go through the gateway.”
“We will have to walk it, even if it is a mile,” decreed Muriel. “I’d walk two miles for something to eat. I am about as hungry as I can ever remember of being. Our introduction to Hamilton!Good night!”
“I can’t get it through my head that we are actually students at Hamilton College,” declared Muriel. “I feel more as though I had just arrived at a summer hotel where people came and went without the slightest interest in one another.”
“It is missing dinner at the Hall that makes it seem so. If we had had a fair chance at the dining room we would have felt more——” Jerry paused to choose a word descriptive of their united feelings. “Well, we would have felt cinched to Hamilton. That nice Miss Trent helped us, of course, but she faded away and disappeared the minute she turned us over to Miss Remson. I don’t believe we can be, what you might call, fascinating. No one seems to care to linger near us. Wouldn’t that be a splendid title for one of those silly old popular songs? ‘No one cares to linger near,’ as sung bythe great always off the key vocalist, Jerry Macy. Wh-ir-r! Bu-z-z-z! What has happened to you swe-e-etart, that you do not linger near-r-r? I am lonele-e-e——”
Jerry’s imitation of a phonograph rendering a popular song of her own impromptu composition ended suddenly. Muriel placed a defensive hand over the singer’s mouth. “Have mercy on us, Jeremiah,” she begged. “You are at Hamilton now. Try to act like some one. That’s the advice I heard one of the mill women give her unruly son at the nursery one day last winter.”
“I trust no one but ourselves heard you,” was Veronica’s uncomplimentary addition, delivered in a tone of shocked disapproval.
“I don’t blame anyone for not caring to linger near such awful sounds.” Lucy’s criticism, spoken in her precise manner, produced a burst of low-keyed laughter. It appeared to amuse Jerry most of all.
By this time they had passed through the gateway, flanked by high, ornamental stone posts, and were following a fairly wide, beaten footpath that shone white in the light shed by the rising moon. On their right hand side, the college wall of matched gray stone rose considerably above their heads.
“This wall must be at least ten feet high and about three or four thick.” Jerry calculatinglyappraised the wall. “It extends the whole around the campus, so far as I could tell by daylight. I was noticing it as we came into the grounds today.”
“We are not so far from the end of it now.” Marjorie made the announcement with a faint breath of relief. “You can see the corner post from here. I think it about a quarter of a mile from the gate.”
“And only a square from it lies our dinner, thank goodness! Let’s run.” Muriel made a pretended dash forward and was promptly checked by Jerry. “You wouldn’t let me sing. Now you need a clamp. I’ll give you a piece of advice I heard last winter at that same old nursery: ‘Walk pretty. Don’t be runnin’ yourse’f all over the place.’”
“There is Baretti’s across the road.” Marjorie pointed down the road a little, to where, on the opposite side, two posts, topped by cluster electric lights, rose on each side of a fairly wide stone walk that was the approach to the restaurant. It stood fully a hundred feet from the highway, an odd, one-story structure of brown stone, looking like an inn of a bygone period. In sharp contrast to the white radiance of the guide lights at the end of the walk, the light over the doorway was faint and yellow, proceeding from a single lamp, set in a curiouswrought-iron frame, which depended from a bell-like hood over the door.
Through the narrow-paned windows streamed the welcome glow of light within. It warmed the hearts of the Five Travelers even as in departed days it had gladdened the eyes of weary wayfarers in search of purchased hospitality.
“What an odd old place!” Lucy Warner cried out in admiration. “It is like the ancient hostelries one reads of. I wonder if it has always been an inn. It must be considerably over a hundred years old.”
“I suppose it is. A good deal of the country around here is historic, I believe. You remember the bulletin said Brooke Hamilton was a young man at the time of La Fayette’s visit to America. That was in 1824. He and La Fayette met and the Marquis was so delighted with him that he invited him to join his suite of friends during his tour of the country. I wish it had said more about both of them, but it didn’t,” finished Marjorie regretfully.
“Perhaps the old Marquis de la Fayette and young Brooke Hamilton walked down the very road we walked tonight and supped at the same old inn,” Veronica said, as they approached the two wide, low steps that formed the entrance to the restaurant.
“Quite likely they did,” agreed Jerry. The foremostof the party, she opened the heavy, paneled door of solid oak.
A faint, united breath of approbation rose from the visitors as they stepped into a room of noble proportions. It was almost square and as beautiful an apartment as the girls had ever seen. Beam ceiling, wainscoting and floor were all of precisely the same shade and quality of dark oak. So perfectly did every foot of wood in the room match that it might have all come from one giant tree, hewn out and polished by gnomes. There was something about its perfection that suggested a castle hall of fairy lore. On each side of the room were three high-backed, massive oak benches. The tops of these were decorated by a carved oak leaf pattern, the simplicity of which was the design of genius itself. The heavy, claw-legged oak tables, oval in shape and ten in number, all bore the same pattern, carved in the table top at about two inches from the edge. There was no attempt at placing the tables in rows. They stood at intervals far enough apart to permit easy passage in and out among them. Yet each table seemed fitted into its own proper space. Moved two inches out of it, the whole scheme of artistic regularity would have been spoiled.
“It’s evident that Signor Baretti never furnished this room,” commented Ronny in a voice just abovea whisper. “I never saw anything like it, before! never! Lead me to a seat at one of those beautiful tables.”
“Yes; do let us sit down as soon as we can,” echoed Muriel eagerly. “I am dying to look and look and look at everything in this adorable old room. I am glad it is almost empty. We can sit and stare and no one will be here to resent it.”
This time it was Muriel who took the lead and made a bee-line for a table at the far end of the room on the right. The others followed her, quickly slipping into the oak chairs, each with its spade-shaped, high back and fairly broad seat. That these chairs were built for comfort as well as ornament the Lookouts soon discovered.
“Oh, the joy of this comfy chair,” sighed Ronny. “It actually fits my back. That’s more than I can say of those train seats. I am going to turn in the minute I am back at Wayland House. I amsotired, and a little bit sleepy.”
Marjorie and Ronny shared one menu, while each of the others had one to herself. After the usual amount of comment and consultation, all decided upon consommé, roast chicken, potatoes au gratin, and a salad, with dessert and coffee to follow. Their order given to a round-faced, olive-tinted Italian girl, the Five Travelers were free to look about them for a little.
Directly across from them at a table which formed a wide obtuse angle with theirs were four girls. While the quartette had appeared to be occupied in eating ices on the entrance into the restaurant of the Sanford party, no move of the strangers had been lost on them. Four pairs of young eyes covertly appraised the newcomers. That the Five Travelers interested the other girls was clearly proven by the frequency of their glances, discreetly veiled. Deep in the exploration of the menu, the Sanford quintette were unaware that they had attracted any special attention from the diners at the one other occupied table in the room. Nevertheless, while they were busy with the ordering of their dinner, they were being subjected to a most critical survey.
By the time the consommé was served, the other group had finished the eating of their ices and risen to depart. As they left the table Marjorie glanced impersonally toward them. A sudden wave of color deepened the pink in her cheeks as she encountered four pairs of unfamiliar eyes all fastened on her. Immediately she looked away, annoyed with herself, rather than them for staring. Nor had she gained a definite idea of the appearance of any one of them, so keen was her own momentary discomfiture.
Regarding herself and her chums, the departingdiners had a very clear idea. Hardly had they stepped outside the restaurant when a low buzz of conversation began.
“Leila Harper, did you ever see anyone lovelier than that brown-eyed freshie?” inquired one of the quartette, a tall, stately girl with pale gold hair and a rather thin, interesting face. “The one in dark blue, I mean.”
“No; I see a certain someone’s finish, don’t you?” The girl who made the reply smiled as though signally amused. In the light cast by the powerful post lights, the faces of her companions reflected that amused smile. “I could have shrieked for joy when that crowd of freshmen walked in with Beauty in their midst,” she continued. “They were all very pretty girls, Selma. I really think we ought to take up the matter and have some fun over it.”
“Incidentally, it would pull someone off a pedestal where she never truly belonged. I never considered Natalie Weyman arealbeauty. She is pretty, but rather artificial, I think.” The author of this criticism was an attractive young woman with wavy chestnut hair and deep blue eyes, the beauty of which was partly obscured by eyeglasses.
“I don’t admire Miss Weyman’s style of good looks, either, Nella.” This from the fourth memberof the party, a small girl with pale brown hair, pale blue eyes, with very dark brows and lashes, and a skin dazzlingly white. Standing five feet one in high heels, Vera Mason was noticeable for her doll-like daintiness of form and feature. She was not beautiful, so far as regularity of feature went, for her small nose turned up a trifle and her mouth was too wide to be classically perfect. She was, however, singularly charming.
“I had rather call you a beauty any time than apply it to her, Midget,” was Leila Harper’s quick return. Her eyes of true Irish blue twinkled as she said this. Suddenly she threw back her head and laughed aloud, showing white even teeth, their very soundness matching the rest of her strong-featured face and blue-black hair. Leila was of old Irish stock and very proud of it.
“Oh, girls, I have it; a plan I mean!” she exclaimed. “Now listen to the wise Irish woman and you’ll agree with me that there’s nothing that could fit the occasion more nearly than what I have in mind. It will do wonders in the way of curing Nat Weyman’s swelled head and no one can possibly say it isn’t fair.”
Four abreast in the moonlight, the sophomores who had so heartily admired Marjorie strolled back to the campus, listening as they went to a planLeila was unfolding which appeared to afford them much anticipatory delight.
Meanwhile at the quaint old inn the Five Travelers were hungrily disposing of a comforting meal, wholly unconscious of being already a subject for discussion among a certain group of sophomores. It was as well for Marjorie’s peace of mind that she did not know she had already been acclaimed a beauty at Hamilton College. Neither could the four sophomores, who were thoughtlessly planning the merited discomfiture of one girl through the raising up of another, know what a difference the carrying out of that plan would make in Marjorie Dean’s life at Hamilton College.
Not very long after the Five Travelers returned to Wayland Hall the half-past ten o’clock bell sounded. Desirous of complying with the rules of the college from the start, they had prepared for sleep in much greater haste than usual, a proceeding which Veronica deplored most of all. Accustomed to making leisurely preparations for retiring, shehad known beforehand that this would be her chief annoyance when at college.
For fully twenty-five minutes after the penetrating clang of the house bell had ceased, sound of voices and light footsteps in the hall indicated that a few students, at least, were not taking the ten-thirty rule very seriously.
“What was that?” Jerry, who had dropped to sleep almost on the instant her head had found the pillow, started up in the darkness, awakened by the sharp slam of a door further down the hall.
“Oh, someone slammed a door,” Marjorie replied sleepily. “I was almost asleep, but not quite. It startled me, too. There seems to be very little attention paid to the retiring bell in this house. I’ve heard the girls talking and laughing in the halls ever since it rang. It’s quieter now. I imagine next week it will be different. College doesn’t really open until Monday, you know.”
“Busy Buzzy doesn’t look as though she would stand for much noise. She’ll begin laying down the law about next week. I hope whoever slammed that door hasn’t the habit. Well, what now!”
From somewhere out on the campus the musical rhythm of chimes had begun. They played the quarter, the half, the three-quarters of the hour, then sweetly and clearly the stroke of eleven followed. Listening to it, Marjorie felt a strange newpeace of mind steal over her. Longfellow’s understanding lines:
“The night shall be filled with music,And the cares that infest the day,Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,And silently steal away.”
The silvery tones had a vastly soothing effect upon her troubled spirit. Altogether, it had been one of the most dispiriting days she had ever lived. She now hailed the ringing of the chimes as a kind of lullaby to her cares. Here was a second friend of whom she was sure she could never grow tired.
“That’s eleven o’clock. Didn’t those chimes sound pretty? I suppose that’s the end of the limit bell here at Hamilton. If you aren’t in bed when the chimes play eleven, you are a disgrace to your Alma Mater. If you aren’t asleep by that time, well—you can hear ’em. I’ve heard them, I’m going to sleep this minute. Night, Sweet Marjoram.”
“Good night, Jeremiah.” Marjorie lay awake for a little, her thoughts on her father and mother. She knew that they were thinking of her and a sense of soothing warmth enfolded her, born of the knowledge of their steadfast adoration.
Marjorie awakened next morning to find the sun in her eyes and herself not quite certain of whereshe was. She glanced across the room to where Jerry’s couch was situated. It was without an occupant. “Oh!” she exclaimed in consternation. Her eyes hastily sought the mission wall clock. It was only ten minutes to seven. Reassured, she lay still and viewed the room by broad daylight. The furnishings were pretty and comfortable. The color scheme of the room was delft blue. The walls were papered in a white mica-stripe with a plain white ceiling. A wide, ragged border of bachelor’s buttons added vastly to the dainty effect. The two wash-stands, chiffoniers and dressing tables had Japanese covers of white stamped in blue figures. The hard-wood floor was covered by a velvet rug in three shades of blue, and the couch covers were also in indeterminate blues. There were two easy chairs, one willow rocker and two straight cane-seated chairs. A good sized library table occupied the center of the room. It was of black walnut and an antique. At each end of the room was a door opening into a closet, large enough to permit the hanging of wearing apparel without crowding. All the necessary effects having been provided, it remained to the occupants to supply their own individual decorations.
The entrance into the room of Jerry, her round face rosy from her morning scrub, brought Marjorie’s inspection of her new “house” to an end.
“I’ve been looking at our new room ever since I woke up,” saluted Marjorie. “It is pretty, I think. I am not used to blue, though. It matches you better than me, Jerry.”
“Yes, I see it does. It’s large enough for the furniture, without crowding. That’s what I like about it. I believe——”
The silver-tongued chimes cut into Jerry’s speech, ringing out a live little prelude before striking seven. Came the striking of the hour, a slow, measured salute to the sunny autumn morning.
“You may politely say ‘excuse me,’ next time you butt into my conversation.” Jerry nodded an admonishing head in the direction from whence the musical sounds had come. “Funny I didn’t hear those chimes at six o’clock. I was awake.”
“Maybe they don’t play them every hour,” suggested Marjorie. “I remember when we were living in B—— an Episcopal Church near where we lived had a set of chimes installed. They started out by having them played every hour. It annoyed the nearby residents so much that they finally rang them only at six o’clock in the evening and on special occasions. They never bothered General and Captain and me. We were sorry to lose them. It was like meeting some one I hadn’t heard of in a long while to hear those good old bells last night. There are two things I love already about Hamilton.One is the campus; the other is the chimes.”
“I agree with you about the campus. I don’t know yet about the chimes. Familiarity with them may breed anything but admiration.” Jerry was only jesting. Such was her nature that she shied at the proximity of sentiment. She had it in her to be sure, but she kept it hidden far beneath the surface.
“You had better hurry along to your bath,” she now advised. “By half-past seven the lavatory will become suddenly very popular.”
“I’m going this minute.” Marjorie had already donned a negligee and was hastily thrusting her feet into quilted satin slippers.
As she stepped from her room into the hall, a door on the opposite side, above the room occupied by Lucy and Ronny, swung open with a jerk. On the threshold appeared Natalie Weyman. She was evidently in a bad humor, for her heavy brows were sharply drawn in an ugly scowl. Her eyes happening to light on Marjorie, her face grew perceptibly darker. With a smothered exclamation, she disappeared into her room again, banging the door. She had not even attempted a “good morning,” but had stared at Marjorie as though she had never seen her before.
Not in the least impressed, Marjorie continued imperturbably toward the lavatory. She had madetwo discoveries, however. She knew now who had slammed the door on the previous night. She knew, too, that Natalie Weyman had no real feeling of friendliness toward her. She had heard enough from the three callers of the evening before to arraign them in her mind as leaning very hard toward snobbishness. If they were snobs, she wished to keep far away from them. Further, she had no intention of regarding Miss Weyman’s call as anything but a duty-prompted affair. Not one of the three young women had extended an informal invitation to the Five Travelers to visit them in their rooms. If the select Sans Soucians expected to see herself and chums go out of their way to please, they would be disappointed.
In the lavatory she encountered the two students of whom Ronny had made inquiry regarding Baretti’s. The black-haired girl looked at her, then nodded pleasantly. Marjorie returned the salutation with a half-shy smile which the square-chinned, sandy-haired girl shrewdly noted. Regarding Marjorieintently for an instant, very deliberately she stretched forth a hand.
“Good morning,” she said, in a rather deep voice for a girl. “Did you have any trouble finding Baretti’s?”
“Not a bit, thank you.” This time Marjorie’s smile broke forth in all its sunny beauty. “We might have lost our way if we had not met you. We saw some girls in the rustic house as we left the Hall, but we met no others. If we had tried to find it ourselves, and turned to the left instead of the right, I don’t know where we would have landed.”
“Not anywhere near food; I can tell you that.” It was the tall girl’s turn to smile. Marjorie liked her instantly. She admired her capable chin and direct, honest expression. “You would have gone rambling along toward the Hamilton Estates.”
“We saw them yesterday as we drove to the college from the station. They are so artistically laid out. I am anxious to see Hamilton Arms. I have been interested in what the bulletin says of Brooke Hamilton. We loved Baretti’s. It must have been an inn, long ago. That is what we thought.”
“It was,” answered the brunette. She now offered her hand. “It used to be called ‘Comfort Inn.’ You and your friends are freshmen, I know. Miss Remson told us that there were to be fivefreshmen from the same town at the Hall this year. You see the Hall was fairly well filled last June with prospective sophs and a few juniors and seniors. I think only two other freshmen besides yourselves were able to get in here, this year. We mustn’t keep you standing here. I am Martha Merrick, and this is my pal, Rosalind Black. We are sophomores. We are not so very much inflated over our high estate. You may look at us, of course, and even speak to us.”
“I will try not to overstep bounds,” Marjorie promised. “I am Marjorie Dean, and I am glad to meet you. I haven’t yet learned a freshman’s prerogatives. I must rely upon my high and mighty sophomore sisters to enlighten me.”
“We will, never fear. You may expect to see us in your room before long; perhaps this evening, if you are not busy.”
“You will be welcome. We have nothing special to do this evening. We shall look forward to seeing you, and treat you with proper respect, you may be sure.”
All three laughed merrily at Marjorie’s assurance. The two sophomores then left her to her morning ablutions.
“‘The sweetest flower that grows’” sang Martha Merrick softly, the minute the door closed between them and Marjorie.
“Isn’t she, though,” quietly agreed her companion. “She isn’t a snob, Martha. She has gentle manners.”
“Oh, I know it! What a relief to see a beauty who isn’t wrapped up in herself. Did you ever see anything more gorgeous than that head of brown curls. If I wished to be further poetical I could quote numerous lines that would apply to her.”
“She is lovely enough to inspire them, but she is more than that. She is a very fine girl. Depend upon it, Martha, her friends are worth knowing or they wouldn’t be her friends. That’s the way I read our stunning freshie. I hope I am right. A few staunch democratics besides ourselves and Nella and Leila are needed here to offset Millionaire Row.”
Meanwhile Marjorie was luxuriating in her morning scrub, a happy little smile playing about her lips. It was so cheering to meet friendliness at last. Miss Merrick and Miss Black were far more according to her college ideals. Before she had completed her toilet several girls dropped into the lavatory. Long before this, her curls had been fastened up, close to her head. Nevertheless the strangers stared more or less politely at her. Two of them she thought she recognized as among the four she had seen at Baretti’s.
About to leave the lavatory, one of the towelson her arm slid to the floor as she essayed to open the door. Some one behind her recovered it and handed it to her. Turning to thank the doer of the courtesy, she caught a flash of white teeth and the steady regard of two bright blue eyes. This was Marjorie’s first impression of Leila Harper.
“I am ever so much obliged to you,” she said.
“You are welcome.” The other girl betrayed no special interest in Marjorie. Nevertheless Leila Harper was interested to the point of deliberately endeavoring to draw her into conversation. About to turn away, Leila spoke again. “I believe I saw you last night at Baretti’s.”
“I thought I recognized you as one of the students who sat at a table on the right,” Marjorie instantly replied. Not a word more did she volunteer. Instinctively she recognized a difference in the stranger’s manner from that of the two students with whom she had recently talked.
“Baretti’s is a quaint old place, is it not?” remarked the other, a shade more cordially.
“We admired it. We were too late for dinner at the Hall last night, so we were directed there.” Marjorie could not bring herself to be too casual.
“It’s a good place to eat when you have a brand new check from home in your pocket. Toward the last of the month I am generally to be found at the Hall at meal-time.” Her blue eyes twinkled in trueIrish fashion and her white teeth again flashed into evidence.
“I suppose it will be the same with me before I have been here long. At home my chums and I used to part with our pocket money at a tea-room called Sargent’s. Now we shall undoubtedly do our best to make Baretti rich.”
“Where do you come from?” The question was asked with abrupt directness.
Marjorie answered in quietly even tones, adding a few more explanatory sentences concerning herself and chums. It had occurred to her that this latest acquaintance had engaged in conversation with her for a purpose of her own. Realizing that time was on the wing, and Jerry probably impatient at her non-return, she excused herself and pattered down the hall to her room.
“I thought you would never come back,” greeted Jerry. “Have you seen the girls?”
“No; not one of them. I met those two girls who directed us to Baretti’s last night. They are sophomores. I like them. Miss Remson mentioned us to them.
“Now I told you Busy Buzzy was on the job all the time. She ought to be our press agent. Only we don’t need one. True worth will always be discovered, sooner or later. Who else knows ourhome town and past history as given out by our little Buzz-about?”
“No one else, so far as I know.” Marjorie was forced to smile at Jerry’s nonsense. She did not altogether approve of Busy Buzzy and Buzz-about as names for the odd little manager. She doubted if Miss Remson would hail either with joy. “I met another girl, too. One of those we saw at Baretti’s last night.” Marjorie briefly described her and the circumstances of the meeting.
“Yes; I remember her. I took a good look at those four. They were watching us, too. They were very clever about it, though.”
Marjorie said nothing for a little. Engaged with her hair at the dressing table, a decided frown shadowed her forehead.
“What’s the matter?” Seated where she could see her chum’s face in the mirror, Jerry had instantly noted the shadow.
“Oh, nothing much. It seemed to me this girl didn’t care about being friendly. She acted more as if she were trying to find out what sort of person I was. It wasn’t what she said to me, but her manner that made me think it. I felt toward her as I might have toward a stranger I had chanced to meet somewhere in public and exchanged courtesies with.”
“She was probably trying to find out your principlesand so forth. She may be either a snob or a snob-hater. It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the main issue here,” was Jerry’s shrewd guess. “In either case she would be anxious to know how to class you. According to Miss Archer’s friend, Miss Hutchison, the snob proposition has become a grand nuisance here. Who knows? Before long we may be taking part in a regular fight against ‘our crowd.’ Maybe both sides are looking for freshman recruits.”
“Well, if it’s a fight based on money, you and Ronny are eligible to ‘our crowd,’” retorted Marjorie mischievously. “The rest of us can’t qualify.”
“It’s a good thing,” Jerry said sarcastically. “Any time you catch me toddling along with that foolish aggregation you may discard me forever.”
The measured raps on the door turned the attention of both girls to it. Jerry answered it, admitting Muriel.
“Top of the morning,” she saluted. “Ready to go down to breakfast? Have you seen Ronny and Lucy yet?”
“I am ready and Marjorie soon will be. No; the girls haven’t appeared. We have loads of time for breakfast this morning. No danger of getting left.”
Muriel at once began to recount her meeting in the lavatory with two freshmen. She was in themidst of it when more rapping announced Ronny and Lucy.
“I was afraid you had gone down stairs,” were Ronny’s first words. “I slept until the last minute as usual. Lucy was up long before me. She set off for the lavatory, bold as you please. When she opened the door and saw half a dozen strangers, she took fright and hustled back to our room. Then she sat around like a goose until I woke up.”
Lucy merely smiled a little at this exposé. “I needed Ronny’s moral support,” she said whimsically. “Afterward I was sorry I didn’t brave it out. The second time the lavatory held twice as many girls.”
“We landed in the middle of ‘our crowd,’” reported Veronica, looking extremely bored. “They paid no attention to us, for which I was duly thankful. Like myself, I suppose they hate to get up early. I didn’t mind it at home, for I can take my time. I often get up at five o’clock when Father and I are going for a long ride over the ranch. But to rise early, then have to hurry!” Ronny made a gesture eloquent of disfavor.
“Miss Weyman said there were eighteen girls in their sorority,” interposed Jerry. “I wonder how many of them room in this house?”
“A dozen at least; perhaps the whole eighteen,” replied Ronny. “There were eight or nine of themin the lavatory. I heard them asking where Florence and Lita were, so I daresay they are among the elect. Miss Weyman wasn’t there nor Miss Cairns. I saw and heard Miss Vale, she was talking at the top of her lungs.”
“Did that Miss Vale speak to you?” Jerry questioned abruptly.
“I happened to catch her eye and she gave me a wee little nod and a sickly smile,” Ronny answered, in satirical amusement.
“Marjorie and I have an inkling that there are two factions at the Hall. If that’s the case—Good-bye to a peaceful college life,” predicted Jerry. “While we may think we can keep clear of both factions, we can never do it. Mark my words, within six weeks from now we’ll be all out of patience with ‘our crowd.’ Then look out for fireworks.”
Following Jerry’s ominous prophecy, nothing of any special moment occurred to mar the Five Travelers’ peace of mind during their first week at Hamilton. So occupied were they in choosing their subjects, arranging their recitation periods andadapting themselves to the new life that they paid small attention to the comings and goings of the coterie of millionaire’s purse-proud daughters which Wayland Hall housed.
The Sans Soucians were deep in a round of sociabilities, to which it appeared that only a few juniors and seniors were eligible. To the other girls of the sophomore class, they accorded a cool shoulder. A handful of moneyed freshmen found favor with them and were therefore made much of. The Lookouts, however, were not among these. They had been privately rated by their quondam callers as plebians and dropped.
While Marjorie and Muriel had chosen the classical course, Lucy and Jerry had decided on the scientific and Ronny on the philosophical. As they had arrived at Hamilton three days before the official opening of the college, they had plenty of time to discuss together the respective merits of their chosen courses and arrange satisfactorily their recitation periods.
The making of these necessary arrangements, together with unpacking their trunks and attention to the countless details relative to their physical comfort, left them little time during those first busy days for social amenities outside their own intimate circle.
With Helen Trent, Martha Merrick and RosalindBlack they had become fairly friendly. Helen, in particular, had already become a welcome visitor to their rooms. She had a habit of dropping in on one or another of them with a bit of lively, but harmless, college gossip, that was infinitely diverting. She never prolonged her visits to the wearisome point. She was never in the way. In fact, she was usually in a hurry. The difficulty lay in trying to hold her, never in wishing for her to depart.
Thanks to Miss Remson, the five girls had been given places at one table in the dining room. At meal time they were, therefore, a close corporation. Muriel’s acquaintance with the two freshmen, Mary Cornell and Eva Ingram, both from New York City, had flourished to the extent that they had made her one evening call which she had returned. Like herself, they had made no acquaintances outside the Hall since their arrival and relied on each other for company.
Toward the end of the Sanford girls’ second week at Hamilton a number of things happened. First of all, Muriel acquired a room-mate as a result of persistent “buzzing” on the part of the manager. When first asked to share her room with the dissatisfied junior, Miss Barlow, Muriel had thought it over and decided in the negative. Miss Barlow was not to be thus easily balked of her desire. She persistedwith Miss Remson and Miss Remson persisted with Muriel until the latter finally revoked her earlier refusal.
“Anything to have the subject off my mind,” she confided to her chums. “I’m tired of being waylaid by Miss Remson. I don’t blame Jeremiah for calling her Busy Buzzy. Just wait until you see my room-mate! Her name is Hortense. It ought to be Moretense. She is the stiffest person I ever saw. She walks as though she were wired and then starched for the occasion. I had a lovely conversation with her last night. She moved in after classes yesterday. I talked quite a lot. All she said was ‘Yes,’ ‘Do you?’ and ‘I believe not.’”
The name “Moretense” found instant favor with Jerry, while the other three Lookouts had hard work to keep their faces straight when they chanced to encounter dignified Miss Barlow about the Hall. Very tall and straight to rigidity, her set features never seemed to relax. Even an abundant head of blue black hair, loosely coiffed, did not serve to soften the wax-like immobility of her rather broad face. Whether her disposition and temperament matched her peculiar physical presence was something Muriel had not had time to fathom.
Muriel’s room-mate, nevertheless, was of more interest to the Five Travelers than the notice of the class election which was to take place at the beginningof their third week at Hamilton. They had long since learned that the majority of the freshmen had made harbor at Acasia House and Silverton Hall, both noted as freshmen domiciles. Recitations had familiarized them with the other members of their class, which was a small one for Hamilton, numbering only eighty-two students. Still they had not become much acquainted with their classmates and they had not yet reached a stage of active interest in their class.
Summoned to election one windy Tuesday afternoon, following recitations, the Lookouts began to experience the beginning of class enthusiasm. The majority of 19— were bright-faced, bright-eyed girls who reminded Marjorie of her class at Sanford High. It was seeing them together that brought to her a tardy realization that she had been too entirely wrapped up in her own affairs to cultivate a proper class spirit. Had she entered Hamilton College alone, she would have made acquaintances in her class more quickly. Surrounded by four of her intimate friends, her hours of leisure were always spent with them. Of the five girls, she had the peculiar personality which invites friendship. Muriel came next in this, Ronny was not interested in acquiring new friends. Jerry was hard to please, and Lucy was too reserved. A large number of freshmen at Wayland Hall would have also made adifference. As this was not the case, the Lookouts were obliged to admit among themselves that they had been lacking in class spirit.
The freshmen from Silverton Hall, about thirty in number, were, to all appearances, taking the lead in the class election. Three of the candidates nominated for office who won, respectively, the presidency, vice-presidency and secretaryship were from there. As the candidates were obliged to come up to the front of Science Hall where the meeting was held, the Lookouts had at least the opportunity to see the nominees and judge their fitness, as nearly as they could, from their personal appearance. All five approved in particular the new president, Miss Graham, a fair-haired, pink-cheeked young woman with sparkling brown eyes and a ready, sunshiny smile.
The treasurer-elect was an Acasia House girl, while the various committees were about equally divided between the two houses. While the Lookouts were entirely satisfied with the result of the election, they felt, nevertheless, a trifle out of things. They had had no part in the merry electioneering which had evidently gone on under their very noses. More, it appeared that another class meeting had been held before this, of which they had seen no notice on the Hall bulletin board,neither had they received a written or verbal summons to it.
During a recess after the election granted for the purpose of shaking hands with the officers, Marjorie found the golden brown eyes of the president fixed very kindly on her.
“You are at Wayland Hall, aren’t you? I know you are Miss Dean, for I saw you on the campus over two weeks ago and made inquiry about you. It is too bad we don’t have any of the same recitation periods. I would have met you before this. I thought you would be at our other class meeting, but neither you nor your four friends came. I haven’t time to talk any more now. Observe that line of congratulators. After the meeting, if you will wait for me, several of the Silverton girls would like to meet you and your friends.”
“Of course we will wait, and feel highly honored.” Marjorie flashed the president a winsome smile, albeit she was nonplussed as to why pretty Miss Graham had been so anxious to meet her, in particular. She was also bent on learning more of the other class meeting from which they had in some strange manner been cut out.
The meeting over, the Sanford quintette stood off to one side, waiting for Miss Graham. She presently came up to them, accompanied by half a dozen freshmen, evidently close friends of hers.An introducing session ensued, punctuated by laughter and gay pleasantries. It produced a more comforting effect on the Five Travelers than had anything since the day when Helen Trent, by her kindly manner, had taken the strain off their arrival.
“What do you think of that, girls? Miss Dean and her friends did not know athingabout the other class meeting we held here! We sent notices to all the campus houses, requesting them bulletined. There was a notice on the big bulletin board, too. The one outside Hamilton Hall, you know.”
“Why, Portia, don’t you remember? It was awfully windy that day and some one came into the Hall and said that there wasn’t a sign of our notice on the large board. It must have blown away. That was at noon. We were to put out another and I believe it was forgotten.” This information came from a small girl with very wide-open gray eyes and brown hair, cropped close to her head. She had the face of a mischievous, small boy.
“Yes, Robin, I do recall it, now that you have reminded me. Much obliged. That explains, perhaps, why you did not see it on the main bulletin board. It seems strange that the notice we sent to Wayland Hall was not posted there. Miss Remson, I understand, is always particularly careful to post the notices sent her.”
“If Miss Remson received it, she would not fail to post it,” asserted Marjorie. “Was it mailed or delivered by a freshman messenger?”
“I took it to Wayland Hall.” It was the girl Miss Graham addressed as Robin who answered. “I handed it to a maid in a sealed envelope, addressed to Miss Remson.”
“Perhaps some of the sophs saw it on the bulletin board and nabbed it for a joke,” suggested a tall, handsome brunette who had been introduced to the Lookouts as Miss Scott.
“A poor sort of joke, I should say,” Robin Page said, a trifle contemptuously.
“Well, we were told we might expect——” Blanche Scott broke off short, with a significant twitch of compressed lips.
“It was unfortunate, of course,” Portia Graham hastily remarked, “but we’ll hope no more notices go astray. You freshmen at the Hall had better keep in closer touch with us. That means come over to our house and be sociable. How many more freshmen besides yourselves live at Wayland Hall?”
“Two; Miss Cornell and Miss Ingram.” Muriel supplied this information. “They were sitting toward the back of the hall when the meeting began. There they are!” She located the two at a short distance from them, talking earnestly to the studentwho had been elected to the vice-presidency. She bore a slight resemblance to Irma Linton. The Lookouts often saw her on the campus and during recitation periods, but did not know her name.
“Oh; I see them. They are in good hands.” Miss Graham looked relieved. “Elaine Hunter is the sweetest girl in the whole world, I believe. Just to be in the same house with her is to love her.”
“She reminds us of a friend of ours at home.” Jerry glanced very approvingly toward the pretty freshman. “We have noticed her on the campus. If she is as fine as Irma Linton, our friend, she is worth knowing. We were sorry that Irma didn’t choose Hamilton, but her mother was a Wellesley graduate and anxious for Irma to enter Wellesley.”
“I know how that goes,” nodded Miss Graham. “My dearest friend was packed off to Smith College to please her family. She didn’t care to enter Smith, but went as a matter of duty.”
At this juncture, Elaine Hunter, accompanied by Miss Cornell and Miss Ingram, joined the group around the president and more introducing followed. Presently the whole party trooped out of Science Hall and across the wide campus together, making the still autumn dusk ring with their clear young voices.
From the Silverton Hall girls the Lookoutslearned that the regular freshman dance, which the sophomores gave each year to their younger sisters, was soon to take place. The date had not yet been given out. It was the autumn event at Hamilton. The juniors and seniors could come to it if they chose. On St. Valentine’s night the juniors always gave a masquerade to all three of the other classes. Washington’s birthday the seniors claimed as theirs and gave either a play or a costume dance. To the freshmen belonged the Apple Blossom hop, a dance given by them each spring in the time of apple blossoms.
When the seven freshmen bade their congenial classmates good-bye, and struck off across the campus for Wayland Hall, it was with a new and delightful sense of fellowship and cheer. Like the Lookouts, the two girls from New York City had been disappointed at the lack of cordiality they had met with at Hamilton. Neither had known of the first class meeting until after it had been held, and both were a trifle hurt at having been ignored. As the Lookouts had known nothing at all about it, they at least could not be blamed for not having passed word of it along.
“Well, we are at last beginning to meet the folks,” Jerry said with a certain touch of grim satisfaction, as the five girls settled themselves in Ronny’s and Lucy’s room for a few moment’s private chat before the dinner bell sounded.
“If we were living at Silverton Hall or Acasia House we would be far more in touch with college matters,” commented Ronny reflectively.
“You may blame me for choosing Wayland Hall,” Marjorie reminded. “I liked the picture of it better than the others.”
“Yes; you picked this stately old lemon and we followed your lead.” Jerry favored her room-mate with a genial grin which the latter returned in kind. “We forgive you for it. How could you guess who else beside Busy Buzzy lived here? I like the Hall. The rooms are good, the meals are gooder, and the conveniences are goodest of all. It has the prettiest lawn and veranda of them all, too.”
“It’s a blue-ribbon place or Moretense wouldn’t have besieged Miss Remson to let her in here. I decline to say Busy Buzzy for fear of getting the habit. I am too careless to apply it to her only in privacy. I’m likely to come to grief,” Muriel said lightly.
“It’s no worse than ‘Moretense,’” argued Jerry. “You say that all the time. I hope, for your sake, you won’t get caught sayingthat.”
“It sounds so much like ‘Hortense’ that I could get away with it,” retorted Muriel. “Anyway, I like to name people according to their lights and so do you. Long may we wave with no embarrassingaccidents.” Whereupon Jerry and Muriel solemnly shook hands.
“Isn’t it time we had a meeting of the Five Travelers?” Lucy Warner broke in irrelevantly. “On the train we said we would have one once a week. This is our third week here and we haven’t had even one.”
“Quite true, Lucificus Warneriferous, sage and philosopher,” agreed Jerry, with a gravity which would have been admirable on any other occasion.
“Jeremiah is all taken up with the naming habit,” put in Ronny slyly.
“Ain’t I jist,” chuckled Jerry. “Our cook always says that when I ask her if she is going to the movies on Saturday night.”
“We are away off the subject.” Marjorie had done little but laugh since the five had sat down to talk.
“Certainly, we are.” Lucy regarded Jerry with pretended severity. “We never keep to a subject when Geraldine Macy is present.” Though she spoke in jest there was a curious light in Lucy’s green eyes which no one present except Marjorie understood. It always appeared when Lucy was anxious to impart a confidence.
“You have something special to tell us, haven’t you, Lucy?” Marjorie quietly asked.
“Yes, I have, but I wish it to be a confidencemade to the Five Travelers,” Lucy said with stiff positiveness. “While what I have to tell you is not anything which touches us personally, it is something which should be brought to your attention. I don’t wish to tell you until we have a meeting. I think we had better have that meeting no later than tomorrow night.”