A CLAIM ON FRIENDSHIP.
After the sophomore five had heard a detailed account from Phyllis of
what had occurred on the floor, they were more determined than ever on
punishing the three offenders. The awkward hitch in their plans was the
fact that Miss Hale and Miss Merrill, though players on the team, could
not be included in their team mates' misdoings.
"Some one ought to tell those two girls how matters stand," was Ronny's
energetic opinion. "They must have been very dense not to see and hear
for themselves. If they noticed nothing was wrong during the game, they
must surely have heard things since. It's no secret on the campus. Talk
about a good illustration in psychology! It was a deliberate attempt at
retarding action by a malicious irritating of the mind. I think I ought
to cite it in psychology class."
Several days after the game Nina Merrill went privately to Phyllis and
frankly asked her a number of questions. Receiving blunt answers which
tallied with a rumor she had heard, she laid the matter before Ruth Hale
and both girls resigned from the junior team. This put the remaining
trio in a position they did not relish. The senior sports committee
having received the resignations of the two indignant juniors accepted
them without question. They appointed Dulcie Vale and Eleanor Ray, both
substitute players, to fill the vacancies. As the Sans had been almost
the only juniors to try for the team, the committee had little choice in
the matter. Their appointment brought elation to their team mates and
Leslie Cairns. "Ramsey will soon put them in good trim," she exulted.
"Don't wait for those sulky freshies to challenge you. After the girls
have had a week's practice, challenge the sophs and set the date two
weeks away. That will give Dulcie and Nell plenty of time to learn the
ropes."
The Saturday following the disastrous game between freshmen and juniors
saw the freshmen actually tie their score with the sophs. According to
fans it was "one beautiful game" and the freshies left the floor vastly
inspirited after their defeat of the previous week. Meanwhile the
sophomores calmly awaited the junior challenge. They were better pleased
to have the junior team composed entirely of Sans. They would have a
quintette of the same stripe with which to deal.
Before the challenge came, however, the St. Valentine masquerade, the
yearly junior dance, given on February fourteenth, claimed attention. It
was, perhaps, the most enjoyed of any Hamilton festivity. What girl can
resist the lure of a bal masque? The socially inclined students often
went to great pains and expense in the way of costumes. Three prizes
were always offered; one for the funniest, one for the prettiest, and
one for the most generally pleasing costume.
"I don't know what to wear to the masquerade," Marjorie declared rather
dolefully. The Five Travelers were holding a meeting in hers and Jerry's
room. "I'm in despair."
"Go as a French doll," suggested Ronny. "I have a pale blue net frock
made over flesh-colored taffeta. It will be sweet for you. Shorten the
skirt and it will make a stunning French doll costume. I have heelless
blue dancing slippers to match."
"You're an angel. Isn't she, Jeremiah?" Marjorie became all animation.
"What are you going to wear, oh, generous fairy god-mother?"
"My butterfly costume. The one I danced in at the Sanford campfire."
"What are you going to mask as, Jeremiah," curiously inquired Lucy.
"Every time I see you I forget to ask you."
"I am going as an infant," giggled Jerry. "I shall wear a white lawn
frock, down to my heels, and one of those engaging baby bonnets. I shall
carry a rattle and a nursing bottle and wail occasionally to let folks
know I am around."
"I don't want to dress up, but I suppose I'll have to," grumbled Lucy.
"I'll go as a school girl, I guess. I can wear a checked gingham dress I
have and a white apron, by shortening them. White stockings and white
tennis shoes will go well with it. I'll wear my hair down my back in two
braids."
"I shan't tell you what my costume's going to be. Only you will never
know me on that night." Muriel made this announcement with a tantalizing
smile.
"I would know you anywhere," contradicted Jerry. "I'll bet you a dinner
at Baretti's that I'll walk up to you after the grand march and say
'Hello, Muriel.'"
"I'll bet you you don't," was Muriel's confident reply.
"This dance has put a large crimp in basket ball," Ronny suddenly
observed. "It seems to be at a standstill. Vera said today that she
heard the juniors had challenged you sophs."
"Not yet," returned Marjorie. "Robin heard the same thing. She mentioned
it to me after chemistry today. Maybe we are due to get a challenge
tomorrow. If we do we will not take it up until after the dance. We
don't care to be bothered with it now. Do we, Muriel?"
"No, sir. After the masquerade is over we'll then turn our undivided
attention to laying the juniors up for the winter. That may be the last
game of the year, unless the freshies yearn for another. I am tired of
playing, to tell you the truth. I don't intend to play next year."
"Nor I," Marjorie said. "I like the good old game, but it takes up so
much of one's spare time. I shall go in for long walks for exercise. I
have never yet prowled around this part of the world as much as I
pleased."
"I see where I grow thin and sylph-like," beamed Jerry. "_I_ shall
accompany you on those prowls."
"I think I'll join the united prowlers' association, too," laughed
Ronny. "I'd love to have a chance to prowl about Hamilton Arms, wouldn't
you? I walked past there the other afternoon. They say that old house is
simply filled with antiques. They also say that Miss Susanna Hamilton
won't permit a student to set foot on the lawn. And all because she fell
out with a member of the Board. He must have done something very
serious."
"It is too bad she has shut herself away from everyone," Marjorie mused.
"She is probably unhappy. Leila says she looks like a little old robin.
Her hair isn't very gray and she is quite energetic. She has a rose
garden and digs in it a lot. Just to think. She could tell us the most
_interesting_ things about Brooke Hamilton and we don't know her and
never will."
"Sad but true," agreed Jerry without sadness.
During the short time that lay between them and the masquerade, the
Lookouts spent their free hours in arranging their costumes. Ronny had
to mend a broken place in one of her butterfly wings. Marjorie, Lucy and
Jerry had to turn needlewomen. While Marjorie and Lucy had to shorten
the skirts of their costumes, Jerry busied herself in laboriously
finishing the infant dress she had been working on for over two weeks.
"I'll never go back to infancy again, after the masquerade, believe me,"
she disgustedly declared. "Let me tell you, this sweet little baby gown
is fearfully and wonderfully made. I know, for I took every stitch in
it."
The day before the dance the sophomore team received the junior
challenge to play them on the twenty-seventh of February. Purposely to
keep their unworthy opponents on the anxious seat they did not
immediately answer the notice sent them. "Let them wait until after the
dance," Robin Page said scornfully. "If we had not determined to teach
them a lesson, we would turn down their challenge and state our reason
in good plain English."
The evening of the St. Valentine masquerade was always a gala one on
the campus. Dinner was served promptly at five-thirty. By seven o'clock,
if the weather permitted, masked figures in twos, threes and groups
might be seen parading the campus. Eight o'clock saw the beginning of
the grand march. Unmasking took place at half-past nine. Then the dance
continued merrily until midnight.
Hurrying from Science Hall after her last recitation of the afternoon,
Marjorie crossed the campus at a swift run. She was anxious to be early
at the lavatory for a shower before the girls began to arrive there in
numbers. Coming hastily into the hall she glanced at the bulletin board.
In the rack above it, lettered with each resident's name, was mail for
her. She gave a gurgle of pleasure as she saw that the topmost of two
letters was in her mother's hand. The other was not post-marked, which
indicated that it had come from someone at the college. She did not
recognize the writing.
Saving her mother's letter to read later, she tore open the other
envelope as she went upstairs. On the landing beside a hall window she
stopped and drew forth the contents. Her bright face clouded a trifle as
she perused the note.
"Dear Miss Dean: it read:
"It is too bad to trouble you when I know you are getting ready
for the masquerade, but could you come over to my boarding house
for a few minutes this evening at about half-past seven? I am
in great trouble and need your advice. I would ask you to come
earlier but this will be the best time for me. We moved this
week to the house two doors below the one I used to live in, so
stop at 852 instead of going on to 856. If you can find it in
your heart to come to me now I shall be deeply grateful. I am
in sore need of a friend. Please do not mention this to anyone.
"Yours sincerely,
"Anna Towne."