LESLIE’S QUEER PROBLEM
“And is it yourself, and no other? Is it not time you put in an
appearance at the Hall with many apologies for having forgotten us?”
Leila Harper ushered Marjorie into her room, her smiling lips in decided
apposition to her severe tone.
“It is myself, and, may I ask, who else might it be?” Marjorie retorted
as she and Leila enthusiastically wrung hands.
“Ask me nothing. I am that glad to see you, I have no flip answer at my
tongue’s end. We have all been busy, it would seem. I have been at the
Playhouse, with only the typewriter for company, pounding out the parts
for my opening play. Midget was invited to become co-editor with Jane
Everest on the ‘Campus Echo.’ Leslie is wrestling with a queer problem
of her own. You will hear more about it this evening. And Hamilton Arms
has held you a willing captive. We should have come to see you in the
evening, except that we have had callers here every night for a week.
The Bertramites dinner at Baretti’s ended my social rush for a while. I
shall begin to lead the life of a hermit for the next three weeks.”
“You can’t. Miss Susanna had ordered yours and Vera’s presence at the
Arms at seven o’clock dinner tomorrow night. You are to bring Kathie,
Lucy, Lillian and Doris with you. You are to tear them away from any
engagements they may have made. Goldendede has something important to
tell the Travelers. Robin and Phil are coming, too. I’ve already ’phoned
them.”
“Now what has happened?” Leila cocked her head inquisitively to one
side. “This much I can guess. Leslie knows all about it. When I asked
her for news of the Arms last night, knowing that she had lunched there
yesterday, she had little to say except that the library looked fine,
and Miss Susanna was well. I saw mystery in the tail of her eye. But I
am so polite. I said nothing to her about it.” Leila gave Marjorie a
drolly hopeful glance.
“I tell you a tiny little bit, Leila Greatheart,” Marjorie conceded
indulgently. “Something happened yesterday at the Arms that was in the
nature of an astonishing surprise. Leslie was there when it happened.
Goldendede wishes the girls she has invited to dinner to hear about it.
She intends to tell them.”
Marjorie felt the color rising in her cheeks. Her own surprise at the
finding of Brooke Hamilton’s notebook had been secondary to that of Miss
Hamilton’s avowed choice of “the one.” To cover her sudden feeling of
confusion she asked hastily, “Where is Vera?”
“Now you are asking me something. Midget is at the freshie frolic. It’s
tonight, you know, and seems a very clannish affair. There were more
than enough sophs to go round. No juniors or seniors were invited this
year to help on escort duty. Midget was asked to be one of the three
judges of the beauty contest. She, Doris and Calista Wilmot are the
fateful trio. The contest was to be held at nine-thirty, so Midget will
be here before you go.”
“There’s a freshie at the dormitory who ought to win it,” Marjorie
declared with enthusiasm. “I don’t know her name, but I do know she is a
beauty. I happened to be over at the dorm the day she arrived. She
actually took my breath. She has violet blue eyes and curly black auburn
hair, and the _sweetest_ face, with a skin like a roseleaf.”
“I’ve met her. Her name is Carol Burke. The dorms are hoping she’ll win
the contest. They say, though, that she will be awfully upset, if she
should win it; that she’s very shy, and retiring, with but little idea
of her own good looks. That is the way you were, Beauty, when I dragged
you into the first contest.” Leila flashed Marjorie one of her
inimitable smiles.
“I remember I felt awfully cross with you because of it,” Marjorie
reminded. “Now, in my settled old age, I can afford to smile over it.”
“But if you were to walk into the gym tonight in your violet dress you
would win it again,” Leila predicted.
“My violet dress!” Marjorie hurried away from the subject of the
contest. “It seems strange, Leila, but it looks as lovely as ever; not a
bit old style. Captain shortened it and took out the sleeves, and now
it’s a dream. How are the Bertramites? I must have them over at the Rest
soon to dinner.”
“They are—” Two deliberate, successive knocks on the door sent Leila
scurrying to open it for Leslie, who had dropped Marjorie at the Hall
and had then gone on to the garage with her roadster.
“Come on into my room for a while,” Leslie invited. “Marjorie hasn’t
seen Fifteen since it was done over. Jewel Marie is gaily fox-trotting
at the frolic, thank goodness, and we can discuss the affairs of the
universe in peace. Leave a scrawl on the table for Vera when she comes
in, Leila. Have you seen Miss Remson yet?” she turned to Marjorie.
“Yes; only for a moment. She had to go to town on unexpected business.
I’ll run over tomorrow to see her. Goldendede wants her to be at the
dinner tomorrow night.”
“’Tis done. ‘_Midget, Attention!_ Come to Fifteen. No knocking
necessary,’” Leila read out, then gave the penned message a vigorous
drying fluttering before running it through with a long, black-headed
pin, and sticking the pin into the middle of the study table.
Leslie closed the door of Fifteen behind her comrades to the tune of
admiring exclamation from Marjorie.
“Can this celostrous cozy corner be old Fifteen?” Marjorie’s face glowed
appreciation of Leslie’s artistry.
“It can be. It is.” Leslie showed her pleasure of Marjorie’s lively
approval of her color scheme and arrangement. “I liked it a little
better before I changed things around in order to make room for Miss
Ogden,” she said.
“I am still wondering at your cleverness, and also at how it came about
that you gathered in the homeless Miss Ogden,” Leila said a trifle
inquisitively. “Now tell me nothing.” She put up her hand, laughing as
though to ward off an unsolicited confidence. “I am not as inquisitive
as I seem.”
“I’m still wondering myself how I happened to drag in that kid,” Leslie
confessed, smiling. “She was no end disappointed because she couldn’t
find a campus room. I’m only going to be here till Christmas. It seemed
so selfish in me to bar the midget out. I’ve a sort of plan going in my
head about Fifteen—something I’d like to do with it when I leave here to
go to a real home.”
“What, Leslie?” Marjorie was all interest.
“I’m going to will my half of Fifteen to the first girl on the dormitory
waiting list. If she doesn’t want it, then the next on the list will do.
It will be a free proposition, same as the dormitory, but with all the
comfy advantages that being on the campus means.”
“Your plan is just like you, Leslie. It’s lovely,” Marjorie accorded
with quiet sincerity.
“You are a noble Cairns, and I think well of you,” Leila spoke lightly,
but Leslie understood the undercurrent of earnestness in the speech. The
Irish girl was wondering, however, what the effect of the carrying out
of Leslie’s plan would be upon Miss Ogden. She suspected her of being a
social climber which would not accord at all with Leslie’s scheme of
things.
As though reading her mind, Leslie remarked speculatively, “I am going
to talk to Miss Ogden about Fifteen. I haven’t yet explained it to her.
I hardly believe she will make any objection to it when I finally tell
her. That will be shortly before I leave here for Carden Hedge.”
Watching Leslie’s face Marjorie glimpsed the shadow of the old
dominating leader who had ruled the frivolous San Soucians by sheer
determined will.
“Do you like Miss Ogden, Leslie?” sprang impulsively from her lips.
Immediately she became vexed with herself for having unthinkingly asked
so personal a question. “I shouldn’t have asked you that,” she
apologized quickly.
“Glad you did. It’s given me an opening to speak my mind to you and
Leila about her, and also this crowd of freshies from New York who are
at the Hall. You ask me if I like Miss Ogden. Yes, and no. At heart
she’s a democrat. Outwardly, she’s a goose, with snobbish aspirations.
She’ll need more than one jolt to wake her up to herself, and she’s in a
fair way soon to gather in the first one. The New York freshies are
snobs, Marjorie; same type as the Sans. Leila, Vera and I discovered as
much the day we first met them. The Ogden kid is wild about them; has a
crush on Miss Norris, the banner snob of the gang. Experience is a great
teacher! I understand this bunch of high hats. She doesn’t. I can’t very
well warn her against them. They’re her classmates. She would probably
resent such a warning, as a meddlesome interference on my part. Still, I
hate to see her hurt without having first done what I can to prevent
calamity. Leila, Vera and I have been keeping a starboard eye upon her,
trying diplomatically to steer her clear of snags. We decided we’d best
consult you about her, Marvelous Manager.” Leslie’s eyes rested
expectantly upon Marjorie.
“Why underrate your own superior capabilities?” Marjorie glanced from
Leila to Leslie with twinkling eyes.
“We are but poor playhouse managers, and, at that, far from marvelous.
It is one thing to manage mummers, in a make-believe drama. They are
pleased to be managed. But to attempt to manage freshies, in a real
drama, who have no taste for being managed, is quite another.” Leslie
made a deprecatory gesture. “These New York freshies, Beauty, are an
innovation at Hamilton. They are a gay, noisy set in their rooms, going
back and forth to them through their end of the hall with plenty of
laughter and commotion. To the other students at the Hall they show
small friendliness. Miss Ogden loses no opportunity to court favor with
them. We know they make sport of her behind her back, for we have heard
them sneer about her. They patronize her to her face. Why they do not
snub her outright, as they have two or three of the sophs at the Hall,
we wondered, until yesterday. Then we heard that at the freshie class
meeting she nominated Miss Norris, their leader, for president. Now we
shall see what we shall see,” Leila said significantly.
“Was Miss Norris elected president?” Marjorie inquired interestedly.
“Yes; her crowd had been busily electioneering for her. She won over
Miss Foster of Acasia House by only two votes. Her roommate, Miss
Taylor, gave a dinner for her last night at Baretti’s.”
“Was Miss Ogden invited?” Marjorie’s interest had deepened.
“Yes! I was glad to hear from Leslie that she was.”
“She had Miss Taylor to thank for it,” Leslie interposed. “If any other
girl in that crowd had given it, I’ll say Jewel Marie wouldn’t have had
a look in. This Miss Taylor is rather different from the others. She’s
stout and sleepy-looking. She appears stodgy until one happens to see
her laugh. When she laughs, and that’s not often, her whole face
changes. One sees humor written on every feature. She’d make a wonderful
Touchstone in ‘As You Like It.’”
“Yes, and Miss Norris would make a fine Henry the Fifth. I’m thinking of
putting it on at the Playhouse this winter. Still, she is one I am not
anxious to manage. I am not fond of wrangling,” Leila made a wry face,
“and I have heard her differ, far from politely, with the girls of her
own set.”
“It’s this way, Marjorie,” Leslie broke in seriously, “Miss Norris at
first almost ignored Miss Ogden. All of a sudden, she became quite
gracious to her; she lunched Miss Ogden at the Colonial and invited her
into the sacred precincts of her room a couple of times. Jewel Marie
nearly expired with joy. She would have followed her crush about like a
faithful terrier, if I hadn’t kept her busy trotting around with me.
Leila and I both predicted that the bubble would burst soon after
election. Since then Miss Ogden has twice invited Miss Norris to dinner
at Baretti’s. On both occasions she has disappointed the kid at the last
minute with flimsy excuses. She’s still fatuously blind, and the
eye-opening process is going to be some shock to her. I’m tempted to let
her hear me out, straight from the shoulder, then let her rave. By the
time she finds herself dropped by her crush she’ll be able to meet the
terrible blow without making herself ridiculous.” There was a suspicion
of good-humored scorn in Leslie’s voice. “She isn’t remarkably tactful.
She’s more likely to go up in the air over the snub, just because of her
hurt feelings.”
“I believe I’d try the straight-from-the-shoulder tactics, Leslie,” was
Marjorie’s thoughtful advice. “Miss Ogden may be angry with you, at
first, but she will understand afterward that you were trying to help
her. It will prepare her in a measure for what you believe is going to
happen, even though she should resent your warning at the time it is
given.”
“I’ll have a talk with her in the morning,” Leslie nodded with decision.
“She was planning on having a good time tonight. I’m not going to spoil
pleasant memories of it by croaking. Miss Felton took her to the
frolic.”
“Oh, I remember _her_. She is the pretty, brown-haired girl who was the
first to protest against the petition Miss Ferguson started on that
memorable night last spring here at the Hall,” Marjorie said with a
reminiscent smile.
“She’s a mighty nice girl,” Leslie returned, “and I wish, for her own
sake, that this misguided roommate of mine had a crush on Miss Felton.
Muriel’s show was a greater success than she thought it might be. The
sophs at the Hall, who joined the Lotus Club as freshies, are a
congenial crowd this year, with the exception of Miss Ferguson. She has
attached herself to the New York crowd, and is very pally with Miss
Norris. I daresay the N. Y.’s know my past campus history better than I
do,” Leslie declared with grim satire. “They try to ignore my existence
whenever they can, for which I thank them.”
“Wait until my theatre article appears next week in the ‘Echo.’ Then you
will suddenly see a great change among them. What girl does not love the
idea of acting? Leila and I will then be ranked as desirable
acquaintances rather than antiquated P. G.’s,” Leslie humorously
prophesied.
Mention of the Playhouse turned the conversation from Leslie’s
“misguided” roommate into a more pleasing channel. Leila had decided to
open the theatre with an elaborate performance of “The Merchant of
Venice.” She proposed next to follow the Shakespearean drama with a
revue, then, later, to present her new Irish play, “The Leprachaun.”
After the holidays she hoped to put on “Henry the Fifth,” provided she
could secure a cast to suit her critical fancy.
“It will be no trick to find a cast for the Merchant of Venice,” she
told her interested companions. “Doris will add to her campus fame as
Portia, Gussie will make an ideal Antonio, and Miss Duncan will cover
herself with glory in playing Shylock. On Bassonio, I have not yet
decided. I may ask Miss Taylor, the stout freshman, to play the part.
She is tall enough, and broad enough of shoulder, to play a man’s part
well.” Leila glanced questioningly from one to the other of her chums.
“She interests me, and, incidentally, it may lead to a better state of
affairs here at the Hall. I suspect her of having some influence upon
her crowd. They babble like brooks when together, but she, I have
noticed, says little, though her oddly pale blue eyes miss nothing.”
“Don’t ever talk to me again about marvelous managing,” Marjorie
exclaimed. “_You_ are the real Marvelous Manager. You’ve picked up a
trail to a better state of affairs here, already. Go ahead; ask Miss
Taylor to—”
The unexpected violent opening of the door cut off Marjorie’s unfinished
sentence. Three pairs of eyes suddenly directed themselves at the
tempestuous entrant. A very small girl in a peachblow-hued evening frock
had fairly bounced into the room, banging the door behind her.
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