Marjorie Dean, College Junior

“So it seems to me,” nodded Miss Hamilton. “I have lived in it many years. I am not over the wonder of it yet. At times I am sorry that others cannot enjoy it with me. Again I am glad to be alone.”

Following the old lady, who mounted the broad staircase as nimbly as any of them, they found on the second landing the same solid magnificence of furnishing that marked the first floor. Down a long hallway, which extended back from the main reception hall, they went. At the end of the hall was a door of heavy walnut, its upper half of stained glass. This their guide opened. They were now seeing the room where the founder of Hamilton College had spent so many hours planning the institution which bore his name.

The murmur of voices died out among them as they stepped into the study. Compared with other rooms in the house which the girls had seen, it was rather small. The floor was bare save for one medium-sized rug in the center of the room, on which stood a heavy-legged mahogany writing table. A tall desk, a book-case, three high-backed chairs and a filing cabinet, all of carved mahogany, completed the furnishings, plus one broad-seated chair, leather cushioned, and with a rounding back. It was drawn up before the library table; Brooke Hamilton’s own chair.

The most notable object in the study was a framed, illuminated oblong about five feet long and perhaps two and a half feet wide. It was hung at a point on the wall directly opposite the founder’s chair.

“This is what you wished us to see, isn’t it?” Marjorie cried out, stopping in front of the oblong. “I think I know what it is.”

“Tell us, then.” Miss Susanna was smiling fondly at the animated face Marjorie turned toward her.

“The maxims of Mr. Brooke Hamilton,” she guessed breathlessly. Her eyes traveled slowly down the oblong. “There are fifteen of them,” she announced. “What a beautiful illumination!”

“Yes; they were his favorite sayings. He originated them all except the first one. More, he lived up to them.” The old lady’s intonation had grown singularly gentle.

A reverent silence visited the study as the knot of girls gathered about the oblong to read the sayings of one long gone from earth. The colors used in the illumination were principally blue and gold with mere touches of green and black. Red had been left out entirely from the color scheme.

“Remember the stranger within thy gates.”

“To the wise nothing is forbidden.”

“Becoming earnestness is never out of place.”

“Let thy gratitude be lasting.”

“Ask Heaven for courtesy; the supply is greater than the demand.”

“Make thy deference to age not too marked.”

“Truth flies a winning pennant.”

“Beware, lest what seems unattainable falls too near thine hand.”

“Let thy learning be seasoned with merriment.”

“O, Justice, how fair art thine heights!”

“Be motivated by the grace of God.”

“Be not secret; be discreet.”

“For the gift of life give thanks.”

“The ways of light reach upward to eternity.”

“To stumble honorably is to learn to walk.”

Such were the informal rules of conduct which Brooke Hamilton had carved for himself with the blade of experience.

“We have five of these at the college, Miss Susanna.” Ronny finally broke the spell which had fallen. “The first, third, fourth, seventh and ninth. ‘Remember the stranger within thy gates,’ is over the doorway of Hamilton Hall. The ninth one is in the library and the third, fourth and seventh are in the chapel.”

“I knew some of them were there. The first he had placed over the door of Hamilton Hall. The others were to be presented to the college as the students earned them.”

“Earned them?” queried Muriel impulsively. “I don’t understand——” She broke off, coloring at her own temerity. Her companions were also looking slightly mystified.

“His idea was this. He wished to reward any particularly noteworthy act on the part of a student, of which he chanced to hear, by an honor. The recipient was to receive a citation in chapel and one of his favorite maxims, decoratively framed, was to be hung in one of the campus buildings. A record of the citation was to be established in an honor book kept in a special niche in the chapel. This was one of his later ideas. He did not live to carry it out. I don’t know how they managed to get hold of four of his sayings. They have no right to them.”

Acridity again dominated Miss Susanna’s tones. She appeared to resent deeply the fact that the college authorities held any information whatsoever regarding her famous kinsman.

“Maybe a person who knew your great uncle remembered these four maxims of his and they were thus handed down,” suggested Lucy, always interested in a mystery.

“I wish we had them all; everyone of them!” Marjorie gave an audible sigh of regret. “I can’t help saying it, Miss Susanna. It is the way I feel about these true, wonderful sayings of Mr. Brooke Hamilton.”

“You may say it without offending me, my dear. I understand you and your affection for Hamilton College. He would have liked you to say it. He never held a grudge. I have held one many years. I shall continue to hold it.” Miss Susanna crested her stubborn head. “It is a supreme pleasure to me to know that I have thwarted the college board in some respects. I shall continue to thwart them.”

CHAPTER XVII—LUCY’S NEWS

Marjorie and Robin Page, who, according to Jerry, “had gone into the show business,” had their hands full the moment they returned to Hamilton. They tackled the enterprise with a will, however, and within a couple of days after resuming the difficult duties of managership they had made considerable headway.

“Have you those posters yet?” greeted Robin, as she joyfully pounced upon Marjorie on the steps of the library. “I have been trying to see you ever since yesterday morning. I was coming over last night, but I simply had to stay at home and study. I struck a horrible snag in calculus and struggled with it half the evening.”

“Ethel said she would have them done tomorrow,” was the comforting news. “She made four. I imagine they must be beauties, too.”

“Uh-h-h!” Robin pretended to crumple with relief. “That’s one torture off my mind. Naturally they will be great stuff. Ethel Laird draws better than any other girl at Hamilton. It was mighty fine in her to take such a job on herself. I asked her for only one you know.”

“Probably she saw a wistful gleam in your eye and was kind,” laughed Marjorie.

“There will be an entirely different gleam in my eye if those printers don’t hurry up with the programmes. Last I heard from them they hadn’t even started the work. We really took a good deal upon ourselves when we started this show. I’m glad I am not a manager for my living. It is too strenuous a life for Robin.”

“We ought to call a rehearsal Saturday evening. There won’t be anyone caring to use the gym, and there won’t be much time for it next week in the evenings, with all the studying we have to do. Just recall, the show is to be next Friday evening,” was Marjorie’s reminder.

“Oh, I know it,” groaned Robin. “I shall be enraged, infuriated and foaming at the mouth if those aggravating printers don’t have our programmes done in time.”

“They will. Don’t worry. When did they promise you the tickets?”

“Tomorrow. They’ve done fairly well with the tickets,” Robin grudgingly conceded. “That is, provided they deliver them tomorrow, as promised. I am just a little tired, I guess. I like the programme part of getting up a show, but I don’t like the tiresome details.”

“Come on over to Baretti’s,” invited Marjorie. “What you need is sustenance. We can talk things over and have dinner at the same time. I can stay out until eight. It’s only five-fifteen now. We shall have oceans of time.”

“All right. Don’t you believe, though, that we’ll have much chance to talk. Some of our gang will be there, sure as fate,” Robin prognosticated.

Surely enough, they were greeted by a hospitable quartette occupying a table near the door. It was composed of Ronny, Jerry, Elaine Hunter and Barbara Severn.

“Aren’t you going home to dinner?” quizzed Jerry accusingly. “And you never said a word to me this noon of your secret intentions.”

“I hadn’t any. May I ask why you are here without having obtained my permission?” Marjorie drew down her face in an imitation of Miss Merton, a Sanford teacher both girls had greatly disliked.

“I have nothing to say,” chuckled Jerry. “You and your friend may sit at our table, if you like.”

“Thank you. My friend and I have weighty matters to discuss. We’re in the show business now, Jeremiah. We are bound for that last table in the row.” Marjorie pointed. “We’ll join you later, and please don’t disturb us. Ahem!”

“I don’t even know either of you by sight. Beat it.” Jerry waved both girls away with a magnificent gesture of disdain which sent them, giggling, toward their table.

“This is my first off-the-campus treat since we talked about getting up the show that day we went to Hamilton,” Marjorie confided to Robin. “I have thirty-eight dollars saved. Captain gave me twenty-five when I came away from home. I told her I did not need it, but you see I had told her about saving my money, too. That’s the reason she gave it to me. I seem not to be able to make any real sacrifices,” Marjorie smiled ruefully.

“I have saved close to thirty. I could have saved more, but I have had three Silvertonites to remember on their birthdays. Not my pals, but girls who appreciate remembrances and who don’t receive many. I haven’t been here but twice since we had that talk. We mustn’t desert Signor Baretti, either. He would feel dreadfully if we stopped patronizing his tea room.”

“We will have to try to please all our friends somehow, and ourselves, too,” Marjorie said gayly.

Their dinner ordered, the two settled down to talk over the progress of their “show” with the business energy of two real theatrical managers. Later, however, Jerry and her trio sidled up to the forbidden table and were graciously allowed to remain. In consequence, it was half-past eight before the party left the tea room.

“Lucy will wonder what has become of me,” Ronny declared, as the three Lookouts entered Wayland Hall. “I told her this noon I was not going anywhere after recitations. Oh, dear! I am a nice person! I promised to help Muriel with her French, before dinner. I forgot all about it until this minute. She will be raving.”

“You seem to be in a bad case all around,” sympathized Marjorie in most unsympathetic tones. “I’m sorry for you.”

“I’m a great deal more sorry for myself,” retorted Jerry.

“I haven’t broken any promise by staying out, but I won’t do much studying tonight. Let me see, what recitations do I have tomorrow that I can slight the least tiny bit?” Marjorie puckered her brows over her problem.

Entering their room, the first sight that met hers and Jerry’s eyes was Lucy Warner, fast asleep in an arm chair. Jerry laid a warning finger against her lips, then she stole softly up to Lucy.

“Wake up and pay for your lodgings,” she growled in a deep, hoarse voice.

“Oh-h! Ah-h!” Lucy sat up with a suddenness which narrowly missed landing her on the floor. “I thought you would never come home,” she mumbled, not yet fully awake. Blinking sleepily at the two laughing girls, she continued: “I had some news for you. I sat down to wait until you came. Ronny was out; so was Muriel. I’ve been here since eight o’clock. Were you out to dinner?”

“That means you were not here.” Jerry pointed an arraigning finger at Lucy. “Where have you been? Lately you have become a regular gad-about. It must be stopped, Luciferous.”

“Gad-about nothing,” disclaimed Lucy. “You, not I, belong to that deplorable class, Jeremiah Macy. I have been working. True, I dined outside the Hall, and in distinguished company. I am President Matthews’ secretary pro tem. I had dinner at his house tonight. I told you I had news for you.”

“Can you beat that?” Jerry sank into the nearest chair as though about to collapse. “You are mounting the college scale by leaps and bounds, aren’t you? Chummy with the registrar, a friend of Professor Wenderblatt’s, and now established in Doctor Matthews’ good graces. The unprecedented rise of Luciferous Warniferous; or, Secretaries who have become famous.”

“How did it happen? Where is Miss Sayres?” Marjorie exhibited lively curiosity at the news.

“Miss Sayres is at home with a cold. Nothing very serious, I imagine. Miss Humphrey recommended me to the doctor. He was away behind in his correspondence. Miss Sayres has been ill for two days. It was nearly six when I finished his letters. He still had an address to dictate. He asked me if I would stay until after dinner and take the dictation. I had a beautiful time. He and his wife are such friendly persons. He is a great biologist, too. His son was there. He is a New York lawyer and is home for a few days’ visit.” Lucy added this last without enthusiasm.

“Well, well, Luciferous!” patronized Jerry. “And were you afraid to talk to the young man?”

“Oh, stop teasing me! No, I was not. He talked to his mother most of the time, anyway. I must go and find Ronny. Was she with you girls?” Lucy rose, gathered her books from the table, and prepared to depart.

“She was with us, Lucy. You’d better stay and talk to us,” coaxed Marjorie. “It’s growing later and later and still I am not studying. I might as well wind up a pleasant but unprofitable evening with gossiping about Doctor Matthews. Come on back and resume your chair, Miss Warner.”

Lucy had now reached the door. “Wait until I go and see Ronny, and I will come back.” She exited, returning five minutes afterward with Ronny.

“You don’t seem to have the study habit tonight, either,” commented Jerry genially to the new arrival. “Well, sit down and have a good time. That’s what college is for.”

“How do you like the doctor, Lucy?” There was a note of sharp interest in the question. Marjorie was anxious to hear Lucy’s opinion of the president. “I know you said he was friendly; but, I mean, what do you think of him in other ways?”

“I understand you. You are thinking of Miss Remson. So was I, whenever I had a chance to study the man. He is one of the kindest, finest men I have ever come in contact with,” Lucy declared impressively. “He is so courteous; he goes to great pains in answering his letters. I know he never wrote that letter to Miss Remson.”

“I felt that way about him, too, the day I played messenger for Miss Humphrey.” Marjorie nodded agreement of Lucy’s emphatic praise.

“I wish I could solve that letter mystery while I am there.” Lucy’s green eyes gleamed. “My one chance would be to have a talk about it with Doctor Matthews. That’s not likely to happen. I could find out a good deal about Miss Sayres by going through the letter files, but I would die rather than touch one of them. I shall only be there for a day or two, I suppose. If I could be his secretary for two or three weeks I might be able to say a good word for Miss Remson. I am sure there has been a great misrepresentation and I believe Miss Sayres is at the bottom of it.”

“What would you do, Luciferous, if, while you were there, you found out something that was plain proof against the Sans?” was Marjorie’s thoughtful query.

“I would take it up with Doctor Matthews at once, wouldn’t you, in the same circumstances?”

“Yes,” came the unhesitating reply. “That is the one thing I have always thought I would not mind telling against the Sans.” Marjorie’s features grew sternly determined. “It was such a cruel thing to do; to estrange two friends of such long standing. For all we know, Doctor Matthews may wonder why Miss Remson has not visited him and his wife for over a year.”

“It is not likely that I shall find any such proof. If I should, I would use it very quickly. Miss Remson was dreadfully hurt over that miserable letter. I would put the proof before Doctor Matthews if I had to fight all the Sans single-handed afterward.”

CHAPTER XVIII—WHEN FRIENDS BECOME FOES

Lucy’s secretaryship for Doctor Matthews lasted only three days. During that short space of time she found out nothing special, bearing on the wrong to Miss Remson which she longed to right. She learned to like the president of Hamilton College better than ever, and wished she might work for him longer. The only item of interest she came across was at his residence. In the secretary’s desk there she discovered the New York address of Leslie Cairns in a small red leather address book. To her analytical mind this was proof enough of an acquaintance between the two.

She had not expected to do anything of moment toward helping Miss Remson during those three days. Still she could not help confessing to Marjorie that she was a wee bit disappointed at not having learned a single thing.

“Never mind, Luciferous,” Marjorie had consoled. “You had the will to help Miss Remson if you did not have the opportunity. It may all come to light when you least expect it. That’s the way such things often happen.”

While Lucy had deplored her inability to obtain the desired information she legitimately sought, the Sans loudly deplored among themselves her temporary appointment as secretary. Coupled with it a story had reached the ears of Natalie Weyman and Joan Myers which caused them to flee to Leslie Cairns in a hurry. It had to do with the hazing party the previous February. Joan had been slyly taxed with it first. Pretending innocence, she had made an excuse to leave the senior who had intimated it to her without having betrayed herself in any particular.

Several days afterward she and Natalie Weyman had gone through almost the same experience with two juniors who had appeared to treat the affair as a huge joke. The girl who had first hinted it to Joan had been rather horrified over what she had evidently heard.

“I think it is high time we called Dulcie Vale to account!” Natalie exclaimed stormily, as she finished the recital of what she and Joan had just heard.

The two had burst in upon Leslie, regardless of the “Busy” sign which now ornamented her door a good deal of the time when she was in her room.

“Calm down, Nat. You are so mad you are fairly shouting. Take seats and have some candy, both of you.” Leslie lazily pushed a huge box of nut chocolates across the table within easy reach of her excited callers.

“Um-m! Glaucaire’s best!” Natalie forgot her wrath and helped herself to sweets.

“I had made up my mind before you two burst in with your tale of woe that Dulcie had escaped long enough. I have heard things, too, and just lately. Dulcie is not the only one. She talked to Bess. Bess Walbert is as busy a little news circulator as you’d care to find.”

“What did I tell you?” Natalie cried out in triumph.

“You were right, Nat. I give you credit for reading her correctly. I haven’t seen her since the first of the week. When I do——” Leslie nodded her head, looking thoroughly disagreeable. Elizabeth Walbert was in for a very stormy interview with her.

“When will you call the meeting, Les?” anxiously inquired Joan. “Don’t put it off. No telling how much more mischief Dulcie may do if she isn’t curbed promptly.”

“Tomorrow night,” Leslie named. “See as many of the Sans as you can between now and the ten-thirty bell. Don’t go near Loretta Kelly’s and Della Byron’s room. Dulcie goes there a good deal lately. Della is coming to see me this evening after dinner. I’ll tell her then. Let me know before the last bell tonight how many of the girls are on, Nat. Will you?”

“Surely, Leslie dear.” Natalie had simmered down to affability. She was very proud of Leslie’s confidence in her.

Left alone, Leslie settled back in her chair very much as her father might have done on the eve of a pitched battle on the stock exchange. Her eyes roved about her room as she planned where the culprit should stand, where she wished the Sans to group themselves, and where her place as conductor of the arraignment should be.

A half smile flitted across her face as she remembered the last high tribunal she had conducted. This time the culprit was a real one. It had been hard to trump up charges against “Bean.” There would be no masks worn save the mask of deceit which she would ruthlessly strip from Dulcie, showing her in her true colors. After she was “all through” with Dulcie she would read the riot act to Bess Walbert. She wished to wait, however, until the sophomore unsuspectingly came to her for a favor. Then she would be shown a side of Leslie she had not dreamed existed.

At twenty minutes after ten Natalie came to Leslie’s room with the welcome news that “every last Sans” except Loretta and Della had been told and would be on hand promptly at eight o’clock the next evening.

“I saw Loretta and Della,” Leslie informed her chum. “They are wild. They heard that Dulc told two juniors about my renting that house for six months so we could use it when we hazed Bean. That’s a nice report to have in circulation on the campus, now isn’t it? Does that sound like Dulc, or doesn’t it?”

“Dulcie told that, undoubtedly. There were not more than six or seven of us who knew the terms on which you rented that house. Dulc knew. You always let her into extra private matters because she was one of the old guard. You and she were not so edgeways toward each other until after the night of the masquerade.”

“We never agreed on a single thing. Away back at prep school Dulc and I were always squabbling. In her heart she has never really liked me. Since the masquerade she has cordially hated me. That’s about my feeling toward her. I want her out of the Sans. She is a disgrace to them. I expected Nell Ray would fight for her, but she gave in as nicely as you please.”

“The girls are all down on her for telling tales,” returned Natalie. “I wonder if she thinks they don’t know the way she has gossiped about them?”

“She will know it tomorrow night,” asserted Leslie shortly.

“There goes the bell. I had better beat it. I have an hour’s studying to do tonight yet, and I am so sleepy,” Natalie yawned. “One thing more.” Half way across the threshold she turned and reentered the room. “How are you going to get Dulc on the scene?”

“Harriet is to tell her, late tomorrow afternoon, that the Sans are to meet in my room tomorrow night at eight to discuss something very important. She will come. She will be eaten up with curiosity to know what is going on. She’ll be just a little bit surprised when she learns how much she has to do with that important discussion.” Leslie threw back her head and laughed in her silent fashion.

“She deserves it.” Natalie’s whole face hardened perceptibly. “Look out for her, Les. She is capable of making a lot of fuss. We don’t care to have Remson coming up here to see what the trouble is.”

“If she is noisy, half a dozen of us will simply take her by the arms and bundle her off to her own room. It is only three doors from here,” Leslie answered with cool decision. “I can manage her, I think.”

The next day Dulcie received word of the meeting through the medium of Harriet. The latter delivered the notice in a careless tone which completely misled Dulcie.

“Why can’t it be some place besides Leslie Cairns’ room?” Dulcie pettishly demanded. “I hate to go near her!”

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Harriet. “You can’t say I didn’t tell you about it. It won’t be any place other than Leslie’s room.”

Her simulated indifference merely aroused in Dulcie a contrary resolve to attend that meeting at all costs. She had not been in Leslie’s room since the opening of college. She had a curiosity to see what changes Leslie had made in it from the previous year. Strangely enough, her own misdeeds never crossed her mind. She had no thought, when regaling others with her chums’ private affairs, that such treachery might possibly bring her a day of reckoning. The recent quarrels she had had with her former intimate, Eleanor Ray, and also Joan Myers, left no impression on her save a sullen dislike for the two girls because they had taken her to task for betraying their confidence.

As it was, she accepted an invitation to dinner at the Colonial extended her by Alida Burton. She lingered so long at the tea room that she walked into Leslie’s room at ten minutes past eight.

Slow of comprehension, even she felt dimly the tension of the moment. The Sans sat or stood in little groups about the room. With her entrance, conversation suddenly languished and died out. Every pair of eyes was leveled at her in a cool fashion which bordered on hostility.

“It seems to me you are all very quiet tonight. What’s the matter? Peevish because I’m late? Yes? What? Don’t cry. Ten minutes won’t kill any of you,” she greeted flippantly. “Hope I haven’t missed anything by being a tiny bit behind time.” She had adopted Leslie’s insolent swagger.

“No; you haven’t missed anything,” Leslie said dryly. “We were waiting for you.” She turned abruptly from Dulcie, addressing the others.

“Girls,” she raised her voice a trifle, “bring your chairs and arrange them on each side of the davenport in a half circle. Six girls can sit on the davenport. We are all here now, so we can proceed with the business of the evening.”

Her order promptly obeyed, the Sans settled themselves in their chairs with mingled emotions. None of them had a definite idea of how Leslie intended to conduct the embarrassing session against Dulcie. Face to face with the momentous occasion, a few of them felt slightly inclined toward clemency. The older members of the Sans were too greatly incensed by her treachery to do other than approve of the humiliation about to descend on the traitor.

It had been Leslie’s first idea to seat Dulcie in a particular chair. Second thought assured her that Dulcie would refuse the chair, merely to be contrary. She would undoubtedly sit where she would be most conspicuous if left to her own devices. Leslie decided the rest of the Sans must sit in a compact group. Wherever Dulcie might choose to post herself in the room she could not escape arraignment.

While the girls were arranging their chairs, Leslie occupied herself with hanging a heavy velvet curtain in front of the door leading to the hall. That task completed, she turned to find Dulcie had seated herself on the left hand side of the semi-circle, the last girl in the row. She had pulled her chair forward a trifle so as to command a good view of the company.

Dulcie was well-pleased with herself. She was still admiring her brazen entrance into the room. She felt that she had quite outdone Leslie in matter of cool insolence. In fact she was much better able to direct the club than Leslie. She wondered the girls had never realized it. She eyed Leslie with ill-concealed contempt as the latter seated herself in the chair of office which Natalie had placed in the fairly wide space between the ends of the half circle. Les grew homelier every day, was her uncharitable opinion.

“We are here tonight to perform a duty, which, though not pleasant, must be done.” Leslie made this beginning with only a slight drawl to her tones. “When we organized the Sans Soucians we all promised to be loyal to one another. I regret to say that one of our number has so completely violated this promise it becomes necessary to take drastic measures. We cannot allow a Sans to betray deliberately either club or personal secrets.”

Leslie placed great stress on “deliberately.” She was careful not to look toward Dulcie. “Do you agree with me in this?” She put the question generally.

“Yes,” was the concerted, emphatic answer. Dulcie’s voice helped to swell the chorus.

“The Sans have done certain things as a matter of reprisal and self-defense, which, if generally known, would entail very serious consequences. It is vital to our welfare at Hamilton that these matters should be kept secret, yet a member of the Sans has gossiped them to outsiders. For example, it is known to a number of seniors and juniors outside the Sans that a hazing affair took place last St. Valentine’s night, conducted by the Sans. Seven of us have been approached on this subject. We know, to a certainty, that a faction, antagonistic to us, did not start this story.

“Still more serious is a report brought to me concerning the methods employed by Joan and I to keep a residence for the Sans at the Hall when we were threatened with expulsion from here as sophomores. A person who will betray such intimate matters, knowing that her treachery may ruin the prospects of her chums for graduation from college, is not only a fool for risking her own safety, but a menace to the club as well.”

For ten minutes Leslie talked on in this strain, her hearers observing a strained silence. She was purposely piling up the enormity of Dulcie’s misdeed so as to impress the others. As for Dulcie, she had begun to show signs of nervousness. Once or twice her eyes measured the distance from her chair to the door as if she were meditating sudden flight. What remnants of conscience she still had, stirred to the point of informing her that the coat Leslie was airing fitted her too snugly for comfort. She had not yet arrived at the moment of awakening, however. She believed Leslie’s remarks to be directed toward someone else. Margaret Wayne, perhaps; or, Loretta Kelly. Leslie had once said to her that Loretta was a gossip. Dulcie now tried to recall an instance of Loretta’s perfidy. It would be to her interest to cite an instance of it should Leslie call for special evidence. It would pay Loretta back for once having called her a stupid little owl.

In the midst of racking her vindictive brain for evidence against a fellow member, Dulcie lost briefly the thread of Leslie’s discourse. Mention of her own name re-furnished her with it.

“Dulciana Vale,” she heard Leslie saying in a tense note quite different from her indolent drawl, “do you know of any reason why you should be allowed a further membership in the Sans Soucians after having become an utter traitor to their interests?”

Dulcie struggled to her feet, her sulky features a study in slow-growing rage. “What—what—do you—mean?” Her voice was rising to a gasping scream. “How dare you call me a traitor. You are telling lies; just nothing but lies.”

CHAPTER XIX—IN THE INTEREST OF PRIVATE SAFETY

“Pay no attention to her,” Leslie advised her chums in a cold, level voice. “She can tell more yarns to the second than anyone else I know.”

“You said you could manage her, Les. For goodness’ sake do so. I am afraid she’ll be heard down stairs.” Joan Myers sprang to her feet in exasperation.

“Leave that to me.” Leslie’s eyes snapped. She was fast losing the admirable poise she had held so well. The real Leslie Cairns was coming to the surface.

Three or four lithe steps and she was facing Dulcie. The latter still stood by her chair shrieking forth invective.

“Listen to me, you idiot,” she said with an intensity of wrath that approached a snarl. “Cut out that screaming—now. We are done with you. We know you for what you are. Not one of us will ever speak to you again after you leave this room. Get that straight. If you ever repeat another word on the campus of the Sans’ business you will be a sorry girl. Don’t you forget that. You carried the idea that, if trouble came from your talk, you could slide out of it and leave us to face it. You couldn’t have cleared yourself. What you are to do from now on is——”

A sharp rapping at the door interrupted Leslie. Raising a warning finger to her lips, she crossed the room to answer the knock.

“Good evening, Miss Remson,” she coldly greeted. “Will you come in? Our club is holding a meeting in my room.” She made an indifferent gesture toward the assembled girls.

“Good evening, Miss Cairns. No; I do not wish to enter your room. I must insist, however, that you conduct your meeting quietly. The commotion going on in here can be heard downstairs.”

The very impersonality of the manager’s reproof brought a quick rush of blood to Leslie’s cheeks. It was as though Miss Remson considered Leslie and her companions so far beneath her it took conscientious effort on her part even to reprove them. It stung Leslie to a desire to clear herself of the opprobrium.

“I am sorry about the noise,” she apologized in annoyed embarrassment. “Miss Vale is responsible for it. I have been trying to quiet her. She is very angry with us for calling her to account for disloyalty. She has done so many despicable things we felt it necessary to call a meeting of the club to——”

“Pardon me. I am not interested in anything save the fact that there must be no more screaming or loud altercation from this room tonight or at any other time. As it is your room, Miss Cairns, I shall hold you responsible for the good behavior of your guests.”

Again the aloofness of the rebuke cut Leslie through and through. She had never believed that she could be so utterly snubbed by “Trotty” Remson.

“Very well.” It was the only thing she could think of to say.

Miss Remson turned from the door and went on down the long hall. Leslie was seized with a savage inclination to bang the door. She refrained from indulging it. There had been enough noise already.

She returned to her companions to find Dulcie furious because she had been reported to Miss Remson as the author of the commotion.

“Talk about anyone being treacherous,” she stormed, but in a more subdued key. “You’re treacherous as a snake. You’d tell tales on—on your own father, if it would save you from disgrace.”

“That’s enough.” Leslie’s last atom of self-control vanished. “I am tired of your foolishness. Get out of my room, instantly. Don’t you ever dare even speak to me again. Let me hear one word you have said against any of us and I will have you expelled within twenty-four hours afterward. I can do it, too. If you go to headquarters with any tales against us, remember you are one and we are seventeen who will act as one in denying your fairy stories. You——”

“Not fairy stories,” sneered Dulcie. “I’d be satisfied to tell the truth about you deceitful things. It would more than run you out of Hamilton.”

“You couldn’t tell the truth to save your life,” retorted Leslie with a caustic contempt which hit Dulcie harder than anything else Leslie had said to her.

“I—I—think——” Dulcie struggled with her emotions, then suddenly burst into hysterical sobs. Her arm against her face to shut her distorted features from sight of her accusers, she stumbled to the door, groping for the knob with her free hand. An instant and she had gone, too thoroughly humiliated to slam the door after her. The sounds of her weeping could be faintly heard by the others until her own door closed behind her.

“Gone!” Joan Myers sighed exaggerated relief.

“Yes; and broken,” announced Leslie Cairns with cruel satisfaction.

“Oh, I don’t know,” differed Margaret Wayne. She had not forgotten Dulcie’s assertion as to what Leslie had said of her and Loretta. “Dulc had spunk enough to answer you back to the very last. I don’t see that——”

“No, you don’t see. Well, I do. I say that Dulcie Vale left here just now utterly crushed,” argued Leslie with stress. “You are peeved, Margaret, because of what she claimed I said of you and Retta. She lied.”

“Certainly, Dulcie lied,” supported Natalie. “Do you believe that I, Leslie’s best friend, would say hateful things about her? Yet Dulc said I had. Didn’t Les warn you not to pay any attention to what she said? We knew she would try to make trouble among the Sans the minute we called her down.”

“We did, indeed.” Leslie made a movement of her head that betokened Dulcie’s utter hopelessness.

“I didn’t say I believed what Dulcie said,” half-apologized Margaret. In her heart she did not trust Leslie, however. It was like her to make just such remarks about any of the Sans if in bad humor.

“Never mind. It isn’t worrying me,” was the purposely careless response. “To go back to what you said about Dulc not being broken. I have known her longer than you, Margaret. She can keep up a row about so long, then she crumples. After that there isn’t a spark of fight left in her. She always ends by a fit of crying, next door to hysterics. Isn’t that true of her, Nat?”

Natalie nodded. “Yes; Dulcie will mind her own affairs now and keep her mouth closed for a long time to come.”

“She’s afraid of me,” Leslie continued, her intonation harsh. “She doesn’t know just the extent of my influence here.”

“Could you truly have her expelled within twenty-four hours?” queried Harriet Stephens somewhat incredulously.

“You heard me say so. It would take a very slight effort to do that. I could wire my father, then——” Leslie paused, looking mysterious. “Sorry, girls, but I can’t tell you any more than that. I’ll simply say that my wonderful father’s influence can remove mountains, if necessary. That’s why I was so furious with that little sneak for daring even to mention his name.”

“Could your father’s influence save you from being expelled if different things you have done here were brought up against you?” demanded Adelaide Forman.

Leslie’s eyes narrowed at the question. It was a little too searching for comfort. In reality her father’s influence at Hamilton was a minus quantity. She had been boasting with a view toward increasing her own importance.

“It would depend entirely on what I had done,” she answered after a moment’s thought. “You must understand that my father would be wild if he knew I had gone out hazing when it is strictly against rules. He wouldn’t do a thing to help me if I had trouble with Matthews over that. If I wrote him that Dulcie, for instance, was trying, by lies, to have me or my friends expelled from Hamilton, he would fight for me in a minute.”

The Sans stayed for some time in Leslie’s room planning how they would meet further remarks leveled at them on the campus as a result of Dulcie’s defection. Leslie brought forth a fresh five-pound box of chocolates and another of imported sweet crackers. The party feasted and enjoyed themselves regardless of the fact that three doors from them a former comrade writhed and wept in an agony of angry shame. While in a measure their course might be justified, there was not one among them who had not, to a certain extent, and at some time or other, betrayed friendship.

This was also Dulcie’s most bitter grievance against those who had been her chums. She knew now that she had talked too much. So had the others. Still, she was sorry for herself. She had been deceived in Bess Walbert. Bess was the one who had circulated most of the Sans’ private affairs. She could not recall just how much she had told Bess; very likely no more than had Leslie. If they had given her time she would have been able to defend herself. With such reflections she strove to palliate her own offenses.

“Do you imagine Dulc will try to get back at us?” was Natalie’s first remark to Leslie as the door closed on the departing Sans. “She carried on about as I thought she might. We came off easily with Remson, didn’t we?”

“Dulcie is done, I tell you,” reasserted Leslie with an impatient scowl. “Remson! Humph! My worst enemy couldn’t have delivered a more telling snub. She may suspect us of making trouble between her and Matthews. I’ll say, I wish this year was done and Commencement here. If we slide through and capture those precious diplomas without the sword falling it will be a miracle.”

CHAPTER XX—A BITTER PILL

“Why waste my good time listening to the far-off scrapping of the Sans?” she had lightly questioned. “There is some kind of row going on in Miss Cairns’ room. That’s the way it sounds to me. I can’t say who is giving the vocal performance. I don’t know the dear creatures well enough to tag that sweet voice. I could hear other doors besides ours open. We are not alone in our curiosity.”

“Your curiosity,” Marjorie had corrected. “I wasn’t enough interested to go to the door.” Marjorie had laughed teasingly.

“Stand corrected. My curiosity,” Jerry had obligingly answered. With that the subject had dropped as abruptly as the noise had begun.

The Sans were fortunate, in that the students residing at Wayland Hall, with the exception of themselves, were too fruitfully engaged in the minding of their own affairs to give more than a passing attention to the disturbance created by Dulcie Vale. Within the next two or three days they were agreeably surprised to find that no word of it had uttered on the campus.

“Has anyone said anything to you of Dulcie’s roars, howls and shrieks?” Leslie asked Natalie, half humorously. It was the fourth evening after the meeting in her room and the two were lounging in Natalie’s room doing a little studying and a good deal of talking.

“No. You can see for yourself what the girls in this house are; a mind-your-own-business crowd.” Natalie’s reply contained a certain amount of admiration. “If the story of it spreads over the campus, it will not be their fault. Sometimes I am sorry, Les, we didn’t go in for democracy from the first. We are cut out of a lot of good times by being so exclusive. Take this show that Miss Page and Miss Dean are going to give in the gym tomorrow night. Not one of the Sans was asked to be in it.”

“Hardly!” Leslie laughed and raised her eyebrows. “I can’t imagine Bean doing anything like that.”

“You needn’t make fun of me. We couldn’t expect to be asked to take part. I simply mentioned it as an example of the way things are. There is a great deal of sociability going on this year at Hamilton among the whole four classes, yet the Sans are as utterly out of it as can be,” Natalie complained with evident bitterness.

“Glad of it,” was the unperturbed retort. “Why yearn to be in a show, Nat, at this late stage of the game? Next winter, when you are in New York society, you’ll have plenty of opportunity for amateur theatricals.”

“Oh, I daresay I shall.” This did not console Natalie. Of all the Sans, she was the only one not satisfied with her lot. She would not have exchanged places with any student outside her own particular coterie. Still, she had dreamed from her freshman year of shining as a star in college theatricals. To her lasting disappointment, she had never been invited to take part in an entertainment. The Sans had neither the inclination nor the ability to engineer a play or revue. The democratic element at Hamilton did not require the Sans’ services.

“Are you going to that show?” Leslie cast a peculiar glance at her friend.

“I—well, yes; I bought a ticket.” Natalie appeared rather ashamed of the admission. “Did you buy one?” she hastily countered.

“Yes; two. Laura Sayres bought them for me. Humphrey has them for sale in her office. I asked Laura if everything were just the same with Matthews since that Miss Warner substituted for her. She said all was O. K. She has her files, letters and papers arranged so that no one could ever make trouble for her.”

“Too bad, Leslie, that Miss Warner was the one to substitute for Laura. It gave her a chance to meet Doctor Matthews. One never can tell what might develop from even so small an incident as that.” Natalie was not disposed to be reassuring that evening.

“Will you cut out croaking, Nat?” Leslie sprang from her chair and began a nervous pacing of the floor. “You might as well pour ice-water down the back of my neck. Enough annoying things have happened lately to worry me without having to reckon on what ‘might’ happen. I told Sayres to take good care of herself and try not to be away from her position again. I advised her, if ever she had to be away, even for a day, to supply her own sub. She should have had sense enough to do so the last time.”

“I am surprised that Miss Warner does secretarial work when that Miss Lynne she rooms with is wealthy in her own right,” commented Natalie.

“I suppose that green-eyed ice-berg wants to earn her own money. I made a mistake about Lynne. Her father is the richest man in the far west. My father told me so last summer. I always meant to tell you that and kept on forgetting it. He said then I ought to be friends with her, but I told him ‘nay, nay.’ She and I would be so pleased with each other.” Leslie smiled ironically.

“‘The richest man in the far west,’” repeated Natalie, her mind on that one enlightening sentence. “Too bad she isn’t our sort. We could ask her into the Sans in Dulcie’s place.”

“She wouldn’t leave Bean and Green-eyes and those two savages, Harding and Macy. I sometimes admire those two. They have so much nerve. Dulcie’s place will stay vacant. I wouldn’t ask Lola to join us after the way she has dropped me for Alida. As for Bess; she has yet to hear from me. I have an idea she and Dulc will get together. Dulc will tell her the news. Then Bess will sidle around me thinking she can get into the Sans. What? Watch my speed!” The corners of Leslie’s mouth went down contemptuously. She was a match for the self-seeking sophomore.

The next evening being that of the revue, Leslie and Natalie attended it together. The rest of the Sans had elected also to go to it. Leslie had advised against going in a body. “If we do, they’ll think we were anxious to see their old show,” she had argued. “We’d better scatter by twos and threes about the gym.”

By a quarter to eight the gymnasium was packed with students, faculty, and a goodly sprinkle of persons from the town of Hamilton who had friends among the students. Robin and Marjorie had worried for fear the programme might be too long. There would be sure to be encores. Their choice of talent, however, was so happy that the audience could not get enough of the various performers.

Marjorie was keyed up to the highest pitch of joy by the presence of Constance Stevens and Harriet Delaney. They had arrived from New York late that afternoon on purpose to take part in the show. While the wonder of Constance’s matchless high soprano notes in two grand opera selections awarded her a fury of applause, Harriet came in for her share of glory. It may be said that Constance and Veronica divided honors that evening.

Urged by Marjorie, Ronny had sent to Sanford for the black robe she used in the “Dance of the Night.” It had been in her room in Miss Archer’s house since the evening of the campfire three years before. Besides the “Dance of the Night” she gave a fine exhibition of Russian folk dancing in appropriate costume.

Marjorie had felt impelled to write Miss Susanna a special note of invitation inclosing several tickets. “Jonas or the maids might like our show, even if Miss Susanna won’t come. Of course she won’t, but I wanted her to have the tickets,” she had said to Jerry, who had agreed that her head was level and her heart in the right place as usual.

For the first time since the beginning of her hatred for Hamilton College, Miss Susanna had been sorely tempted to break her vow and attend the show. Realizing the sensation her presence on the campus would create, she quickly abandoned the impulse. She was half vexed with Marjorie for sending her tickets and made note to warn her never to send any more.

Of all the audience, those most impressed by performance and performers were the Sans. While they enjoyed the revue, girl-fashion, as a spectacle, the knowledge of the enemy’s triumph was hard to swallow. Ronny’s dancing was a revelation to them, astonishing and bitter. As each number appeared, perfect in its way, the realization of the cleverness of the girls they had affected to despise came home as a sharp thrust.

Leslie Cairns was particularly disgruntled as she hurried Natalie from the gymnasium and into the cold clear December night.

“Don’t talk to me, Nat,” she warned. “I am so upset I feel like howling my head off. The way Beanie has come to the front is a positive crime. Did you see her marching around the gym tonight as though she owned it?”

“It was a good show,” Natalie ventured.

“Entirely too good,” grumbled Leslie. “I don’t like to talk of it. Did I mention that Bess wrote me a note. She wants to see me about something very important.” Leslie placed satirical stress on the last three words. “She may see me but she won’t be pleased. I’m in a very bad humor tonight. I shall be in a worse one tomorrow.”

CHAPTER XXI—“DISPOSING” OF BESS

Leslie greeted the light of day with a sour taste in her mouth and a desire to snap at her best friend, were that unlucky person to appear on her immediate horizon. She had thought herself fairly well prepared in psychology for the morning recitation. Instead she could not remember definitely enough of what she had studied the afternoon before to make a lucid recitation. This did not tend to render her more amiable. She prided herself particularly on her progress in the study of psychology and was inwardly furious at her failure.

Exiting from Science Hall that afternoon, the first person her eyes came to rest upon was Elizabeth Walbert. She stood at one side of the broad stone flight of steps eagerly watching the main entrance to the building.

“Oh, there you are!” she hailed. “I have been waiting quite a while for you.”

“That’s too bad.” It was impossible to gauge Leslie’s exact humor from the reply. Her answers to impersonal remarks so often verged on insolence.

“So I thought,” pertly retorted the other girl. At the same time she furtively inspected Leslie.

“What is it now? You make me think of that old story of the ‘Flounder’ in ‘Grimms’ Fairy Tales.’ You are like the fisherman’s wife who was always asking favors of the flounder. We will assume that I am the flounder.”

“How do you know that I wish to ask a favor?” Elizabeth colored hotly at the insinuation. She put on an injured expression, her lips slightly pouted.

“I’m a mind reader,” was the laconic reply.

“Hm! Suppose I were to ask you to do something for me? Haven’t you said lots of times that I could rely on you?” persisted Elizabeth. “I don’t understand you, Leslie. You are so sweet to me at times and so horrid at others.”

“You’ll understand me better after today,” came the significant assurance. “Come on. We will walk across the campus to your house.”

“Why not yours?” Elizabeth demanded in patent disappointment. “I see enough of Alston Terrace. I’d rather go with you to Wayland Hall. Your nice room is a fine place for a confidential chat.”

“You won’t see the inside of it this P.M. I am not going into the house when we come to Alston Terrace. I have a severe headache and choose to stay out in the open air. It’s a fair day, and not cold enough to bar a walk on the campus.”

“Very well.” Elizabeth sighed and looked patient. “I hope we don’t meet any of the girls. I have a private matter to discuss with you.”

“Go ahead and discuss it,” imperturbably ordered Leslie.

“Why—you—perhaps, if you have a headache, I had better wait until another time,” deprecated the sophomore. It occurred to her that she ought to pretend solicitude. “I am so sorry,” she hastily condoled.

“Thank you. There is no ‘if’ about my headache. Get that straight. What? It won’t hinder me from listening to you. Let’s hear your remarks now and have them over with.”

“I have seen Dulcie,” began Elizabeth impressively, “and she has told me what happened the other night. Really, Leslie, I was shocked, simply shocked. Yet I couldn’t blame you in the least. The way Dulcie has talked about you on the campus is disgraceful. But I went over all that with you the day I first told you of how treacherous she had been.”

“Quite true. You did, indeed,” Leslie conceded with pleasant irony. “Now proceed. What next?”

“You are so funny, Leslie. You are so deliciously matter-of-fact.” Elizabeth was hoping the compliment would restore the difficult senior to a more equitable frame of mind.

“You may not always appreciate my matter-of-fact manner.” The ghost of a smile, cruel in its vagueness, touched Leslie’s lips.

“Oh, I am sure I shall. To go back to Dulcie, I hope you didn’t mention my name the other night. You promised you wouldn’t.”

“Is that what you have been so anxious to tell me?” Leslie asked the question with exaggerated weariness, eyes turned indifferently away from her companion.

“No; it is not.” Elizabeth shot an exasperated glance at her. “I merely mentioned it. Dulcie tried to make me take the blame for it the first time I met her after the meeting. I simply told her I had nothing to do with it whatever.”

Leslie sniffed audible contempt at this information. “Let me say this: Dulcie herself mentioned your name, or rather she screamed it out at the top of her voice the other night. The rest of us said nothing. I made the charges against Dulcie and mentioned no names.”

“I wish I had been there.” A wolfish light flashed into the wide, babyish blue eyes. “It must have been quite a party. Leslie,” Elizabeth decided that the time had come to speak for herself, “you said once that I couldn’t be a member of the Sans because there was no vacancy; that the club must be kept to the number of eighteen. There is a vacancy now. The club has only seventeen members. Why can’t I fill that vacancy and become the eighteenth member? I don’t mind because it will be only for the rest of this year. I shall count it an honor to have been a Sans even that long. I will certainly make a more loyal Sans than Dulcie was.”

Leslie drew a long breath. The wished-for moment had come. She was in fine fettle to deliver to the ambitious climber the “turn-down” she had earned.

“Why can’t you become a member of the Sans?” she asked, then drew back her head and indulged in soundless laughter. “Do you think it would make you very happy to join us?”

“You may better believe it,” Elizabeth made flippant reply. More seriously, she added: “You know how my heart has been set upon it from the very first.”

“Yes, I know. The fact of the matter is,” Leslie measured each word, “there is one great drawback to your joining.”

“If it is about money, I am sure my father has as much as the fathers of the other members,” cut in Elizabeth. “Our social position in New York is——”

“All that has nothing to do with the drawback I mentioned.” Leslie waved away Elizabeth’s attempt at defending her position. They were not more than half way across the campus, but Leslie was tired of keeping up the suspense of the moment. Her head ached violently. She was so utterly disgusted with the other girl she could have cheerfully pummeled her.

“Then I don’t quite understand——” began Elizabeth.

“You’re going to—at once. We dropped one girl from the Sans for being a liar and a gossip. What would be the use in filling her place with another liar and gossip. That’s the drawback. It applies strictly to you.”

Leslie stopped short in her walk and faced her companion, her heavy features a study in malignant contempt. Elizabeth’s eyes widened involuntarily this time. She could not believe the evidence of her own ears. Her moment of stupefaction gave Leslie the very opportunity to continue and finish her remarks before the other had time for angry defense.

“You would have been nothing socially on the campus if I hadn’t taken you up,” she said forcefully. “The other girls in my club, it is my club, didn’t like you. I had a good many quarrels with a number of them for trying to stand up for you, you worthless little schemer. If you had had one shred of principle or gratitude in your deceitful composition, you would have come to me at once with the first story against the club which Dulc told you. But you did not. You simply gossiped all she said to you to other students on the campus. Dulcie told you things about us that were ridiculous. You not only listened to them. You repeated them, making them worse.

“I had heard of your tactics before I sent for you to ask you about Dulc. I wanted to pump you and hear what you had to offer. I made it my business afterward to look up your record as a tale-bearer. Some little record! I know exactly to whom you have talked and what you have circulated concerning the Sans. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Such ingrates as you have no sense of shame. Now, I believe, you understand why the Sans don’t care to put you in Dulcie’s place. It would merely be a case of out of the frying pan into the fire. Of the two, you are worse than Dulc. She is a liar, but stupid. You are a liar and tricky.”

“Don’t you dare call me a story-teller again,” burst forth Elizabeth in a fury.

“I didn’t say story-teller. I said liar. I never mince matters. I’ve said that to you before.” Leslie stood smiling at the culprit, the soul of mockery.

“You won’t be at Hamilton long enough to insult me ever again, Leslie Cairns,” threatened Elizabeth, a world of vindictiveness in every word. “I don’t believe you, when you say that Dulcie hasn’t told the truth. I guess Dulcie knows enough that is true to make it very uncomfortable for you. I’ll help her do it, too. No one can speak to me as you have and expect I won’t get even.”

“Try it,” challenged Leslie. “Unless you have Dulcie to back you you can’t prove one single thing against our record at Hamilton. Dulcie doesn’t care to make trouble for herself. You couldn’t get her to go with you to headquarters. She has either to be graduated from college with a fair rating or fall into a bushel of trouble with her father. Let me give you and Dulc both a last piece of advice. You’ll tell her all about this, of course, only you will be careful not to mention wanting her place in the club. Keep a brake on those mill-clapper tongues of yours for the rest of the year.”

Without giving Elizabeth time for another outburst of wrath, Leslie wheeled and started away at double quick. The other girl forgot dignity entirely and pursued the senior, talking shrilly as she ran. She might as well have pursued a fleeing shadow. Leslie set her jaw and increased her pace. The enraged sophomore kept up the chase for a matter of yards, then stopped. Placing her hands to her mouth, trumpet fashion, she hurled after Leslie one pithy threat: “You’ll be sorry.”