Marjorie Dean, College Sophomore Part 5

"Who told the Sans that you weren't going to allow them to come back to the Hall?" was Marjorie's pertinent question. "I can answer for every one of us in saying that we never repeated a word outside of our own intimate circle."

"That is a question I have pondered more than once during the summer,"

Miss Remson responded with alacrity. "I did not suspect one of you for an instant. I do not see how anyone could have overheard the remarks I made on the subject, as I made them in this office with the door always closed. President Matthews is, of course, above suspicion. His secretary would not dare repeat his official business, even to an intimate friend.

I mailed my letter to the president. It went through the postoffice.

This precludes the possibility of it having been tampered with."

"Perhaps the Sans guessed that you would refuse them admittance to the Hall this year because you called the meeting in the living room," was Muriel's plausible surmise. "You had had a good deal of trouble with them and they knew they were in the wrong; that you disapproved of them.

They may have scented disaster and taken the bull by the horns. They calculated, perhaps, that you might appeal to President Matthews and thought they would secure themselves by reporting us and accusing you of favoritism."

"That would be typical of the Sans," agreed Leila energetically. "Not so much Leslie Cairns. She bribes and bullies her way to whatever she wants. Joan Myers wrote the letter. She is considered very clever among her crowd. She may have made the plan. Dulcie Vale is too stupid and Nat Weyman is wrapped up in herself."

"A clever letter, contemptible though it is," p.r.o.nounced Veronica. "The writer has put a certain amount of force in it which pa.s.ses for sincerity."

"It reads as though she had been informed that Miss Remson was going to turn the Sans down and was honestly sore over it." Jerry added her speculation to Ronny's.

"It is too bad!" exclaimed Helen Trent, indignantly. "I mean for you, Miss Remson. You can soon find out for yourself whether they simply guessed you were down on them or really had information. When the Sans come back to the Hall, if they are snippy and insolent from the start, that will mean, I think, that they had warning of it. If they are rather subdued and fairly civil, for them, then they only made a daring bluff and are not sure, up to date, whether their suspicion was correct."

"Great head!" laughingly complimented Jerry. "There is nothing the mater with Helen's reasoning powers."

Miss Remson nodded slowly as she considered Helen's words. "That is very likely the way it will be," she said. "The matter will have to remain closed, because President Matthews wishes it to be so. I shall not adopt his suggestion of a personal talk with these girls." A glint of belligerence appeared in her eyes. "I have been here at the Hall many years and seen many young women come and go. I am not a bad judge of girl character and motive. It will not take me long to fathom these girls' deceit in this affair, if the letter Miss Myers wrote was based on supposition. If, in some unprecedented manner, they really received information, then they must have learned the outcome of the affair from the same source. All I can do is to remain mute on the subject. They will, undoubtedly, ridicule me behind my back. If they attempt to belittle me to my face, I shall resign my position here." The humiliated little manager's lips compressed into a tight line.

"I think the whole business is shameful; simply shameful!" burst forth Vera, her blue eyes flas.h.i.+ng. "Imagine President Matthews taking such an extremely unjust stand!"

"It is too bad you cannot go to him and have the matter out with him.

No; I understand that you wouldn't, under the circ.u.mstances," Jerry added quickly, as Miss Remson made a hasty gesture of dissent. "I wouldn't either, if I were you."

"I believe there is more to this than appears on the surface," Marjorie gave steady opinion. "We hardly know President Matthews, as we were merely fres.h.i.+es last year. Still he seems to be such a fine man. A man in his position ought to be above anything even touching on injustice."

"There you are! 'Seems to be,' and 'ought to be,'" repeated Leila cynically. "May I ask you, Miss Remson, do you know the signature to the president's letter to you to be by his own hand? I would not hesitate to set a trumped-up letter down to the Sans' mischief-making bureau."

"Yes; it is President Matthews' signature; unmistakably his," answered Miss Remson. "I am satisfied Doctor Matthews wrote the letter. It is written much as he would write if he were thoroughly annoyed. Neither Miss Myers nor her friends could write it. You spoke of there being more to this than appears on the surface, Miss Dean. Pardon me for disagreeing. I hardly think so."

Marjorie never forgot the hurt look that crept into the manager's usually cheerful face as she bravely disagreed. It was as though she had caught a glimpse of the plucky little woman's grieving soul. She realized that Miss Remson had found it hard to give even them her confidence. She guessed also that the manager would be grateful if left to herself.

"I know what it means to feel dreadfully hurt over something untrue that has been said of one, Miss Remson," she consoled in her sincere, gracious fas.h.i.+on. "That's the way it was with me last March. Thanks to my friends, the clouds blew away and the sun came out again. We are your true friends, and we would like to do as much for you as we know you have done for me, and would do for any of us who needed your support. We solemnly promise," she went on, turning to her chums for corroboration, "to regard your confidence as binding. Not one of us will forget the hurt that has been dealt you. We shall do our best to make it easier for you at the Hall by keeping clear of the Sans."

"Miss Remson, I feel positive that Doctor Matthews will realize, later, what a serious mistake he has made. Sometimes the very finest men make just such blunders because they are irritated by something else entirely." Katherine spoke with deep conviction. "I acted as secretary one summer to a naturalist who was of that type."

"There is one thing I intend to do." Lucy Warner spoke for the first time since entering the office. She had listened with the gravity and attention of a judge to all that had been said. "I shall make it a point to see what President Matthews' secretary looks like. A secretary has a good deal of opportunity to make trouble, if she chooses to make it. She knows so much of her employer's private affairs. I've been a secretary long enough to tell you that. She might have quietly told the Sans of Miss Remson's letter to the president, asking for an interview."

"But, my dear child, I did not mention the object of my interview in my note to President Matthews," declared the manager. "The secretary would have nothing to tell these girls of any moment. She would naturally attach no importance to such a letter."

"That is true." Lucy looked abashed for an instant. Her old shyness seemed about to settle down on her. She cast it off and sat up very straight, her green eyes gleaming with her initial purpose. "I believe I will look her up, at any rate. She might be a friend of the Sans."

"Hardly," differed Muriel. "The Sans don't make a friend of a girl under the million mark, Lucy."

"Unless it happens to suit their purpose," flatly contradicted Lucy, with no intent to be rude. "They are the very persons who would pretend friends.h.i.+p with a poor girl if they thought she would be useful to them.

There are girls who would feel highly flattered to be taken up by them.

I can't pa.s.s opinion upon this secretary until I have seen her. Perhaps not until I have seen her a number of times."

"Luciferous Warniferous, the world's great private investigator."

Despite the seriousness of the occasion, Muriel could not refrain from venturing this pleasantry.

"You needn't make fun of me." Lucy laughed with the others. "It won't do any harm, at least, to view her from afar."

"I thank you all for your interest in me and for your promise." Miss Remson surveyed the group of youthful sympathizers through a slight mist. "Don't keep this in mind, girls," she counseled. "It is better forgotten. I shall try to get along with this disagreeable flock of students with the least possible friction. If they take advantage of this victory, which they have gained unfairly, and attempt to override my authority at the Hall, I shall resign at once."

CHAPTER VI.

THE GENUS "FRESHMAN."

Leaving the manager's office, soon afterward, the nine girls would have liked nothing better than to repair to one of their rooms and discuss the subject of Miss Remson's grievances at length. All had the liveliest sympathy for the kindly official and longed to do something to prove it.

Unfortunately, nearly all of them had work to do or engagements to keep.

The Sanford contingent had their trunks to unpack as soon as they should arrive. They hoped that would be very soon. Katherine had made an engagement with Lillian Wenderblatt to go for a long walk. Leila and Vera were going to drive to the town of Hamilton to buy the where-withal for a spread to be given that evening in honor of Nella and Selma, who were expected on the five o'clock train. Helen being the only one with time on her hands, Leila advised her to join them on their quest for the most toothsome "eats."

Contrary to Jerry's wet-blanket and extravagant prediction that the trunks would probably be delivered "around midnight," they arrived shortly before eleven o'clock, and an industrious season of unpacking set in. Determined to finish arranging their effects before four o'clock, they labored at the task with commendable energy and speed, stopping only for luncheon, which was eaten in some haste.

"We certainly have hustled," Jerry congratulated, as she lifted the last remaining articles from the bottom of one of her two trunks and found place for them in her chiffonier. "I'm glad the job is done. We shall have lots of time to take it easy. Here it is, only Wednesday. College doesn't open officially until next Tuesday. We have nearly a week to ourselves."

"We'll begin today to look after the fres.h.i.+es," planned Marjorie. "Then we must meet one train a day, if not two, until we are not needed any longer. I shall stick rigidly to that work on account of the welcome we were cheated of last September."

"What are you going to wear to the train this afternoon?" Jerry inquired, critically inspecting two or three frocks she had laid out on her couch bed. She was uncertain which one to wear.

"That one." Marjorie nodded toward a chair over which hung a one-piece frock of fine white linen. "I think white looks nicest when one is going to the station. I love to wear my white dresses as late in the fall as I can."

"Then I'll wear white, too." Jerry immediately selected a pretty lingerie gown and sighed relief to have that matter off her mind. "I am going the rounds and tell the gang to wear white, by order of the Board of Suitable Suits for Auspicious Occasions. Back in a minute."

Glancing at the clock, which showed ten minutes past four, Marjorie hurriedly slipped out of the pink gingham dress she had been wearing and took the white linen frock from the chair. She had been making leisurely preparations for the trip to the station while Jerry finished unpacking.

"I can plainly see my finish." Jerry presently entered the room with a bounce, seized a towel from the washstand and bounced out again. She returned as breezily within a few minutes and continued her toilet at the same rate of speed. Leila had said: "Not one minute later than four-thirty," and Jerry did not propose to be left behind.

"Are the rest of the crowd going to wear white?" Marjorie asked, giving her wealth of curly hair a final touch before the mirror.

"Yes; but it's just a happen-so. Most of them were dressed for the auspicious occasion when I arrived on the scene. Their suits were suitable, so I beat it back here in a hurry. Please tie my sash for me, Marjorie, while I labor some more with my aggravating hair. I swear I will have it cropped like Robin Page's."

"She'll have hers done up when she comes back," commented Marjorie, deftly complying with Jerry's request. "It was almost long enough to do up last June and she was proud of it."

"I hope Robin comes in on the five o'clock train. I'd like to see her.

Next to Helen, I like her best of the Hamiltonites."

The entrance of Ronny, also in white linen, with the information that Muriel and Lucy had gone on down stairs to the veranda, cut short Jerry's remarks. The three girls reached the veranda at precisely four-thirty, to find Leila's and Vera's cars on the drive in readiness to start.

Through the glory of late afternoon sunlight the two cars, each with its winsome freight of white-gowned girls, sped down the smooth pike past beautiful Hamilton Estates and on toward the station. Happy in the fact that she was now so perfectly at home at Hamilton, Marjorie smiled as she compared last year with the present. Yes; it was good to be a soph.o.m.ore. Her new estate stretched invitingly before her. It was all so very different from the previous September. The splendor of the sunlit sky and the warm fragrance of the light breeze seemed indicative of pleasant days to come. Because she had missed a welcome on her arrival at Hamilton, she was ready to welcome doubly some other freshman stranger within Hamilton's gates.

"Train 16, late, 40 minutes," was the dampening information which stared them in the face from the station bulletin board.