LE PETIT OISEAU
“You are positive of it, Marylyn?” Stephanie Norris’s voice betrayed
triumphant excitement. “You must be able to prove, you know, that she
really _is_ the person you saw in Paris, before you dare let the news
get out on the campus. Otherwise she would fly at you like a hornet, or
else take her troubles to Prexy.”
“I’m positive enough of what I tell you. I can prove it, too, by a
French theatre program I have with her picture on the front cover. I
have always been puzzled, wondering why her face seemed so familiar to
me. I was sure I’d seen her somewhere on the Continent when we were
abroad last summer. The night of the frolic I was more sure of it than
ever when I saw her in that peachblow frock, doing that fancy trot with
the tall soph. Even then I couldn’t place her. Yesterday afternoon I was
talking to Miss Werner who was in Paris about the same time that we
were. We both happened to remember a particularly good vaudeville show
we’d seen there. Then it flashed across me, all of a sudden, ‘_Le Petit
Oiseau_.’ That’s the way she was programmed. She came out first in a
dress that was almost the same shade of pink as the one she wore to the
frolic, and did some marvelously clever acrobatic stunts. Then she
changed to a scarlet and black trapeze rig with cunning little black
wings. She had a partner then, a catcher, I believe they call him, and
then she did some toppo stunts on the flying trapeze.”
Marylyn Spencer, small, and rather pretty, save for a pair of lynx-like,
calculating eyes, fairly paused for breath after her rapidly-spoken
revelation. She was a faithful satellite of Stephanie’s, far more in
harmony with the latter’s high-handed methods than was Laura. “I’ve
written to Mother to send me the program. It was so artistic I kept it
as a Paris souvenir. I know I’m right about it,” she finished
emphatically.
“_A common trapeze performer_,” Arline Redmond said with infinite
disdain. “_That is_ the limit. No wonder she behaved like a wild cat to
you at the frolic, Steve. She certainly doesn’t belong at Hamilton.
There _are_ colleges, of course, suited to such _ambitious persons_.”
She laughed disagreeably. “She had nerve to come to Hamilton.”
“I imagine she got into Hamilton under false pretenses.” Stephanie took
eager advantage of the opening. “Possibly Miss Cairns may know the truth
about her. I’ll say the faculty doesn’t. When do you expect to receive
that program from home, Marylyn?”
“Within three or four days. Why? What are you going to do?” she demanded
curiously. More or less of her curiosity was reflected upon the faces of
the other girls who were present in Stephanie’s room. Among the group
Laura alone maintained a bored silence. No word of the gossiping
conversation, going on animatedly in the room, was “getting by” her.
“Never mind what I’m going to do. Let me have that program as soon as
you can. Then look out.” Stephanie gave a soft malicious little laugh.
“You’ll have to be very careful what you do, Steve,” warned Mildred
Ferguson half sourly. She had been unable to “think up” a telling
revenge against Jewel Ogden and was slightly peeved at Marylyn’s
success. “If you start anything about Miss Ogden having been a circus
performer going on the campus you’ll soon find both Miss Cairns and Miss
Harper on your trail. They can make it hot for you, too.”
“_That_ for Miss Cairns and Miss Harper,” Stephanie snapped contemptuous
fingers. “Miss Harper is lovely to me, and Miss Cairns would be, too, if
I gave her the slightest opening. Don’t worry, I know how to put this
little stunt over, and no one, outside you girls here, will be able to
say how it happened.”
“Much ado about nothing,” Laura had come out of her bored silence.
“Possibly, after Steve has behaved like the villain in a melodrama
you’ll then all discover that the Ogden kid doesn’t care a hang who
knows she was once a trapeze performer. It may give her a fine boost on
the campus.”
“Nothing of the sort.” Stephanie turned angrily upon Laura. “If she’d
felt like that about it she would have boasted of it long ago, to me.
She’s horribly conceited. No, indeed. She was always very evasive
whenever I happened to ask her any personal questions. Besides, she told
me she had attended Warburton Prep.”
“Possibly she had,” Laura retorted.
“I doubt it. You’re always on the wrong side of the fence lately. Since
you don’t agree with me, please, at least, remember that this is a
confidential talk,” Stephanie reminded icily.
“Now you _have_ said something.” Laura thereupon subsided with an amused
air which only an odd glint in her pale blue eyes contradicted.
Meanwhile Jewel had taken Leslie’s blunt advice to heart and was trying
to regain the self-assured air that had characterized her during her
first days at college. Hearing no further adverse criticisms of herself
she was now glad that she had followed the line of conduct which Leslie
had advocated.
Returning from a ride with Leslie in the late October dusk the eyes of
both girls were simultaneously attracted by the sight of a folded
newspaper held in place by the knob of their room door.
“The Hamilton Gazette,” Jewel read in surprise. “How queer, and it’s
addressed to me! I wonder who put it there?”
“Some little mystery.” Leslie had already entered the room and switched
on the light. Her thoughts elsewhere, she was paying no particular
attention to the freshman as she stood ripping off the news sheet’s
addressed wrapper. She heard, mechanically, the rustle of unfolding
paper, followed by sudden silence.
“Oh-h-h-h!”
Leslie was unprepared for the long, anguished wail which Jewel sent up.
Sight of the little girl’s horrified expression, and she came quickly
forward, saying anxiously, “What’s the matter, Jewel?”
“Read it! Read it!” the freshman cried, holding the paper toward Leslie
with shaking hands. “Look. _You_ did that. No one but you could have
done it. I—I—hate you!” She thrust the paper forcefully into Leslie’s
hands.
“What?” Leslie had already busied herself with the fateful news sheet.
Squarely at top center of the first page was a badly-blurred picture of
a girl in a very short-skirted evening frock. Her pose, however, was
distinctly theatrical. Despite blurred reproduction the girl in the
picture was unmistakably Jewel. Below the picture Leslie read the
large-type headline, “Trapeze Performer a College Innovation.”
Amazed interest glued Leslie’s eyes to the half column article below the
head line. She read on, dimly conscious of Jewel’s accompanying angry
voice.
“Where did you get that picture?” she finished in time to hear Jewel
storm. “You had it all the time. You must have seen our show in Paris,
then pretended innocence to me. That picture was on the theatre program,
and you know it. No one else knew about me except you. How _could_ you?”
“Come out of it, Jewel,” Leslie said with brusque kindness. “Listen to
me. Didn’t I give you my word of honor regarding your secret?”
“Yes, and broke it,” Jewel flung back furiously.
“You should know me better than that. Try to be reasonable. What object
would I possibly have in doing any such contemptible thing?”
“How should I know? Probably you told your friend Mrs. Macy about it.
She may have told another of her intimate friends,” Jewel replied
bitterly. “She—”
“I have told _no one_. Mrs. Macy is above reproach. You will kindly
leave her name out of the discussion.” Pale with wrath, the chill of
Leslie’s tones cut through Jewel’s anger.
“Perhaps she didn’t—” she began, half ashamed; Leslie, however, had
reached the door and left the room without heeding the angry freshman’s
half attempt at exoneration. Left to herself resentment against Leslie
again possessed her. When, half an hour later, Leslie returned, well
over the surge of black anger that had threatened to burst upon Jewel,
the freshman appeared stonily unaware of her presence in the room.
In the dining room that evening girl comment ran decorously rife. Every
freshie at the Hall had found a copy of the “Hamilton Gazette” at her
door that afternoon. They awaited Jewel’s entrance into the dining room
with more or less eager curiosity. She did not appear at dinner, to
their signal disappointment. Far from being shocked at the write-up, the
broader-minded element among them were inclined to lionize Jewel.
Weighed down by a false sense of shame, she could not possibly guess
this.
In Stephanie Norris’s room that evening a triumphantly lively discussion
went on at Stephanie’s coup de grace. The freshman’s non-appearance at
dinner they had chose to regard as significant.
“I knew I was right about her,” Marylyn Spencer elatedly repeated.
“However did you manage, Steve? I mean so that there won’t be a
come-back for you. Remember I must have that program back again.”
“I’m going into town tomorrow. I’ll send a messenger boy from the
Hamilton House for it, and wait for its return to me there. I shall
simply tell him,” Stephanie broke into an amused laugh, “to ask the
editor for Miss Harper’s program.”
“Miss Harper?” went up in several different keys of surprise.
“Yes. It’s awfully funny. You see I happened to mention Miss Harper’s
name in connection with the Playhouse, and the editor must have mistaken
me for her. He very politely called me Miss Harper. So—” again she
laughed,—“I let it go at that.”
“Then, no one can possibly connect us with—” Joyce Gray, Marylyn’s
roommate began excitedly.
“This pleasant little joke,” Laura Taylor supplied mockingly. “You were
in luck again, weren’t you, Steve.”
“Yes.” Stephanie cast a suspicious glance at Laura. The latter’s
immobile face told her nothing.
“I imagine she will try to brave this out,” Mildred Ferguson said half
contemptuously. “Some of the students are silly enough to begin making a
fuss over her. We ought to do something more, before this affair dies
out, to chase her off the campus.”
“What?” came in an expectant chorus.
“Haze her,” Mildred replied very deliberately.
“It’s strictly forbidden at Hamilton,” demurred Edith Barber. “It’s sure
enough expellment if one is caught at it.”
“Oh, yes, of course, but one needn’t be caught at it. I know something
we might do that couldn’t possibly be proven against us, if we were to
be caught hazing that midget. Are you willing to try it out?”
“I am,” Stephanie made instant reply.
“I’d rather know what your plan is before making any promises,” Joyce
said doubtfully.
“So should I,” came from two or three of the others.
“Never mind, I’ll tell you about it, then you can decide,” Mildred
conceded. “There’s a room at the back of Hamilton Hall, first floor,
that the students are permitted to use for rehearsals of campus house
plays. All one has to do is to ask the janitor for the key, and it can
be entered from a side door. The door opening upon the corridor can be
locked. All one has to promise is to be out of the room by ten o’clock.
First we’ll write Miss Ogden a note asking her to come to that room by
the side entrance at eight o’clock on a certain evening for the
discussion of a grave matter. We’ll simply sign it ‘Chairman, Senior
Welfare Committee.’ When she steps into the room she’ll see seven masked
figures in gray dominos waiting for her. One of us, it had better be
Steve, will play chairman and make her a speech about campus interests
demanding that she leave Hamilton. Steve will have to speak very
sternly, so as to make her believe that she is really in bad with the
best class of Hamilton students because of the write-up in the
‘Gazette.’ Nine chances out of ten she will swallow the bait and leave
college. None of the rest of us will say a word, and Steve will have to
disguise her voice. If anyone should happen to be around that might make
trouble we can easily explain our presence there by saying we were
simply rehearsing a little play, and deny knowing anything about either
the note we’ll send her, or the Senior Welfare Committee. But there’s
absolutely no danger of discovery.” Mildred glanced about the circle of
interested faces, confident that she had scored.
“It’s a dandy scheme.” Stephanie drew a long breath of satisfaction.
“But I can’t disguise my voice well enough to act as chairman. Laura
can.” She looked dubiously at her roommate, not sure but that Laura
would balk. “Would you be the chairman, Laura?” she asked persuasively.
“Yes.” Laura’s prompt acceptance made Stephanie open her eyes.
“I’ll write you a speech. You’ll have to learn it by heart and practice
it,” Mildred told the stout freshman. “It ought to be something like
this: ‘My dear Miss Ogden, it has long been the custom of a selected
committee of seniors, secretly appointed each year by a certain person
to deal privately with such matters as may rise to interfere with the
welfare of the students of Hamilton.’ How is that?” she appealed,
laughing.
“Fine,” exulted Stephanie.
An accompanying murmur of approval arose. Laura alone kept silence.
“What do you think of it, Laura?” Stephanie was aware of Laura’s
muteness.
“It will answer the purpose. When will the party come off, where are the
dominos to come from?”
“We’ll buy the cloth and make them. We can run them up by hand tomorrow
night. I’ll make yours for you while you’re learning your part. I’ll
write the speech this very night. This is Tuesday. We can try our little
stunt on Thursday, provided no one else is going to use the room on
Thursday night. I’ll find that out tomorrow morning. The sooner it
happens, the sooner we’ll see the last of Jewel Marie Ogden.”
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