CHAPTER IX

THE MISSING TWELVE

A moment of breathless silence followed Jewel Marie Ogden’s confident

statement. Three pairs of eyes fixed themselves resolutely upon the

complacent freshman. The three astonished post-graduates dared not so

much as glance at one another. Leila was the first of the trio to

command speech which should convey no hint of the mirthful state of her

feelings.

“You have made a mistake about Hamilton Hall,” she said in her direct

fashion. “It is not a campus boarding house. It contains only President

Matthews’ and the registrar’s offices, and a number of recitation

rooms.”

“Oh-h-h.” For the first time since her arrival on the station platform

the cocksure stranger exhibited signs of confusion. Chagrin swept a

flood of red to her round cheeks. Instant with it, she frowned, casting

a suspicious glance at Leila. “You are surely not trying to kid me, are

you. It seems to me that as members of the faculty, you should——”

“We are not trying to mislead you. Hamilton’s upper classmen are above

such things. Furthermore, we are not members of the faculty. We——”

“But you gave me the impression you were,” flashed back the black-eyed

girl half crossly. “Why couldn’t you have said in the first——”

“Pardon me. Permit me to finish what I had begun to say to you.” The

courteous dignity of Leila’s tone checked the other’s discourteous

speech midway in utterance. “We are post-graduates, and live at Wayland

Hall, one of the campus houses. We are always glad to be of service,

when we may, to entering freshmen. You have evidently made a mistake

regarding Hamilton Hall. Perhaps we can help you.”

“Yes; I’ve made a stupid mistake.” The freshman pettishly shrugged her

slim, green-clad shoulders. She made no effort at explaining her mistake

to the nonplussed trio of would-be helpers. After a tiny interval of

frowning hesitation she shot at them the brisk question: “Which of the

campus houses is the best; the highest price, I mean; the one with the

most class to it, you know?”

“So far as general excellence is concerned the campus houses rank the

same. Wayland Hall is a trifle higher-priced than the others,” Leila

answered levelly, fighting back her own rising desire to frown.

“Then I shall go there to live,” Jewel Marie Ogden announced with a

decisive wag of her head. “Since _you_ live there, you can tell me all

about it. I shall ask for a single, of course. I simply can’t endure the

thought of a roommate. I had a single at Warburton. Do you each have a

single?”

“Miss Mason and Miss Harper room together. I have a single.” Leslie’s

politely immobile features underwent a sudden purposeful tightening. She

had decided to “hand the annoying freshman one” straight from the

shoulder. “There are no vacancies at Wayland Hall,” she said. “I should

advise you to go directly to Hamilton Hall and explain your mistake to

the registrar. She may be able to secure you a room, or at least half a

room, in one of the other campus houses.”

“I shall go to Wayland Hall first, and meet your Miss Remson. I imagine

I can persuade her to make room for me there. I usually get whatever I

want, when I make up my mind to go after it. It still lacks a week

before the opening of college. A great many things may have happened by

then.” Miss Ogden’s self-confidence had evidently returned with a rush.

“We are all at your service to run you up to the Hall.” This time it was

Leslie who fought back a frown. Never possessed of a goodly stock of

patience, she was already “fed up” with Jewel Marie.

“You may take me to the campus in your car, if you will be so kind,” was

a gracious concession on the part of the freshie which Leslie accepted

without enthusiasm.

“Pleased to be of service to you,” she returned briefly.

“Suppose we hurry along, then,” Vera suggested good-naturedly, “then we

won’t be late to dinner. Too bad to keep Miss Remson waiting while there

are so few of us in the house.”

“Your friends are awfully nice, but I choose to ride with you because I

took a fancy to you,” were the freshman’s first words as Leslie

presently started her roadster on the short run to the campus.

“You’d hardly say that if you knew us better,” Leslie replied a trifle

coolly. “Miss Harper is considered the cleverest student who ever

enrolled at Hamilton, and Miss Mason is tremendously popular.”

“Really? How nice. I’m sure I appreciate their interest in me.” The

little girl’s glib reply smacked of insincerity. “Still, it was _you_

who interested me most. You have an air about you. You’re so awfully

swagger. And your dress—pardon me for mentioning it—it looks imported.

Do you send to Paris for your clothes? I suppose you have been across

often. You have _so much_ individuality. I was in Paris all summer. I

brought back acres of lovely clothes, too. Did I guess right? Have you

been abroad often?” she inquired eagerly.

“Several times. Not as often as Miss Harper has been, though.” Leslie

found secret satisfaction in her answer. “She comes from Ireland. Her

father’s estate there is one of the largest in the country.”

“Ireland isn’t much of a country, though,” was the freshman’s

unimpressed opinion. “She looks quite American.”

“Yes?” Leslie busied herself with her driving, vouchsafing no other

reply. She was thinking that she would be better pleased to drop Miss

Ogden at the Hall than she had been to meet her. She was not regretting

the fact that there were no vacancies at Wayland Hall.

“Suppose I should be unable to secure a room at Wayland Hall.” Jewell

Marie had begun on a new tack. “In such case, I shouldn’t mind rooming

with you, if you would be willing to take me as a roommate.”

“What?” Sheer surprise brought Leslie’s pet ejaculation to her lips. She

shot the car forward with a sudden jolt by way of relieving her

feelings.

“Have you a large room? Is it second, or third floor; front or back?”

quizzed the other girl.

“I—I—It would be impossible.” Leslie’s voice held finality. “I prefer to

room alone. In the event that I should take a roommate, she would be a

certain particular friend of mine, a senior, who also lives at the Hall.

She is on her way to the U. S. now from Paris. Half of her room became

vacant when her roommate left college last June, but I believe she and

another senior have made arrangements to room together this year.”

“I’m sorry you feel like that about it. At Warburton the girls there

were crazy to room with me, but I felt then just about the way you seem

to feel in regard to taking a roommate. Oh, never mind. I daresay I

shall have no trouble getting into Wayland Hall,” was the lofty, half

piqued assertion. “Of course, I may not like the Hall. It will depend

upon whether it appeals to me or not.”

“The part of the country we are now passing through is called Hamilton

Estates.” Leslie was glad of an opportunity to change the subject. “We

are coming to Hamilton Arms now. It was the home of Brooke Hamilton. He

founded Hamilton College. His great-niece, Miss Susanna Hamilton, still

lives at the Arms.”

“Is that so? I recall seeing something about Brooke Hamilton having

founded the college in the bulletin I sent for. I didn’t bother myself

about reading it. That sort of thing bores me dreadfully.”

“Then you are likely to be bored frequently as a freshman at Hamilton.”

Leslie spoke with faint satire. “You will hear a great deal about Brooke

Hamilton on the campus, and see the result of his steadfast work and

genius at every turn.”

“I shall let it go in one ear and out the other,” Miss Ogden waved a

dismissing hand. “I’m not interested in the historical side of Hamilton

College. It’s the social side that appeals to me. I’ve heard there were

more millionaires’ daughters enrolled at Hamilton than at any other

college for girls in the United States. Is that true?” The bright black

eyes of the freshman fastened themselves eagerly upon Leslie.

“Really, I couldn’t say. I have never stopped to think about any such

thing,” Leslie answered rather brusquely.

“But you must know most of the students at Hamilton,” came insistently

from the other girl.

“I know the majority of the students at Wayland Hall, but, with the

exception of a few friends, such as Miss Harper and Miss Mason, I know

little of their personal affairs, or financial circumstances. The social

side of Hamilton is delightful, at the same time, it is decidedly

democratic. Cleverness, and initiative, count for more at Hamilton than

does money.”

“That sounds awfully, well—dreadfully prissy, and pokey. ‘True worth

will win,’ and ‘Every day we are growing better, and better,’ and all

that sort of twaddle. One hears it generally about most colleges,

though.” Miss Ogden’s shoulder-shrug was eloquent of her contempt of

such a state of affairs as Leslie had briefly outlined to her. “I can

tell in a few days whether, or not, I’m going to like Hamilton. If it

doesn’t appeal to me I shall pick another college.”

Sight of the campus momentarily turned the self-centered strange

attention from her own particular aims and ambitions. “It’s a bully

campus,” she exclaimed with some warmth. “It has a lot of class.” As the

roadster sped on toward the entrance gates she continued to voice

approval of the majestic stretch of green, stately Hamilton Hall, and

its accompanying handsome campus houses.

Neither Leila’s nor Vera’s car showed on the drive leading up to Wayland

Hall. Leslie guessed that they had driven to the garage, since they had

preceded her on the return from the station. It therefore became her

duty to escort Miss Ogden to the Hall, and there introduce her to Miss

Remson. Her responsibility as one of the welcoming committee of the

afternoon would then cease, she was thankfully reflecting, as she

accompanied the diminutive freshman up the steps.

“Well, Leslie,” greeted the brisk little manager as Leslie entered Miss

Remson’s office with her afternoon “catch,” “you are back from the

station in good season. I delayed serving dinner on account of the

arriving freshmen.” She rose from her desk chair and stepped forward,

smiling at the new arrival in her kindly fashion.

“They never arrived, Miss Remson,” Leslie said. “This is Miss Ogden,

also a freshman. She came in on the five-fifty, and we promptly captured

her. The freshie twelve we went down there to meet must either have

missed the train, or else changed their plans. At any rate, they failed

to appear. Miss Ogden would like to talk with you about securing a room

at the Hall. You will pardon me, Miss Ogden, if I leave you now. I will

see you again at dinner, or else, afterward.” Leslie bowed to the

freshman and made a quick escape from the office.

She went out on the veranda, there to await the coming of Leila and Vera

from the garage. Her own car she had decided to leave parked on the

drive in case she wished to go for an after-dinner spin. She dropped

into one of the big porch chairs with an audible sigh of relief,

mentally characterizing Jewel Marie Ogden as a “Razzberry.”

“Where is she? What have you done with her?” Vera Mason’s voice, low,

and suspiciously near laughter, suddenly interrupted the mental analysis

of the pert little freshie which Leslie was endeavoring to make.

“What?” she raised a surprised head from the hand that cupped her chin.

“Where did you blow from? I never even heard you.”

“Oh, we came cross-lots, and then around the corner of the house. Where

is she, Leslie?” Vera repeated, eyes roving toward the opened, screened

door.

“In there, having a go with Miss Remson.” Leslie jerked her head toward

the manager’s office, the beginning of her slow smile on her lips. “I

introduced her to Miss Remson, then fled.”

“I should say so.” Vera’s small hands spread themselves in a gesture of

comic hopelessness. “She’s a positive curiosity. I never before met

another girl quite like her. What a find she would have been for a crowd

of mischievous sophs. She surely would have read of herself afterward in

the grind book. I didn’t dare look at either of you girls while she was

talking to us.” Vera dropped, laughing, into a convenient rocker.

“She was lucky to have been met by three staid, old persons like us,”

was Leila’s humorous opinion. “I am still full of pride and vainglory at

having been taken for one of the faculty. And Miss Remson has yet to

hear that she was guessed to be the registrar. But for the life of me, I

cannot understand why Jewel Marie, and grant me, that is some name,

should have made such a ridiculous mistake about Hamilton Hall. I do not

understand the girl at all, and I have often thought myself an Irish

lady of some understanding.”

“What I can’t understand is this. As a graduate of prep school she

should be thoroughly familiar with college conditions. Hamilton Hall is

sufficiently described in the Hamilton bulletin so as to differentiate

it from the other campus houses. I simply couldn’t feel sympathetic with

her when she admitted she had made a stupid mistake.” Vera made honest

confession. “She had been so—so—well disagreeably inquisitive and

self-centered. It’s not charitable to discuss her, even to you two, who

saw her as I saw her, but——” Vera paused with a helpless little shrug.

“Her present manners will not carry her far at Hamilton, provided she

should enroll here. I have my doubts whether she knows her own mind

about it, and I have further doubts that she will be able to secure even

half a room on the campus. It is a foregone conclusion that she will

scorn the dormitory,” Leila predicted. “What was your opinion of her,

Leslie?”

“A human interrogation point,” Leslie said laconically, then laughed.

“Her college ideals seem to be about on a par with those of the Sans.

Somehow, I felt sorry for her. If she stays at Hamilton she will gather

some violent jolts. She’s far from stupid, but she’s a young vandal; her

own worst enemy.” Leslie had decided against repeating, even to Leila

and Vera, the conversation which she had held with the freshman on the

way to the campus. It had been in her opinion, too trivial for

repetition. She had already summed up Miss Ogden in her own mind as a

social climber, ill-bred, and altogether too self-assertive. She had

known plenty of such girls in the old days, when she, also, had been a

law unto herself. “Jewel Marie has come to the right place to

learn—about herself,” Leslie paused briefly, then went on. “She’s

awfully sure she knows herself now, but she’s going to find out

differently, if she sticks here at Hamilton.”

“What happened to the twelve freshies, I wonder?” Leila commented

irrelevantly.

“Oh, they’ll probably bob up tomorrow. Let’s go to dinner. I’m hungry,

in spite of our bitter disappointment,” Vera declared facetiously.

“Yes, we’d best beat it for the dining room. Miss Remson kept the dinner

back on their account. It must be on now.” Leslie rose from the porch

rocker. Her gaze straying idly toward Hamilton pike she gave vent to a

quick exclamation. “Look,” she cried, pointing toward the pike. “Some

little gas party stirring.”

A long line of automobiles had appeared on the pike, coming from the

direction of Hamilton Estates, moving in a slow procession past the

stone wall of the campus. While Hamilton Pike was a much traveled road

for motorists, the line of cars moving along in slow succession was an

unusual sight.

A united exclamation ascended from the three post-graduates as the smart

black roadster, leading the van, turned in at the campus gateway.

“Now what do you suppose that procession means?” Vera had clasped her

small hands together in astonishment.

“Search me. The driver of the head car doesn’t seem to know quite where

she’s bound for.” Leslie had focussed her gaze upon the girl driver of

the first car in the line. The latter had brought her roadster to a slow

stop on the drive a few yards from the gateway, as she turned to

address, over one shoulder, the solitary occupant in the tonneau of the

machine. The high treble of her tones was carried to the three watchers

on the veranda, though they could not understand what she was saying.

A moment’s further pause, then the roadster moved forward again,

arriving on the main drive at the point where it diverged into its

several approaches to the campus houses. The driver of the roadster

headed into the Wayland Hall drive, slowing down to a quick stop at the

edge of the broad graveled space in front of the Hall.

“I’ve guessed the answer,” Leslie said in an excited undertone. “I’ve

counted the cars in that line. There are twelve buzz-buggies. The

freshies have arrived, the missing twelve are on the job at last.”

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Marjorie Dean Macy's Hamilton Colony · 第 9 / 23 章