SEEKERS OF DISCORD
Fifteen minutes after the arrival of Marian and Maizie a disgruntled
trio of girls sat closeted in the room belonging to Marian and Maizie.
"It's all your fault," stormed Elsie Noble, her sharp black eyes full of
rancor. "If you'd come here as you promised instead of being a week late
you could have used the wonderful influence you _say_ you have with Mrs.
Weatherbee to let me keep that room. It's forty times nicer than the one
I have."
"I couldn't get here any sooner. Howard Armstead gave a dinner dance
specially in honor of _me_ and we had to stay for it."
Marian crested her blonde head as she flung forth this triumphant
excuse.
"Of course you did. You're so boy-struck you can't see straight. I
might have known it was because of one of your silly old beaux. I'm glad
I have more sense."
"You don't show any signs of it," sneered Marian.
"Stop quarreling, both of you," drawled Maizie. "Go go ahead, Elsie, and
tell us what happened about the room. That's the thing we want to know.
For goodness' sake keep your voice down though. You don't talk. You
shout."
"I'd rather shout than drawl my words as if I were too lazy to say
them," retaliated Elsie wrathfully.
"All right, shout then and let everybody in the Hall know your
business," was Maizie's tranquil response.
"If you came here to fuss, Elsie, then we can get along very well
without you. If you expect to go around with us, you'll have to behave
like a human being."
Marian's cool insolence had an instantly subduing effect on her
belligerent relative. She knew that Marian was quite capable of dropping
her, then and there.
"I don't know what happened about the room," she said sulkily, but in a
decidedly lower key. "I came here at nine o'clock in the morning. Mrs.
Weatherbee sent the maid with me to the room. That Stearns girl said I
must have made a mistake. I knew that she wasn't exactly pleased. She
said hardly a word to me. She went out and stayed out until just before
luncheon. Then she came in for about ten minutes and went downstairs. I
didn't see her again."
"She was probably running around the campus telling her friends about
it," lazily surmised Maizie. "I'll bet she was all at sea. Wonder if she
went to Weatherbee with a string of complaints."
"What happened after that?" queried Marian impatiently.
"What happened?" Elsie pitched the question in a shrill angry key.
"Enough, I should say. I unpacked part of my things, then finished
reading a dandy mystery story I'd begun on the train. About four o'clock
Mrs. Weatherbee sailed in here and made me give up the room."
"What did she say?" was the concerted question.
"She said there'd been a misunderstanding about Miss Allen's coming back
to the Hall. That Miss Allen was not to blame and so must have her own
room. I said I wouldn't give it up and she said it was not for me, but
her, to decide that. She said I could have the other room if I wanted
it. If I didn't then she had nothing else to offer me. I said I'd go to
the registrar about it. She just looked superior and said, 'As you
please.' I knew I was beaten. If I went to the registrar, then Mrs.
Weatherbee would have a chance to show her that letter. If I gave in,
very likely she'd let the whole thing drop. As long as she'd offered me
another room here, I thought it was best to take it."
"I didn't think it would turn out like that," frowned Marian.
"Weatherbee couldn't bear Jane Allen last year. I was sure she'd be only
too glad to get rid of her. That letter was meant to make her furious,
enough so that she wouldn't let this Allen girl into the Hall again.
Something remarkable must have happened."
"Weatherbee didn't suspect you, anyway," chimed in Maizie. "She was all
smiles when we went into her office."
"Yes, she was sweet as cream. She could never trace it to me anyway. I
took good care of that."
"Who wrote it for you?" asked Elsie curiously.
"That's my affair," rudely returned Marian. "If I told you all my
business you'd know as much as I do. I'm sorry the scheme didn't work,
but, at least, you got into the Hall. I'm certainly glad that girl
failed in her exams. As for Jane Allen--well, I'm not through with her
yet. Who is your roommate?"
"A Miss Reynolds. She's a soph----"
"_Alicia Reynolds!_" chorused two interrupting voices.
"Well of all things!" Marian's pale eyes widened with surprise. "What do
you think of that, Maiz?"
"You're in luck, Marian," Maizie averred with a slow smile. "You stand a
better chance of getting in with Alicia again. Elsie can help you if she
doesn't go to work and fuss with Alicia the first thing."
"What are you talking about? Who is this Alicia Reynolds?" inquired
Elsie curiously.
"Oh, we chummed with her last year. She didn't like this Jane Allen any
better than we did. Then last spring she went riding and fell off her
horse and our dear Miss Allen picked her up and brought her home on her
own horse. Alicia wasn't hurt. She thought she was and that the Allen
girl was a heroine," glibly related Marian. "She listened to a lot of
lies Jane Allen told her about us and now she won't speak to either of
us. It's too bad, because we are really her friends and this Allen
person isn't. Some day we hope to prove it to her."
"This Jane Allen must be a terrible mischief-maker," was Elsie's
opinion. "I told her what I thought of her the afternoon she came."
"You did?" exclaimed Marian.
"Yes, sirree. I went straight to her room and spoke my mind. I was so
furious with her. The very next morning Mrs. Weatherbee put me at the
same table with her. It was my first meal at the Hall. I went to
Rutherford Inn for luncheon and dinner. I was hungry and thought maybe
the meals wouldn't suit me. They're all right, though. When I saw her at
the table I was going to balk about sitting there, then I changed my
mind. I had as much right to be there as she. I told her that, too."
"Some little scrapper," murmured Maizie.
There was cunning significance, however, in the slow glance she cast at
Marian.
"What did she say to you?"
Marian had returned Maizie's glance with one of equal meaning.
"Not much of anything. I didn't give her a chance," boasted Elsie. "That
little French girl snapped me up in a hurry. She's awfully pretty,
isn't she?"
"She's a little cat," retorted Marian. "Look out for her. She's too
clever for you. Her mother's Eloise Dupree, the dancer. She dances too.
They're friends of President Blakesly's. She's awfully popular here and
afraid of nobody. She's devoted to Jane Allen, though, so that settles
her with me."
"Is Dorothy Martin at your table?" asked Maizie.
"Yes. I don't like her."
"She's a prig," shrugged Maizie.
"Edith Hammond used to sit there. Do you know her?" queried Marian of
Elsie.
"She's not here any more. She's going to be married. I heard this
Dorothy talking about her yesterday to Miss Dupree."
"Glad's she's gone. She was another turncoat. Hated Jane Allen and then
started to be nice to her all of a sudden."
"This Jane Allen seems to have a lot of friends for all you girls say
about her," Elsie asserted almost defiantly. "I detest her, but I notice
she's never alone. The first night she came there was a crowd of girls
in her room. I heard them laughing and singing."
"They didn't come to _see her_," informed Marian scornfully. "It's
Judith Stearns that draws them. She's very popular at Wellington. Can't
see why, I'm sure. Anyway Jane Allen has pulled the wool over her eyes
until she thinks she has a wonderful roommate."
"Jane Allen hasn't so many friends," broke in Maizie. "Dorothy Martin,
Judith, Adrienne Dupree, Ethel Lacey, she's Adrienne's roommate, and
Norma Bennett. That's all. Lots of girls in the sophomore class don't
like her."
"Yes, and who's Norma Bennett," sneered Marian. "She used to be a
kitchen maid; now she's a third-rate actress. She's a pet of Adrienne's
and Jane Allen's. I think we ought to make a fuss about having her here
at the Hall. If we could get most of the girls to sign a petition asking
Mrs. Weatherbee to take it up it would be a good thing."
"But would she do it?" was Maizie's skeptical query.
"She might if we worked it cleverly," answered Marian. "Adrienne and her
crowd would probably go to President Blakesly. We'd have to work it in
such a way that Norma wouldn't let her. This Bennett girl is one of the
sensitive sort. False pride, you know. Beggars are usually like that.
Of course, I don't say positively that we can do it. We'll have to wait
and see. Some good chance may come."
"It would be a splendid way to get even with Jane Allen and Adrienne
Dupree, too," approved Maizie. "They would have spasms if their darling
Norma had to leave Madison Hall and they couldn't help themselves."
"I think it would be rather hard on this Norma," declared Elsie bluntly.
She had pricked up her ears at the word "actress." Unbeknown to anyone
save herself she was desperately stage struck. The idea of having a real
actress at the Hall was decidedly alluring.
"You don't know what you're talking about," angrily rebuked Marian.
"It's hard on the girls of really good families to have to countenance
such a person. I've lived at Madison Hall a year longer than you have.
Just remember that."
"What we ought to do is to get as many girls as we can on our side,"
suggested crafty Maizie. "There are forty-eight girls at the Hall, most
of them sophs. Last year we let them alone, because they weren't of our
class. This year we'll have to make a fuss over them. Lunch them and
take them to ride in our cars and all that. It will be a bore, but it
will pay in the end. Once we get a stand-in with them, we can run things
here to suit ourselves."
"That's a good idea," lauded Marian. "We'll begin this very day."
So it was that while Jane Allen and her little coterie of loyal friends
entered upon their college year with high aspirations to do well, under
the same roof with them, three girls sat and plotted to overthrow
Wellington's most sacred tradition: "And this is my command unto you
that ye love one another."