When at length the quintette of callers regretfully agreed that they must be getting back to the Hall, Freda said rather nervously:
"Please don't go just yet. I—we—there is something we think we ought to tell you."
"Very well, tell us," invited Judith gaily.
She had an idea that the something might relate to the all-important question of gowns. If Freda were worrying over that, Judith proposed to dismiss the subject lightly. Precisely the same thought had occurred to Jane, who noted Freda's sudden flush and evident confusion.
"Something—well—not very pleasant happened this afternoon," Freda continued. "A—we had a caller—a girl——Why shouldn't I be frank? This girl was of the freshman class. We saw her at class meeting the other day, but we have never been introduced to her. She brought a paper with her and asked us to sign it. It was about three of you girls; Miss Allen, Miss Dupree and Miss Stearns, and——"
"About us?" chorused a trio of astonished voices.
"Yes," nodded Freda, her color heightening. "It began, 'We, the undersigned,' I can't recall the exact words, but it was an agreement not to accept an invitation from any one of you to the dance or to notice you throughout the year, because of the discourteous and hateful way you had treated a member of the freshman class. There were——"
"How perfectly disgraceful!" burst indignantly from Judith. "What did I tell you, girls? I knew there was something wrong. We didn't expect to find it out in this strange way, though. Well, 'murder will out,' as the saying goes."
"You said the paper began, 'We, the undersigned'?" questioned Jane in a clear, hard voice. "How many names were signed to it?"
"I can't say positively." Freda looked distressed. "You see, it made me so disgusted that I handed it back the instant I had read it. The girl offered it to my chums, too, but they wouldn't look at it. She said that nearly all the members of the class had signed it. I know better. I believe not half the class had signed."
"Would you object to telling us the name of the girl who brought you the paper to sign?" steadily pursued Jane.
"I wouldn't object; no. Why should I? A girl like that deserves no clemency," Freda returned spiritedly. "The trouble is, I don't know her name. She is small and dark, with sharp black eyes and a pointed chin. She's very homely, but dresses beautifully. She——"
"Thank you. We know who she is," interrupted Judith. "Her name is Elsie Noble, and she lives at Madison Hall."
"Ah, but she is the hateful one," sputtered Adrienne. "It was most kind in you, Miss Marsh, and your friends also, to thus refuse to sign this hideously untruthful paper. We have done this girl no harm. Rather, it is she who would harm us because we have respected our own rights."
"I suspected it to be a case of spite work," asserted Freda. "It is not usual for a class in college to adopt such harsh measures."
"We were rather surprised at her coming to us with the paper," put in Kathie. "We've seen her with a crowd of girls who don't appear to know that we are on the map. She said she understood that you girls were going to invite us to the dance and felt it her duty to call on us and object to our accepting your invitations."
"But how could she possibly know that?" cried out Ethel Lacey. "No one except the five of us knew it until Norma told you this morning."
"I hope you don't think——" began Freda.
A hurt look had crept into her soft, brown eyes.
"How could we possibly think such a thing?" cut in Jane assuringly. "We can readily understand that Miss Noble's call must have been a complete surprise to you. On the contrary, we are very grateful to you and your friends for not signing the paper."
"Yes, indeed," nodded Judith. "Frankly, we suspected that something unpleasant was in the wind. When first we heard about the dance, we each invited freshmen whom we knew. Every one of them turned us down. We didn't think anything of that in the beginning. We supposed we had just happened to invite the wrong ones. Afterward we thought differently."
"I am sorry we didn't make it our business to get acquainted earlier with you girls. We really should have, you know," Judith apologized. "We were so busy getting started in our classes that we hadn't had time yet to be sociable. Jane and I had both agreed to try to know every girl in the freshman class this year. I'm glad it has turned out like this. I'm sure we'll all have a splendid time at the dance, no matter whether some people like it or not."
"I'm very sure of it, too," declared Kathie Meddart. "I can't understand how a girl could be so contemptible as to deliberately set out to injure others."
"Oh, well, she hasn't succeeded," reminded Judith, "so why should we care? We've invited our freshmen in spite of her."
"What are you going to do about that paper?" Ida Leonard asked a trifle curiously. "If I were you girls, I think I would make a fuss about it. We'll stand by you if you do."
"Indeed we will," echoed Marie Benham. "I wouldn't allow such a document to travel about college."
"It's hard to decide what to do," Jane said gravely. "It might be wiser to ignore the whole thing. I don't know. We'll have to think it over, I guess. I thank you girls for your offer to stand by us."
Aside from Freda's opinion that spite had actuated the circulation of the damaging paper, she and her chums had exhibited an admirable restraint concerning it. They had evidently accepted Adrienne's sketchy explanation of it at its face value.
This courteous disinclination to pry had been especially noted and approved by Jane. It added to the high opinion she already cherished of the four freshmen. They had been moved solely by a sense of duty to inform herself and her companions of the outrageous paper.
Jane felt strongly that an explanation was due them, yet she hated to make it. It would be too much like gossiping, she thought.
"Adrienne told you, a little while ago, that we had done Miss Noble no harm," she said slowly. "That is really all that I think ought to be said about this affair. Are you satisfied to leave it so?"
"Perfectly," replied Freda. "I'd rather it would be that way. I can see no good in dragging up unpleasant things. We'd rather not hear about them."
"The paper itself speaks for those who drew it up," smiled Marie. "It's easy to place the blame where it belongs."
Ida and Kathie's warmly expressed opinion coincided with that of their companion.
"Shall we not speak of more pleasant things? What of the dance? At what time shall we come for you?"
Adrienne had addressed herself to Freda.
Glad to get away from the distasteful topic they had been discussing, the girls began to make their arrangements for the freshman frolic. After a little further talk, the five callers took their leave.
"Well, what are we going to do about it?" demanded Judith, the moment they had reached the street. "I agree with that nice Miss Benham. We can't afford to have a paper like that going the rounds of the college."
"I will of my own accord go to the Prexy. He is of mon père the old friend. He will not allow that such mischief should be done."
Adrienne threateningly wagged her curly head, as she made this vengeful announcement.
"Good for you, Imp!" lauded Judith.
"I think either Prexy or Miss Rutledge ought to be told," concurred Ethel. "It would nip the whole business in the bud. There'll be more of this sort of thing if it isn't stopped right away.
"Did you hear what I said, Jane?" she questioned over her shoulder to Jane, who was walking behind her with Norma. Ethel, Adrienne and Judith had taken the lead.
"Yes, I heard. Let's wait until we get back to the Hall to talk this over," Jane grimly proposed. "We'll have time to settle it before the ten-thirty bell."
"Come on, then. Forward march!" ordered Judith. "The sooner we get there the longer we'll have to talk."
This important point settled, a brisk hike to the Hall became the order.
"Don't stop to talk to anyone," commanded Judith, as they scampered up the front steps. "Make a bee-line for our room. I'll hang out a 'Busy' sign, so that we won't be disturbed."
Five minutes later the "Busy" sign was in place and the key turned in the lock.
"Three of us can sit on my couch. That means you, Imp and Ethel. Now, Jane and Norma, draw up your chairs. Ahem!" Judith giggled. "What is the pleasure of this indignation meeting? You know what we think, Jane. Let's hear from you and Norma."
"Oh, I haven't any voice in the matter," smiled Norma. "That is, I've no right to decide anything."
"Neither have I, but I'm speaking just the same," laughed Ethel. "I say, 'On to Prexy with the horrible tale.'"
"I think we'd best handle this affair if we can without the faculty's help," Jane said quietly. "If we went to anyone it ought to be Miss Rutledge. I'd rather not tell even her. I hate telling tales."
"I don't," disagreed Judith. "If we let it go without saying a word, we'll have trouble right along. It ought to be stamped out now."
"I intend that it shall be," Jane tersely assured.
"How?"
Judith's query rang with skepticism.
"By going straight to Miss Noble and ordering her to stop it," was Jane's determined reply. "I shall ask her to give me that paper."
"A lot of good that will do." Judith gave a short laugh. "You might as well tell the wind to stop blowing."
"It will do this much good," retorted Jane. "We shall give Miss Noble her choice between giving up that paper or being reported to the faculty."
"Who's going to tell her all this?" demanded Judith in a slightly ruffled tone.
"I am," returned Jane composedly.
"And I. I shall be there also," instantly supported Adrienne.
"Very fine. It looks as though I'd be there myself."
Judith's annoyed expression vanished in a wide grin.
"When do we do this valiant stunt?" she inquired facetiously. "When does the great offensive take place?"
"We'll have to put it off until to-morrow," Jane answered. "It's too late to do it to-night. We'll go to her just before dinner, or else right after. There won't be time enough in the morning or at noon."
"Suppose she won't let us inside her room?" argued Judith.
"She isn't rooming alone," was Jane's reminder. "I intend to see Alicia Reynolds to-morrow and find out just why she wouldn't talk to me the other day. I promised myself that I'd never ask her. But something I saw to-day makes me feel that I must. This Miss Noble has been making trouble between us. I'm convinced of that. It can't go on. The tangle between Alicia and me must be straightened out by a frank understanding of what caused it. Once that is done, Alicia will stand by us, I believe."
"But you said yourself that she'd gone back to Marian Seaton."
Judith looked amazement of Jane's sudden change of opinion.
"So I thought," admitted Jane, "until I saw her pass Marian on the campus to-day without speaking. It came to me right then that only Miss Noble was to blame for the snub Alicia gave me. But I was too proud to run after Alicia and have it out with her. Now I'm going to do it."
When Jane awoke the next morning her first thought crystalized into a determination to interview Alicia Reynolds before the day was over. Speculating as to her best opportunity, she decided that it should be at the end of the morning recitations.
For once she would cut her recitation in Horace, which came the last hour in the morning. Alicia had no recitation at that hour. She would probably be in her room and alone. Jane also knew that Elsie Noble was occupied with a class at that time.
If looks could have killed, Jane and Adrienne would undoubtedly have been carried lifeless from the dining room that morning. At breakfast Elsie Noble's thin face wore an expression of spiteful resentment, which she made no effort to conceal. She was inwardly furious over her failure to rally the four Bridge Street freshmen to her standard. In consequence, she was more bitter against Jane and Adrienne than ever.
It further increased her rancor to hear Adrienne prattling with child-like innocence to Dorothy Martin of the coming dance.
Knowing very well what she was about, the little girl kept up a tantalizing chatter that was maddening in the extreme to the defeated plotter.
Unacquainted with the true state of affairs, Dorothy's genuinely expressed interest in the Bridge Street girls merely added fuel to the fire.
"Ah, but they are indeed delightful!" Adrienne wickedly assured, her black eyes dancing with mischief. "We shall be proud of our freshmen, when we escort them to the dance. Shall we not, Jeanne?"
"Yes, indeed. You must meet them, Dorothy. You'll like them all immensely. They're a splendid, high-principled lot of girls."
Signally amused by Adrienne's tactics, Jane could not resist this one little fling at her discomfited tablemate. She hoped it would serve to enlighten the latter in regard to at least one thing.
Her second recitation, spherical trigonometry, over, Jane hurried across the campus toward the Hall, keeping a sharp lookout for Alicia. It was just possible she might meet the latter on the campus.
Reaching the veranda, Jane lingered there. If she could waylay Alicia as she came in, so much the better. With this idea paramount, she sat down in a high-backed porch rocker and waited.
She could not help reflecting a trifle sadly that thus far her sophomore year had run anything but smoothly. She had looked forward to peace, whereas she was in the midst of strife. And all because Marian Seaton did not like her. That dislike dated back to her initial journey across the continent to Wellington. If she had not antagonized Marian then, she wondered if she and Marian would have become enemies. She decided that they must have. They had nothing whatever in common.
Light, hurrying feet on the walk brought Jane's retrospective musings to an end. She saw Alicia a second before the latter saw her. Promptly rising, she headed Alicia off neatly as she gained the steps.
"I want to speak to you, Alicia," she greeted evenly. "You must listen to me."
"I have nothing to say to you. Please let me alone."
A dull flush mantled Alicia's pale cheeks as she thus spoke. Her tones indicated injury rather than anger.
"But I have something to say to you," persisted Jane. "I must know positively why you have turned against me. It's not fair in you to keep me in the dark. Do you think it is? What have I done to deserve such treatment?"
Stopping on the step below Jane, Alicia stared hard at the quiet, purposeful face looking down on her.
"I believed in you, Jane," she said sadly, with a little catch of breath. "You made me admire you. Then you spoiled it all. It hurt me so. I—I—don't want to talk about it."
She took an undecided step to the right, as though to pass Jane and flee into the house.
"Don't go, Alicia. Let's get together and straighten things out." Jane laid a gentle hand on the other girl's arm. "I'm sure we can. You promised last year to be my friend. Have you forgotten that?"
"How can I be the friend of a girl who talks about me?" Alicia cried out bitterly. "A girl who only pretends friendship?"
"So, that's it. I thought as much. Now tell me what I said about you."
Something in Jane's steady glance caused Alicia's eyes to waver.
"You told Ethel Lacey that you wished you didn't have to invite me to go with you girls to the Inn the other night, but you felt that you could hardly get out of it. That I expected you to do it. You know that's not true. I'd never intrude where I wasn't wanted."
"Did Ethel tell you this?" Jane asked composedly.
"No. Someone else overheard you say it," retorted Alicia.
"And that 'someone else'?"
"I won't tell you. I promised I wouldn't."
"You don't need to tell me, because I know." Jane emphasized the know. "It's not true. I didn't say that. This is what I said."
As well as she could recall it, she repeated the conversation that had taken place between herself and Ethel.
"I asked Ethel to invite you because I didn't want you to go to your room," she explained. "Miss Noble and I are not on speaking terms. Did you know that?"
"Yes, I knew it," Alicia admitted. "I was told it was your fault. I didn't believe it until——"
She paused, uncertainty written large on every feature. She had begun to glimpse the unworthiness of her doubts.
"Until Miss Noble came to you with this untruthful tale about me," finished Jane.
Alicia was silent. She could not truthfully contradict this pertinent statement.
"Which of us do you believe, Alicia?"
Jane put the question with business-like directness.
Alicia mutely studied Jane's resolute face. Honesty of purpose looked out from the long-lashed, gray eyes. She mentally contrasted it with another face; dark, spiteful and furtive.
"I believe you. Forgive me, Jane."
Her lips quivering, Alicia stretched forth a penitent hand.
"There's nothing to forgive."
Jane was quick to grasp the hand Alicia proffered.
"I ought to have come straight to you," quavered the penitent.
"I wish you had. Thank goodness, it's all right now. Let's sit down in the porch swing, Alicia. There are several things yet to be said and this is the time to say them."
Her hand still in Alicia's, Jane gently pulled her toward the swing. When they had seated themselves, she continued:
"I don't like to say things behind anyone's back, but in this case it's necessary. Miss Noble has started her freshman year as a trouble maker. She is very bitter against me for several reasons. When I came back to college, I found that Mrs. Weatherbee had given her my room. She understood that I was not coming to Madison Hall this year. I'm telling you this because I suspect that it is news to you."
"It certainly is." Alicia showed evident surprise. "I supposed Elsie Noble had been assigned to room with me from the start. She never said a word about it to me."
"She didn't want you to know it. I don't wish to explain why. I'll simply say that Mrs. Weatherbee decided I had first right to the room. It made Miss Noble very angry. She came back to the room after she had left it. Adrienne, Judith and I were there. She made quite a scene. I hoped it would end there, but it hasn't. Since then she has tried to set not only you against me, but others also. She has circulated a paper among the freshmen against Judith, Adrienne and I which some of them have signed."
"How perfectly terrible!" was Alicia's shocked exclamation. "She certainly has kept very quiet about it to me. I never suspected such a thing."
"I can't see that it has done us much harm," Jane dryly responded. "It's come to a point, however, where we feel that we ought to assert ourselves. We are here for study, not to quarrel, but we won't stand everything tamely."
"I don't blame you. I wouldn't, either. I'm sure Marian Seaton is behind all this," declared Alicia hotly. "Ever since I came back to the Hall she's been trying to talk to me. Small good it will do her. When I broke friendship with her last year it was for good and all."
"When you wouldn't speak to me the other day, I thought you had gone back to her," confessed Jane. "Just a little before that Dorothy and I had been saying that we thought we ought to try to make Marian see things differently. Afterward I was so angry I gave up the thought as hopeless. It may not be right to say to you, 'Let Marian alone,' when one looks at it from one angle. The Bible says, 'Love your enemies.' On the other hand, it seems wiser to steer clear of malicious persons. Marian is malicious. She's proved that over and over again. No one but herself can make her different."
"I know it's best for me to keep away from her," asserted Alicia. "My influence wouldn't be one, two, three with her. Whenever I tried last year to be honest with myself she just sneered at me. It's either be like her or let her alone, in my case. There's no happy medium. So I choose to let her alone."
"We all have to decide such things for ourselves," Jane said reflectively. "It seems too bad that Marian's so determined to be always on the wrong side. I've decided to let her stay there for the present. If this affair of the paper involved only myself, I'd probably do nothing about it. But it's not right to let Judith and Adrienne suffer for something that's really meant for me."
"What are you going to do?" inquired Alicia.
"That's what I've been leading up to. With your permission I intend to have a reckoning with Miss Noble in your room. I'd like you to be there when it happens. Judith and Adrienne will be with me. Are you willing that it should be so?"
"Yes, indeed," promptly answered Alicia. "When is the grand reckoning to be?"
"This afternoon just before dinner. I can say my say in short order. Of course if she's not in, I'll have to postpone it until later."
"I can let you know as soon as she comes in from her last class," volunteered Alicia.
"No, I'd rather not have it that way." Jane smiled whimsically. "It's had enough to have to go to work and deliberately plan this hateful business. It has to be gone through with. That's certain. We'll just take our chance of finding her in. When you hear us knock, I wish you'd open the door. It's all horrid, isn't it? I feel like a conspirator."
Jane made a gesture indicative of utter distaste for the purposed program.
"It's honest, anyhow. It's not backbiting and underhandedness," Alicia stoutly pointed out.
"No, it isn't," Jane soberly agreed. "That's the only thing that reconciles me to do it. It's dealing openly and aboveboard with treachery and spite."
"Voila! We are ready. Let us advance!" proclaimed Adrienne with a smothered chuckle, when at ten minutes to six a determined trio left Adrienne's room on the fateful errand to the room next door.
"Don't you dare giggle when we get in there," warned Judith in a whisper, as Jane rapped sharply on the door. "We must make an imposing appearance if we can," she added with a grin. "Who knows? I may giggle myself."
True to her word, it was Alicia who admitted them with, "Hello, girls! Come in."
As the three entered, a figure lolling in a Morris chair by the window sprang up with an angry exclamation.
"I will not have these people in my room, Alicia Reynolds! Do you hear me? I won't!"
Elsie Noble had turned on Alicia, her small black eyes snapping.
"Half this room happens to be mine," tranquilly reminded Alicia. "Have a seat, girls."
"No, thank you. We won't stay long enough for that." Jane's tone was equally composed. "We came to see you, Miss Noble."
"I won't stay," shrieked the enraged girl, and started for the door.
Alicia reached it ahead of her. Calmly turning the key, she dropped it into her blouse pocket.
"Yes; you will stay, Elsie," she said with quiet decision. "You tried to make trouble between Jane and me. We've found you out. Now, you'll listen to what Jane has to say to you. If you don't, you may be sorry."
Her back against the locked door, Elsie Noble glared at her captors for an instant in speechless fury. Then she found her voice again.
"I'll report every one of you for this! It's an outrage!" she shrilled.
The threat lacked strength, however. A coward at heart, she already stood in fear of the accusing quartette which confronted her.
"Just a moment, Miss Noble. We have no desire to detain you any longer than we can help." Jane's intonation was faintly satirical. "We came here for two purposes. One is to tell you that you must stop making trouble for us among your classmates. You know what you have done. So do we. Don't do it again. I will also trouble you for that paper you have been circulating among the freshmen."
"I don't know what you're talking about," hotly denied the culprit. Her eyes, however, shifted uneasily from those of her accusers.
"Oh, yes you do." Judith now took a hand. "You ought to know. Don't you remember? You began it, 'We the undersigned,' and ended your little stunt with the names of as many freshmen as were foolish enough to listen to you."
"You seem to think you know a whole lot," sneered Elsie. "I'm very sure not one of you ever saw such a paper as you describe."
"We did not see it, but we know four girls who did," Jane informed with quiet significance. "They were asked to sign it and refused. They are quite willing to testify to this should we see fit to take the matter to President Blakesly or Miss Rutledge."
"You wouldn't dare do such a thing!" the cornered plotter cried out defiantly. "He—you—he wouldn't listen to such a—a—story as you're trying to tell. He has something better to do than listen to gossiping sophomores. Miss Rutledge wouldn't listen, either."
"I don't think either President Blakesly or Miss Rutledge would refuse to listen to anything that had to do with one student's attempt to injure another," was Jane's grave response. "However, that is not the point. You must make up your mind either to give me that paper and your promise to stop your mischief-making, or else defend yourself as best you can to the faculty. Naturally, we would prefer to settle the matter here and without publicity. If it is carried higher, it will involve not only you, but all the others who signed the paper. If this concerned me alone, I would not be here. But I cannot allow my friends to suffer, simply because they are my friends."
Jane delivered her ultimatum with a tense forcefulness that admitted of no further trifling.
"I can't—I won't—I——" floundered Elsie, now more afraid than angry. "How do I know that you wouldn't take it to President Blakesly if I gave it to you?" she demanded desperately.
"Ah! She admits that she has it!" exclaimed Adrienne triumphantly. The little girl had hitherto kept silent, content to let Jane do the talking. "She is of a truth quite droll."
"Yes, I have it!" Elsie fiercely addressed Adrienne. "I'm going to keep it, too, you horrid little torment."
It was Jane who now spoke, and with a finality.
"A moment more, please. I want to ask you two questions, Miss Noble. The first is: 'How did you happen to overhear the private conversation between Miss Lacey and myself that you repeated so incorrectly to Alicia?' The second is: 'How did you know that we intended to invite the Bridge Street girls to the freshman frolic?' We had mentioned it to no one outside, except Miss Marsh, who certainly did not tell you."
"I won't answer either question," sputtered Elsie. "You can't make me tell you. You'll never know from me."
"I was sure you wouldn't answer." Jane smiled scornfully. "I asked you merely because I wanted to call your attention to both instances. That's all. I'm sorry we can not settle this affair quietly. If you will kindly stand aside, Alicia will unlock the door."
"I—you mustn't tell President Blakesly!"
There was a hint of pleading in the protesting cry. Thoroughly cowed by the fell prospect she was now facing, Elsie crumpled.
"You're mean, too—mean—for—anything!" she wailed, and burst into tears. "You—ought to be—ashamed—to—come—here—and—bully me—like—this. I'll give you—the—paper—but—I'll hate you as long as I live, Jane Allen!"
Sheer intensity of emotion steadied her voice on this last passionate avowal.
Handkerchief to her eyes, she stumbled across the room to the chiffonier. Jerking open the top drawer, she groped within and drew forth a folded paper. Turning, she threw it at Jane with vicious force. It fluttered to the floor a few feet from where she stood.
Very calmly Jane marched over and picked it up. Unfolding it, she glanced it over.
"Please read it, girls," she directed, handing it to Judith.
The latter silently complied and passed it to Adrienne, who in turn gave it to Alicia.
Alicia's face grew dark as she perused it. An angry spot of color appeared on each cheek.
"How could you?" she said, her eyes resting on her roommate in immeasurable contempt.
"You did perfectly right in coming here, Jane," she commented, as she returned the paper to the latter. "I am ashamed to think I ever allowed this girl's spite to come between us. I should have known better."
"It's all past. It won't happen again, Alicia. Now——"
With a purposeful hand Jane tore the offending paper to bits. Stepping over to the waste basket she dropped them into it.
"This incident is closed," she sternly announced to the sullen-faced author of the mischief. "You understand that there are to be no more of a similar nature involving us or any other girls here at Wellington?"
"Yes," muttered Elsie.
"Thank you."
Jane had intended the "Thank you" to be her last word. Something in the expression of abject defeat that looked out from that lowering face stirred her to sudden pity.
"I'm sorry this had to happen, Miss Noble," she said, almost gently. "There's only one thing to do; forget it. We intend to. Won't you? I'm willing to begin over again and——"
"Don't preach to me! I hate you! I'll never forgive you!"
Out of defeat, resentment flared afresh. Darting past the group of girls, Elsie Noble gained the door which was now unlocked. She flashed from the room slamming the door behind her with a force that threatened to shake it from its hinges.
"Some little tempest," cheerfully averred Judith. "Jane, let me congratulate you. You did the deed."
"Don't congratulate me." Jane scowled fiercely. "I feel like—well, just what she said I was—a bully. She's not so much to blame. She's a poor little cat's-paw for Marian Seaton."
"She's to blame for letting herself be influenced by Marian," disagreed Judith. "How do you suppose she found out about our going to invite the Bridge Street freshmen to the dance?"
"She must have, of a certainty, listened at our door," declared Adrienne.
"I don't believe she could hear a thing that way," disagreed Judith. "These doors are heavy. The sound doesn't go through them. Besides, she couldn't stand outside and eavesdrop long without being noticed by some one passing through the hall. Girls are always coming and going, you know."
"Yet how could she otherwise know these things?" insisted Adrienne.
"Give it up." Judith shook her head. "It's a mystery. She knew them. Maybe some day we'll know how she learned. We'll probably find out when we least expect to. Just stumble upon it long after we've forgotten all about it."
That evening after dinner, Jane indulged in one of her dark, floor-tramping moods. The disagreeable interview of the afternoon had left a bad taste in her mouth. She had done what she had deemed necessary, but at heart she was intensely disgusted with herself.
She wondered what Dorothy Martin would have done, given the same circumstances. She longed to tell Dorothy all about it, yet she felt that it belonged only to those whom it directly concerned.
"Do sit down and behave, Jane," admonished Judith. "You make me nervous. Your tramp, tramp, tramp gets into my head and I can't study. You act as though you'd committed a murder and hidden the body in the top drawer of the chiffonier."
"Excuse me, Judy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I guess the whole affair has gotten on my nerves."
With this apology, Jane sought a chair and made a half-hearted attempt at study. Gradually she drew her mind from unpleasant thoughts and proceeded to concentrate it upon her lessons for the next day.
It was not until she and Judith were preparing for bed that the latter re-opened the subject.
"Adrienne and I tried a little stunt of our own after dinner to-night," she confessed somewhat sheepishly. "Imp went into her room and I stood outside the door. She read a paragraph out loud from a book, but I couldn't understand a word she said. I could just catch the sound of her voice and that was all."
"Humph!" was Jane's sole reply.
"Yes, 'humph' if you want to. It goes to show that the ignoble Noble never got her information that way. The question is, 'How did she get it?'"
"I don't know and I don't care," returned Jane wearily. "Please, Judy, I want to forget the whole thing."
"I don't. I'm going to be an investigating investigator and solve the mystery. Watch slippery Judy, the dauntless detective of Madison Hall. Leave it to her to puzzle out the puzzle."
"Better forget it," advised Jane shortly.
"Oh, never! Let me have at least one worthy object in life, won't you?" was Judith's blithe plea. "Never mind, Imp will support and admire my ambition, even if you don't."
Judith was not in the least cast down by the defeat of an unworthy foe. She was glad of it. Brought up among girls, she was too much used to such squabbles to take them to heart.
For the next three days she and Adrienne amused themselves by planning wild schemes to entrap the "ignoble Noble" and wring from her a confession of her nefarious methods. So wild, indeed, were their projects that the mere discussion of them invariably sent them into peals of laughter.
As a matter of fact, neither could devise a plausible scheme by which they might discover what they burned to know. Both were agreed that chance alone would put them in possession of the much desired information.
Wednesday evening of the following week saw Jane, Adrienne, Judith and Norma set off in a taxicab for 605 Bridge Street to escort their new friends to the freshman frolic.
Due to the demand for taxicabs for that evening, they had been able to secure only one, whereas they needed two. They had decided to overcome this difficulty by having the driver make two trips, carrying four girls at each trip.
According to Judith, "We could all squeeze into one taxi, but I have too much respect for my costly apparel to risk it."
The quartette of escorting sophomores made a pretty picture that evening as they trooped down the steps of the Hall to the waiting taxicab.
Jane had chosen a particularly stunning frock of silver tissue, worn over a foundation of dull green satin. In lieu of flowers, a single beautiful spray of English ivy trailed across one white shoulder. The gown was the handsomest she owned and she had originally intended to save it for a later festivity. Realizing that she must inevitably become a target for the displeased eyes of those who disliked her, she had decided that so far as apparel went she would leave no room for criticism.
Adrienne, who loved daring colors, had elected to appear in a chiffon creation, the exact shade of an American Beauty rose. It set off her dark, vivid loveliness to perfection. Designed by herself, it had been fashioned by a French woman who attended to the making of her distinguished mother's gowns. In consequence, it was a triumph of its kind. As a last touch, a cluster of short-stemmed American Beauties nestled against the low-cut bodice of the gown.
Judith looked charming in a white net over apricot taffeta with a bunch of sunset roses tucked into the black velvet ribbon sash that completed the costume.
Norma was wearing the becoming blue and white gown Jane had given her the previous year. Since that first eventful freshman dance, when Jane had played fairy godmother to her, she had worn the exquisite frock only once. Now it looked as fresh and dainty as it had on that immemorial night. Trimmed as it was with clusters of velvet forget-me-nots, Norma wore no natural flowers.
Though she had by her summer's work in the stock company earned immunity from drudgery, she had earned no more than that. With the exception of this one gown, she dressed almost as simply as in the old days. She confined her wardrobe to one or two serviceable one-piece dresses, a coat suit and a quantity of dainty white silk blouses and lingerie. These last were fashioned and laundered by her own clever fingers.
"I hope we're not too fine for our girls," Norma remarked anxiously as the four skipped, one after the other, from the taxicab at the Bridge Street address.
"I thought of that, too, but I decided that they'd like it if we looked our very smartest. They are too independent to feel crushed by a mere matter of fine clothes," was Jane's opinion.
The frank admiration with which the four freshmen exclaimed over their gorgeous escorts served to point to the accuracy of her opinion.
"You're regular birds of Paradise!" laughed Freda. "We are certainly lucky to capture such prizes. We're not a bit splendiferous, ourselves. But then, why should we be? It wouldn't match with our humble status."
"You look sweet, every one of you," praised Judith. "Your gowns are dear. They are wonderfully becoming."
"We made them ourselves last summer," explained Kathie with a little air of pride. "We clubbed together and bought a bolt of this white Persian lawn. Ida crocheted these butterfly medallions set in Freda's gown and mine. Then Marie embroidered the designs on hers and Ida's gowns. Each dress is a little different from the other, yet they all look pretty much alike."
"They are all beautiful," Jane warmly assured.
She could say so in absolute truth. Simple, graceful lines, combined with dainty hand-wrought trimmings had produced four frocks which would have sold at a high price in an exclusive city dress shop.
"Ah, but you are the clever ones!" bubbled Adrienne. "It is we who must be proud of you. I would that ma mère could see these frocks. She would, of a certainty, rave with the delight. Ma mère, you must know, is the true Frenchwoman who appreciates highly the beautiful handwork such as this."
"You rather take us off our feet," smiled Marie. "We were not expecting it, you know."
The brightness in her own eyes was reflected in that of her chums. Girl-like, they found exquisite happiness in being thus appreciated.
"We'd better be starting," Jane presently proposed. "We could get only one taxi, so four of us will have to go first and four more in a second load."
Jane's anxiety to be starting lay not entirely in her natural impatience of delay. She was not quite easy in mind regarding the reception awaiting them. Marian Seaton had been chosen to stand in the receiving line. That in itself was sufficient to make her believe that the earlier the ordeal of formal greeting could be gone through with the better it would be for all concerned.
She did not doubt that Marian was in full possession of the facts concerning her cousin's recent defeat. It would be exactly like Marian to create a disagreeable scene. If this had to happen, she preferred that it should take place before the majority of the crowd arrived.
She had expressed this fear to Judith who had scouted at the idea on the grounds that Marian "wouldn't be crazy enough to make an idiot of herself before everybody."
"You and Adrienne go first with your ladies, Judy," she continued. "If you don't mind, I wish you'd wait in the corridor for the rest of us. We'll be only a few minutes behind you."
"It's just like this, girls," she turned to the four freshmen. "I'm not borrowing trouble, but if any of the sophs in the receiving line act—well—not very cordial, you needn't be surprised. It will be because of that paper you girls wouldn't sign. I hadn't mentioned it before, but——" Jane paused. "The girl gave it to us. We destroyed it," she added with a briefness that did not invite questioning.
"I'm glad you destroyed it," congratulated Freda.
"So am I," came in concert from her three chums.
"We're not a bit sensitive," lightly assured Ida Leonard. "We aren't going to let a few snubs spoil our good time."
"I guess we'll be sufficient unto ourselves," predicted Kathie optimistically. "Now we'd better get our flowers, pals, so as not to keep our distinguished cavaliers waiting."
Excusing themselves, the quartette of freshmen repaired to the tiny back porch, where the four bouquets of roses sent them by their escorts had been carefully placed in water to keep them fresh against the time of use.
"They are awfully thoroughbred, aren't they?" commented Judith in an undertone. "Never a question about that ignoble Noble mix-up. Honestly, Jane, do you think Marian will behave like a donkey?"
Laughter greeted this inquiry. Jane immediately grew grave.
"It wouldn't surprise me," she shrugged. "We can't expect, naturally, that she will notice us as we pass her in the receiving line. Certainly we sha'n't notice her. If only she doesn't say something hateful to us that will attract attention. I mean, about our freshmen."
The return into the room of the latter, each laden with a big bouquet of fragrant roses, cut short the conversation.
Half an hour and the eight girls were reunited in the corridor leading to the gymnasium. Each cavalier gallantly offering an arm to the freshman of her choice, they walked two by two into the gymnasium, which had been transformed for the night into a veritable ball room. It was already fairly well filled with daintily gowned girls, who stood about, or sat in little groups, talking animatedly.
Near the entrance to the room, the reception committee were lined up in all their glory. Jane's quick glance discerned Marian Seaton, resplendent in an elaborate gown of pale blue satin, standing at the far end of the line. Her usually arrogant features wore an expression of fatuous complacency. It took wing the instant she spied Jane and her friends.
"Now it's coming," was Jane's mental conviction, as she noted the swift lowering change in the other girl's face.
Heading the little procession with Ida Leonard, Jane suddenly saw her way clear. She could only hope that the others of her group would take their cue from her.