PLANNING MISCHIEF
The appearance of Leslie Cairns the next week at Wayland Hall, followed
by her trunk, temporarily drove Julia Peyton’s club ambitions far
afield. To discover that Leslie, to whom Julia liked to refer in shocked
tones to others as “that terrible Miss Cairns,” was to become a resident
once more of Wayland Hall filled her with spiteful amazement and
speculation.
“How do you suppose she ever got in here?” was the question she most
frequently addressed to Clara Carter during the first two days following
Leslie’s return to the Hall. Neither she nor Clara had been able to
glean any information in the matter from other students at the Hall.
Wayland Hall was filling up rapidly. The upper classmen were busy
arranging their programs and looking up their friends. The entering
freshmen at the Hall were busy either with entrance examinations or
unpacking and straightening their belongings.
To add to Julia’s disgruntlement, Doris Monroe had been back at the Hall
almost a week, yet not once had she noticed either Julia or Clara except
by the distant courtesy of a bow or salutation whenever she chanced to
encounter her two treacherous classmates.
Doris was far too greatly delighted with the way matters had shaped
themselves for Leslie to think much of anything else. Of all the girls
Leslie had known in her lawless days Doris had been the only one who had
liked her for herself. From the day of Leslie’s reconciliation with her
father Doris and Leslie had continued their growing friendship on an
even better basis than before. At last, each of the two girls knew the
joy of claiming a real “pal.”
Muriel had generously offered to release Doris from rooming with her,
thus leaving her free to room in 15 with Leslie. Not only did Doris
refuse to take advantage of the offer, Leslie herself would not hear to
it. “Stay where you are,” she had laughingly ordered Doris. “I’ll hang
around with both of you.” Secretly she courted the prospect of Muriel’s
enlivening company as a third in the chumship. More than once in the old
days she had reluctantly admired “Harding’s nerve.”
When, in the course of a week, Julia learned that Leslie Cairns had
re-entered Hamilton College as a member of the senior class her surprise
at the news was soon superceded by a resentful desire to oust Leslie
from Wayland Hall. Her jealous, vengeful disposition was an inheritance
from her father, who bore the title of “Wolf Peyton” among Wall Street
brokers where his offices were situated. Added to this grave flaw of
character was her paramount will to gossip which had developed in her as
a result of being the youngest child among three grown-up married
sisters who were prone to gossip freely in her presence about friends
and acquaintances.
For two weeks succeeding Leslie’s advent at Wayland Hall, Julia racked
her brain for a plan of malicious procedure which she might turn against
Leslie. She consulted long and darkly with Clara Carter, whose ideas
were not more feasible than her own.
“There’s only one way to force Miss Remson to take action against Miss
Cairns,” she declared moodily to Clara one evening after dinner as the
two sat down opposite each other at their study table.
“What’s that?” Clara closed the Horace she had just opened and fixed
expectant eyes upon Julia.
“Start a petition against having Miss Cairns in the house and then get
the majority of students here to sign it. There’s only one trouble. We
need something specially definite to charge her with.”
“Well, what about the Rustic Romp?” Clara instantly suggested.
“That doesn’t amount to much.” Julia shrugged scornfully. “Besides Miss
Dean and Doris would fight for her if I started that story again. I
don’t care to have them interfering in this business. I’ll have to be
careful. I shall expect you to nominate me for president of our new
club. I’ll nominate you in return for vice-president. Caroline Phelps
has promised to propose my name for class president. I’m letting her use
my new car, you know. She ought to do something for me. However, that’s
not to the point about Miss Cairns. What I’d like to find out is just
why she was expelled from Hamilton College.”
“I thought you _knew_!” Clara opened innocent eyes. Here was an
opportunity to nettle Julia. She seized it with avidity. “Why, it was
for hazing. How strange that you——”
“You may think you are telling me something, but you are not.” Julia
grew emphatically rude. “I knew before ever you knew that it was for
hazing. They say she and a crowd of girls, called the Sans Soucians
Club, hazed Miss Dean. Did you know that?” she inquired, loftily
incredulous.
“Of course I knew it. You told me that yourself, long ago.”
“Oh.” Julia showed a slightly crestfallen air. “It doesn’t interest me,”
she continued after a moment. “I’ve heard that she would have been
expelled long before that hazing affair if it hadn’t been for her
father’s millions. What are some of the other things she did that might
warrant expulsion here? That’s what I should like to know. It’s what I’m
going to find out. She made trouble between Doris and me. Doris only
speaks to me when she can’t avoid speaking. I’ll never forgive Leslie
Cairns for that.” Julia’s voice rose angrily.
“Sh-h-h. You are talking loudly.” Clara held up a warning hand. “Someone
passing through the hall might hear you.”
Julia frowned, but discreetly lowered her voice. “If I can learn just
one very dishonorable thing she did before she was expelled I can start
the petition and carry it out. Most of the girls here are juniors, and
will be on our side. You see last year Doris and Augusta Forbes were at
swords’ points at class election. Doris made a great mistake when she
buried the hatchet after class election and was nice to Miss Forbes. The
girls who rooted for her, and against Miss Forbes, are not going to
forget in a hurry the way Doris went back on them. Now she is crazy
about Miss Harper and Miss Dean and that provoking Miss Harding. _She_
always looks as though she’d like to laugh in my face every time I
happen to meet her on the campus, or in the house.”
“I can’t endure her.” Clara was willing to agree with Julia regarding
Muriel. More than once she had vaguely detected a furtive, laughing
gleam in Muriel’s velvety brown eyes when they had chanced to meet. “I’d
love to be vice-president of our club. I’d not care to be president. You
would make a better president than I—probably.” She could not resist
delivering this one tiny thrust.
“Naturally. I have more initiative than you.” Julia retorted
complacently. “I am more competent to manage a club than you would be.
But you generally work very nicely with me,” she allowed with
condescension.
“I always try to, unless you are too provoking,” Clara flung back. “How
many girls at the Hall do you believe we can count upon already? I’ll
write down their names in the back of my note book.” She was determined
to show herself as extremely useful to Julia’s scheme.
“Very well.” Julia raised dignified brows. “First put down the name of
Miss Ferguson and Miss Waters, those two freshies in 17. They are dandy
girls. I’m rather glad now that I didn’t make a fuss about the noise in
15 that night before college opened. Miss Ferguson has told me since I
met her that she heard it but was too good a sport to make a fuss. She
said she detested a fusser, a dig, a prig or a wet blanket. When she was
at Davidson Prep she said she used to cut classes and stay out after
ten-thirty. Once she and another girl went to a dinner dance in New York
without permission.” Julia forgot dignity and grew animated. “Davidson
is only a few miles from New York. They had asked permission of the
registrar and she had refused them. They went just the same, came back
at noon the next day and not a soul except the girls in the next room to
them knew they were away. Wasn’t that cunning?”
“Rash, I should say. I imagine I might like Miss Waters better than Miss
Ferguson. She’s not so swanky and flapperish.”
“Go ahead then, and be nice to her. It will help our cause along,” Julia
advised with simulated heartiness. She craftily avoided arguing with
Clara. Her disagreement with Doris of the previous spring had taught her
at least one virtue. She could accomplish more by craftiness than by
belligerency. She was doggedly determined upon one point—the utter
humiliation of Leslie Cairns.
As maliciously as Leslie Cairns had once planned to humiliate Marjorie
Dean, just as strongly Julia Peyton was now arrayed against Leslie
Cairns.
------------------------------------------------------------------------