"Sit down," ordered Leslie sharply, "and keep your voice down! You have
made us all enough trouble. We don't propose that you shall add to it."
"I have not," shrieked Dulcie. "I don't know what you are talking about.
You're crazy if you say I told all that stuff you mentioned. Why don't
you put the blame where it belongs? You told me yourself that Loretta
and Margaret were both gossips. You told Bess Walbert a lot of things
yourself. She told me so. You used to tell Lola Elster a lot, too. Nat
Weyman isn't above gossiping, either. She has said some _hateful_ things
about you, if you care to know it."
Fully launched, Dulcie bade fair to stir up dissension in a breath.
Worse, her lung power seemed to increase with every word.
"Pay no attention to her," Leslie advised her chums in a cold, level
voice. "She can tell more yarns to the second than anyone else I know."
"You said you could manage her, Les. For goodness' sake do so. I am
afraid she'll be heard down stairs." Joan Myers sprang to her feet in
exasperation.
"Leave that to me." Leslie's eyes snapped. She was fast losing the
admirable poise she had held so well. The real Leslie Cairns was coming
to the surface.
Three or four lithe steps and she was facing Dulcie. The latter still
stood by her chair shrieking forth invective.
"Listen to me, you _idiot_," she said with an intensity of wrath that
approached a snarl. "Cut out that screaming--_now_. We are done with you.
We know you for what you are. Not one of us will ever speak to you again
after you leave this room. Get that straight. If you ever repeat another
word on the campus of the Sans' business you will be a sorry girl.
_Don't you forget that._ You carried the idea that, if trouble came from
your talk, you could slide out of it and leave us to face it. You
couldn't have cleared yourself. What you are to do from now on is----"
A sharp rapping at the door interrupted Leslie. Raising a warning finger
to her lips, she crossed the room to answer the knock.
"Good evening, Miss Remson," she coldly greeted. "Will you come in? Our
club is holding a meeting in my room." She made an indifferent gesture
toward the assembled girls.
"Good evening, Miss Cairns. No; I do not wish to enter your room. I must
insist, however, that you conduct your meeting quietly. The commotion
going on in here can be heard downstairs."
The very impersonality of the manager's reproof brought a quick rush of
blood to Leslie's cheeks. It was as though Miss Remson considered Leslie
and her companions so far beneath her it took conscientious effort on
her part even to reprove them. It stung Leslie to a desire to clear
herself of the opprobrium.
"I am sorry about the noise," she apologized in annoyed embarrassment.
"Miss Vale is responsible for it. I have been trying to quiet her. She
is very angry with us for calling her to account for disloyalty. She has
done so many despicable things we felt it necessary to call a meeting of
the club to----"
"Pardon me. I am not interested in anything save the fact that there
must be no more screaming or loud altercation from this room tonight or
at any other time. As it is your room, Miss Cairns, I shall hold you
responsible for the good behavior of your guests."
Again the aloofness of the rebuke cut Leslie through and through. She
had never believed that she could be so utterly snubbed by "Trotty"
Remson.
"Very well." It was the only thing she could think of to say.
Miss Remson turned from the door and went on down the long hall. Leslie
was seized with a savage inclination to bang the door. She refrained
from indulging it. There had been enough noise already.
She returned to her companions to find Dulcie furious because she had
been reported to Miss Remson as the author of the commotion.
"Talk about anyone being treacherous," she stormed, but in a more
subdued key. "_You're_ treacherous as a snake. _You'd_ tell tales on--on
your own father, if it would save you from disgrace."
"That's enough." Leslie's last atom of self-control vanished. "I am
tired of your foolishness. Get out of my room, instantly. Don't you ever
dare even speak to me again. Let me hear one word you have said against
any of us and I will have you expelled within twenty-four hours
afterward. I can do it, too. If you go to headquarters with any tales
against us, remember you are one and we are seventeen who will act as
one in denying your fairy stories. You----"
"Not fairy stories," sneered Dulcie. "I'd be satisfied to tell the truth
about you deceitful things. It would more than run you out of Hamilton."
"You couldn't tell the truth to save your life," retorted Leslie with a
caustic contempt which hit Dulcie harder than anything else Leslie had
said to her.
"I--I--think----" Dulcie struggled with her emotions, then suddenly burst
into hysterical sobs. Her arm against her face to shut her distorted
features from sight of her accusers, she stumbled to the door, groping
for the knob with her free hand. An instant and she had gone, too
thoroughly humiliated to slam the door after her. The sounds of her
weeping could be faintly heard by the others until her own door closed
behind her.
"Gone!" Joan Myers sighed exaggerated relief.
"Yes; and _broken_," announced Leslie Cairns with cruel satisfaction.
"Oh, I don't know," differed Margaret Wayne. She had not forgotten
Dulcie's assertion as to what Leslie had said of her and Loretta. "Dulc
had spunk enough to answer you back to the very last. I don't see
that----"
"No, you don't see. Well, I do. I say that Dulcie Vale left here just
now _utterly crushed_," argued Leslie with stress. "You are peeved,
Margaret, because of what she claimed I said of you and Retta. She
lied."
"Certainly, Dulcie lied," supported Natalie. "Do you believe that _I_,
Leslie's best friend, would say hateful things about her? Yet Dulc said
I had. Didn't Les warn you not to pay any attention to what she said? We
knew she would try to make trouble among the Sans the minute we called
her down."
"We did, indeed." Leslie made a movement of her head that betokened
Dulcie's utter hopelessness.
"I didn't say I believed what Dulcie said," half-apologized Margaret. In
her heart she did not trust Leslie, however. It was like her to make
just such remarks about any of the Sans if in bad humor.
"Never mind. It isn't worrying me," was the purposely careless response.
"To go back to what you said about Dulc not being broken. I have known
her longer than you, Margaret. She can keep up a row about so long, then
she crumples. After that there isn't a spark of fight left in her. She
always ends by a fit of crying, next door to hysterics. Isn't that true
of her, Nat?"
Natalie nodded. "Yes; Dulcie will mind her own affairs now and keep her
mouth closed for a long time to come."
"She's afraid of me," Leslie continued, her intonation harsh. "She
doesn't know just the extent of my influence here."
"Could you truly have her expelled within twenty-four hours?" queried
Harriet Stephens somewhat incredulously.
"You heard me say so. It would take a very slight effort to do that. I
could wire my father, then----" Leslie paused, looking mysterious. "Sorry,
girls, but I can't tell you any more than that. I'll simply say that my
wonderful father's influence can remove mountains, if necessary. That's
why I was so furious with that little sneak for daring even to mention
his name."
"Could your father's influence save you from being expelled if different
things you have done here were brought up against you?" demanded
Adelaide Forman.
Leslie's eyes narrowed at the question. It was a little too searching
for comfort. In reality her father's influence at Hamilton was a minus
quantity. She had been boasting with a view toward increasing her own
importance.
"It would depend entirely on what I had done," she answered after a
moment's thought. "You must understand that my father would be wild if
he knew I had gone out hazing when it is strictly against rules. He
wouldn't do a thing to help me if I had trouble with Matthews over that.
If I wrote him that Dulcie, for instance, was trying, by lies, to have
me or my friends expelled from Hamilton, he would fight for me in a
minute."
The Sans stayed for some time in Leslie's room planning how they would
meet further remarks leveled at them on the campus as a result of
Dulcie's defection. Leslie brought forth a fresh five-pound box of
chocolates and another of imported sweet crackers. The party feasted and
enjoyed themselves regardless of the fact that three doors from them a
former comrade writhed and wept in an agony of angry shame. While in a
measure their course might be justified, there was not one among them
who had not, to a certain extent, and at some time or other, betrayed
friendship.
This was also Dulcie's most bitter grievance against those who had been
her chums. She knew now that she had talked too much. So had the others.
Still, she was sorry for herself. She had been deceived in Bess Walbert.
Bess was the one who had circulated most of the Sans' private affairs.
She could not recall just how much she had told Bess; very likely no
more than had Leslie. If they had given her time she would have been
able to defend herself. With such reflections she strove to palliate her
own offenses.
"Do you imagine Dulc will try to get back at us?" was Natalie's first
remark to Leslie as the door closed on the departing Sans. "She carried
on about as I thought she might. We came off easily with Remson, didn't
we?"
"Dulcie is done, I tell you," reasserted Leslie with an impatient scowl.
"Remson! Humph! My worst enemy couldn't have delivered a more telling
snub. She may suspect us of making trouble between her and Matthews.
I'll say, I wish this year was done and Commencement here. If we slide
through and capture those precious diplomas without the sword falling it
will be a miracle."