THE MYSTERIOUS SENIOR
Blissfully unaware of Julia Peyton’s ambitious schemes against them and
democracy at Hamilton the Travelers finished their dessert amidst plenty
of fun and laughter and flocked upstairs and into 15 again, there to
spend one of their old-time merry “stunt” evenings.
Ronny danced to Phil’s violin music. Robin sang, accompanied by the same
talented, infallible musician. Phil’s violin playing had become
institutional with the Travelers. She was always equal to musical
emergency. Leila and Vera convulsed their buoyant audience with a
quaintly humorous Irish dialogue which they had found in an old book
while in Ireland and had gleefully learned. Jerry partly sang a popular
song off the key until she was drowned out by laughter.
Muriel recited a monologue which she had composed and named: “Back on
the campus.” Barbara sang a French song. Kathie and Lillian endeavored
to sing together an old German song precisely as Professor Wenderblatt
was wont to sing it in his full bass voice. They broke down in the midst
of deep-uttered bass growls and gutterals and lost track of the tune so
completely they never found it again, but subsided with laughter.
Marjorie and Lucy pleaded having no stunt to offer and were each ordered
to recite their favorite short poem. Marjorie thereupon recited “To a
Grecian Urn,” and Lucy gave Poe’s weird, “Ulalume.” Leslie won quick
approval by her prompt response to the demand by giving a funny series
of imitations.
The feature of the stunt party was contributed, however, by Miss Remson
and Miss Susanna. They had conducted a chuckling confab together at one
end of the room into which they had invited Phil. She had listened to
them, then laughingly nodded, played a few bars of an odd little tune on
her violin and returned to her place in the center of the room.
When Phil presently tapped on her violin with her bow, the two little
old ladies stepped gaily out, hand in hand, in a lively jigging dance.
They pranced forward and back, clasped right hands above their heads and
jigged around each other, clasped left hands and jigged again, joined
right and left hands and spun in a circle then polkaed up and down the
room with spirit. There were other variations to the dance which they
performed with equal sprightliness. Their delighted audience gurgled and
squealed with laughter, breaking forth into riotous applause as the
jigging pair reached their throne and sank upon their cushions,
breathless and laughing.
Marjorie thought she had never seen a prettier sight than the pair of
dainty little old ladies in their charming satin dresses stepping out so
blithely to the old-fashioned polka.
“That is the Glendon Polka if you care to know it,” Miss Susanna
informed the girls. “I used to dance it as a girl, and I found that the
Empress of Wayland Hall knew how to dance it, too. I learned to dance it
before going to my first party. Uncle Brooke engaged a dancing master to
come and teach me the latest dances.”
“The latest dances.” Jerry said with an enjoying chuckle. “Not much like
a fox trot, is it?”
“I believe I must have learned that polka from the same dancing master,”
Miss Remson said. “I lived in West Hamilton as a girl and went to
dancing school. It was a Professor Griggs who taught me the Glendon
polka.”
“The same man,” Miss Susanna declared brightly. The two old ladies
beamed at each other. This little coincidence relative to their youth
served to strengthen the bond of friendship between them.
“This is the queer part of the Glendon polka,” Phil said. “When Miss
Susanna said she and Miss Remson were going to do an old-time dance
called the Glendon polka, I remembered I’d seen that title in an old
music book at home. I had tried it and learned to play it when I first
began to take violin lessons as a kiddie. I had liked it because it was
such a frisky little tune.”
“You never dreamed then that someday you would play it for two old
ladies to frisk to, did you?” Miss Remson gently pinched Phil’s cheek as
she sat balanced on the edge of the throne, her violin in hand.
“I never did,” Phil laughed. “I’ll never forget the Glendon polka.”
“It seems we hadn’t forgotten how to dance it in spite of our years,”
Miss Susanna said with a little nod of satisfaction.
“Did you know there were prizes to be given for the best stunts?”
Katherine Langly joined the group around the throne. Kathie was looking
her radiant best in a coral beaded afternoon frock of Georgette. Her
blue eyes were sparkling with light and life and her red lips broke
readily into smiles. She bore small likeness to the sad, self-effacing
sophomore the Travelers had taken under their protective wing at the
beginning of their freshman year at Hamilton. Kathie was now commencing
her second year as a member of the faculty. She was famed on the campus
as a playwright and her triumphantly literary future was assured. She
had already sold several short stories to important magazines and had
begun her first novel.
“Ronny is going to be magnificently generous, so she says, and give out
the prizes. She’s gone to her room after them,” Lillian added to the
information Kathie had just given.
“‘Magnificently generous’” Kathie repeated suspiciously. “That doesn’t
sound promising to me. I know she means us.”
“Could any persons be more worthy of a prize,” giggled Lillian.
“Remember how hard we worked.”
Ronny soon returned wearing a mischievous expression. She carried a
good-sized paper-wrapped package on one arm. In one hand she held two
small packages which suggested jewelry. The girls guessed the large
bundle to contain one or more boxes of the delicious candied fruit from
her ranch home of which she always had a stock on hand.
“Hear, hear!” Ronny placed her bundles on the table and waved both arms
above her head for attention. “Who had the best stunt?” she called out.
“Altogether; answer!”
“The Lady of the Arms and the Empress of Wayland Hall,” came back an
instant concerted murmur of response.
“Contrary-minded?”
“No,” piped up these two distinguished but extremely modest dancers.
“Two against eleven. Prepare to receive the prize.” Ronny importantly
opened the paper wrapper of the large package and took from it two
sweet-grass square baskets of candied fruit. She presented them in turn
with many bows and flourishes to the two elderly women.
“Who won the booby stunt?” she next demanded of the company.
Concerted opinion differed as to whether Jerry, or Kathie and Lillian
were more eligible to the booby prize. Further inquiry and Jerry was
eliminated in favor of Lillian and Kathie. The prizes turned out to be
two small willow whistles such as the cow-boys at Manaña were adept at
making.
“Next time whistle. Don’t attempt to sing,” was Ronny’s succinct advice
as she presented the would-be bass singers with the whistles.
“We can be noisy tonight and still be protected.” Marjorie made gay
declaration. She was realizing with the burst of light laughter which
greeted Ronny’s presentation of the booby prizes that the Travelers had
been enjoying a most hilarious session. “Miss Remson is right here to
know precisely how boisterous we are. Thank fortune, hardly anyone is
back.”
“I can’t imagine why we haven’t been notified of our noise by Miss
Peyton,” Jerry commented to Marjorie under cover of conversation.
As it happened Julia had become so greatly interested in her
inspirational plan for a new sorority which was to tear down democracy
at Hamilton and re-establish snobbery that she and Clara had forgotten
to be annoyed at the sounds of mirth, which, in reality, could hardly be
heard with her door closed.
“I took pains to find out today if any of the freshmen had studying to
do this evening,” the little manager said. “None had. I haven’t
considered Miss Peyton and Miss Carter in the matter. They have not yet
spoken to me since they arrived. I am sure they have no studying to do
this evening.” Her tone grew dry at mention of the two discourteous
juniors.
Immediately she went on to a change of subject. “Girls,” she said in her
brisk, pleasant fashion, “will you please make yourselves comfy, and
listen to me? I am going to tell you something of the student whom I
hope will take 15.”
“At last.” Marjorie breathed a purposely audible sigh. “I think you have
been very mysterious about her, Empress of Wayland Hall.”
A buzzing murmur rose from the others as they took seats around the
make-shift throne or comfortably established themselves upon cushions on
the floor.
Leslie Cairns showed considerable embarrassment when Miss Susanna
imperiously waved her into the middle seat of the throne. She had
laughed unrestrainedly at the fun that evening, but she had said very
little. She was hardly beginning to get over the strangeness of being a
member of the very sorority she had once scorned.
“This girl,” Miss Remson said, “is a young woman for whom I have a
growing regard. She wrote me in the summer and I was deeply impressed by
her letter. She did not then expect to enter Hamilton nor did I have 15
in view for her. As it happened no one applied for 15. There was a
difference in price between it and the other rooms I had vacant which no
one who applied seemed to wish to pay.
“As soon as I knew that she was coming to Hamilton I reserved 15 for
her, though by that time I had several applications for it. I am waiting
now to welcome her to Wayland Hall.” Miss Remson made an odd little
pause.
“We shall all be ready to do the same.” Leila spoke in a peculiarly
significant tone; as though she was understanding something which the
others did not. Her bright blue eyes were fastened squarely upon
Marjorie. They seemed to be trying to communicate a message to her.
In a sudden illuminating flash Marjorie understood the import of Miss
Remson’s remarks concerning the mysterious student who was to have Room
15.
“Oh, Miss Remson!” she breathed, her face breaking into a radiance of
sunshine. Involuntarily her eyes strayed from Leila to Leslie. The
latter was paying polite attention to Miss Remson though Marjorie
divined instantly that Leslie had not comprehended a special meaning in
the manager’s speech.
“Will you come to the Hall, Leslie?” The little manager had turned now
to Leslie, her thin pleasant face brimming with kindliness. “I should
like you to have 15. I have been saving it for you since Marjorie told
me you were to come back to Hamilton for your senior year.”
“Why—I—” Leslie stammered. “Oh, I never thought of such a thing!” she
exclaimed with bewildered gratitude. “It’s wonderful in you to wish me
to come back after the way I treated you. I’d love to, but I can’t
accept. It wouldn’t be right.” Tears crowded to her eyes. She clenched
her hands and made a desperate effort at self-control.
“Now, now, now!” Up went one of Miss Remson’s hands, arrestingly. “Never
mind anything but the present, child. I wish you to have 15. That
settles the matter. I must tell the girls a little more about your
letter. Leslie wrote me last June, children, such a splendid letter.”
“Hurrah, hurrah!” Vera had raised a subdued cheer. “Hurrah for our new
Traveler in 15.” She started the hurrahing with the kindly object of
giving Leslie an opportunity to control a threatened burst of tears. The
others took up the cheering with moderated vigor.
“Please don’t credit me with anything splendid, Miss Remson.” Leslie
forced tremulousness from her enunciation. “You girls understand me when
I say that I couldn’t have done differently, and feel right.” She made a
slight gesture of appeal toward the circle of faces approvingly turned
upon her. “I might have known Miss Remson would tell you in the nicest
way toward me. I meant to tell you all myself someday.” She bent a half
rueful glance of affection upon the little woman beside her.
“Ah, but you have not told us something else which we think you should.”
Leila had risen from the cushion on which she had been sitting. She came
up to Leslie, hand extended. “Will you not accept the hand of fellowship
and say: ‘Thank you kindly, Irish Leila, it is myself that will be
moving my trunks to Wayland Hall and be settling down in 15.’”
Leila’s inimitable touch of brogue was irresistible to Leslie. She began
to laugh. The two who had once been implacable enemies gripped hands
with a friendly strength and fervor. It was a silent acknowledgment
that, for them, there could be nothing in future less than devoted
friendship. The deep-rooted disapproval of Leslie which Leila had not
been able to conquer until within that very hour vanished never to
return.
It was the signal for the others to press about Leslie, shaking her
hand, each one adding some pleasant plea for her return to the Hall.
Marjorie was last of the group to clasp hands with Leslie. She merely
said, as she regarded the other girl with a bright, winsome smile:
“Won’t you please take 15, Leslie?”
“Yes.” Leslie’s tone was steady now. “How can I do otherwise? Not only
because all of you wish me to do it. It’s best for me, though it may be
the hard way for a while. You understand what I mean.”
“Yes. We all understand. We know what you wish most. You can make a
stronger fight for it at the Hall than if you were to live off the
campus. We’ll all stand by you.” Marjorie had taken Leslie’s other hand.
The two girls faced each other, staunch comradeship in the pose.
“I’ll stand by myself.” Leslie’s characteristic independent spirit,
obscured by emotion, flashed forth. “Not that I shan’t like to remember
that I’ve true pals ready to fight for me. But it’s this way. Once I did
a great deal of lawless damage on the campus. Now it’s up to me to
repair it, and stand all criticisms while I’m at the repairing job.”
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