A RANK OUTSIDER
“What a clumsy creature you are!” The fallen gallant scrambled up from
the floor and delivered the opinion in a feminine voice. It was shrill
and wrathful. It rose in its shrillness above the rhythmic melody of the
orchestra. “It’s both inconsiderate and dangerous in you to carry such a
large umbrella onto the floor. Your face and your behavior go nicely
together.”
“Beg your pardon for upsetting you, but keep your opinion to yourself.”
Leslie began the reply with forced politeness, but ended her words
almost in a hiss. Behind her simpering mask she was a dark fury. “I
never allow anyone to speak in that tone to me.”
“How do you propose to prevent my saying what I please?” came back
tauntingly from the belligerent swain. His partner, a slender, graceful
figure in a pale yellow gingham gown placed a gently arresting hand on
her angry gallant’s arm. It was shaken off with instant hateful
impatience.
“I don’t propose to do that. Nothing short of a clamp could keep you
from shrieking.” Leslie had changed in a twinkling to rude insolence.
“I’ll have mercy on my ear drums and beat it.”
“Wha-a-t?” The angry swain’s voice had suddenly changed key. It had
lowered in a mixture of amazed, disapproving conviction.
The utterance of that one amazed word acted upon Leslie like a sudden
dash of cold water. She wheeled and swaggered on down the room with an
air of elaborate unconcern. It was entirely make-believe. Her heart was
thumping with dismay. She had spoken after having vowed within herself
that whatever might happen at the romp she would remain mute. More, she
was afraid she had been recognized by the student whom she had
unwittingly tripped up with her umbrella. Something in those higher
pitched tones had sounded familiar. She could not then remember,
however, of whom they reminded her.
She had turned away from the quarrel just in time. Attracted by the
commotion at that part of the gymnasium more than one pair of dancers
had steered toward the accident center. Some of these now headed Leslie
off in her perturbed journey down the room. They collected about her
with mischievous intent, hemming her in and calling out to her.
“Such a pretty boy!” “Hello, April smiles!” “Wait a minute,
puddeny-woodeny!” “I’m crazy about you!” were some of the pleasantries
hurled at her. Under other circumstances Leslie would have laughed at
the extravagances. Now she was growing worried for her own security from
identification. She was now in precisely the situation against which
Doris had warned her. Suppose the call to unmask were to come just then?
She resolved desperately that, unheeding it, she would bolt for the
door.
Meanwhile the tripped-up rustic was sputtering to his dainty partner in
a manner which indicated trouble to come for Leslie.
“I wouldn’t stand such insolence from another student, much less from an
intruder,” Julia Peyton was saying wrathfully. “I wouldn’t—”
“Try to forget the matter, Miss Peyton,” urged a soft voice.
“I shan’t. Who are you, and how do you happen to know me?” demanded
Julia rudely. “_You_ don’t know who that mask is. I _do_. She has no
invitation or right to be here tonight. It’s against all Hamilton
tradition. Doris Monroe is to blame for this outrage. She has helped
that horrid Miss Ca—”
“I am Miss Dean, Miss Peyton,” came the interruption, low, but vibrating
with sternness. “You will please not mention the name you were going to
say.”
“I’ll do as I please about that. I’ll do more. I’ll expose that Miss
Cairns before she has a chance to leave here. I know who’s to blow the
whistle for unmasking. She is a sophie friend of mine. I’ll ask her to
blow it now. Then we’ll see what Miss Cairns will do.”
Before Marjorie could stop her she had started up the room on a hunt for
the sophomore who had been detailed to blow the unmasking whistle. A
dismayed glance after Julia, then Marjorie followed her. There was but
one thing she could do. She must follow Julia and discover to which
sophomore had been intrusted the signal detail. Each class had been
given a certain amount of the details for the romp. Among sophomore
details was the sounding of the unmasking signal.
Unaware that she was being followed by Marjorie, Julia had gone on a
tour of the room, searching this way and that, with spiteful eagerness.
She now had a stronger motive for exposing Leslie than the latter’s
offense against tradition. She was determined to be even with Doris for
having “almost” snubbed her on numerous occasions. It would not reflect
to Doris’s credit to be named as the student who had smuggled into the
gym a girl who had been expelled from Hamilton.
The sophomore who was to blow the whistle was Jane Everest. Dressed in a
befrilled frock of apricot dotted swiss, Jane formed a bright spot of
color among the pale blues and pinks which was easily picked out. Julia
had little trouble locating her. Marjorie, now not more than three yards
behind Julia, reached the pair almost as soon as Julia hailed Jane. The
two had met before that evening. Each knew the other’s costume.
“Who do you think is here tonight?” Julia caught Jane’s arm. This time
she took the precaution of whispering to her. “Leslie Cairns,” she
answered before Jane could speak. “_Isn’t that outrageous._ I want _you_
to blow the whistle this instant. She’s down there in the middle of a
crowd. She won’t be able to get free of it. She _must_ be exposed Jane.
It’s necessary to the interest of the whole college that she should be
sternly dealt with. Imagine her sneaking in here under the cover of a
mask.”
“Why—That _is_ really dreadful, Julia,” Jane whispered back. “Are you
sure? Some of the freshies don’t want the whistle blown until ten
o’clock. The committee says it had better be after the next dance. I
ought to do as they wish, you know. Where is she?”
“Down there.” Julia nodded sulkily toward a group of enjoying wags at
the far end of the gymnasium. Those who composed it were finding more
sport in teasing Leslie than in dancing.
Marjorie was waiting until Julia should have finished whispering to the
apricot mask before soliciting the latter’s attention. She was uneasily
watching the fun going on around Leslie. She could not be sure that the
mask to whom Julia was whispering was the one to blow the unmasking
whistle. For all she knew Julia might have stopped to cite her grievance
to one of her particular friends.
“Is she that ridiculous, silly-faced mask?” Jane cried. “_She’s_ awfully
droll.”
“I fail to see it.” Julia was haughtily contradictory. “Will you please
blow the whistle now, Jane? You know she shouldn’t be here.”
“Please pardon me, I must speak to you.” Marjorie had made up her mind
to act. If the apricot mask were the soph detailed to blow the whistle,
then she must be asked to delay blowing it until Leslie could be steered
from the gym without discovery. If she were not the one appointed
Marjorie decided that she would hurry down to Leslie and inform her of
the danger.
“You have no—” Julia began angrily.
“I am Miss Dean,” ignoring Julia, Marjorie serenely continued. “Will you
please tell me who you are?”
“Yours truly, Jane Everest, Marjorie.” A little laugh rippled out from
behind the concealing mask.
“Oh, Jane!” There was inexpressible relief in the exclamation. “I’m so
glad it’s you. Are you the soph who is to blow the unmasking whistle? If
you are, don’t blow it for at least ten minutes yet.”
“I insist that Miss Everest shall blow it, and at once,” burst forth
Julia Peyton furiously. “She has just promised _me_ that she will.”
“No, I haven’t promised to blow the whistle at once, Julia,” Jane
steadily corrected.
“What right have _you_ to interfere in our fun? Post graduates are not
supposed to interest themselves too closely in class affairs.” Julia
tossed her head in withering disdain of Marjorie. “What right have _you_
to prevent _me_ from exposing that detestable Miss Cairns. Do you
consider it honorable or fair to the traditions of Hamilton to permit a
former student who was expelled to come on the campus socially?”
“How do you know, Miss Peyton, that Miss Cairns, a former student of
Hamilton, is present in the gymnasium, or has been here this evening?”
Marjorie inquired with a cool evenness that made Julia gasp. “Have you
seen her?”
“I _know_, and so do you. Didn’t she trip us with her umbrella? Didn’t
we hear her voice. _I_ recognized it. _You_ may not have.” The answer
was freighted with sarcasm.
“A masker carrying an umbrella tripped us. When she spoke her voice
sounded like that of Miss Cairns,” Marjorie stated impersonally. “I did
not see the masker’s face. Did you?”
“What difference does _that_ make?” sharply countered Julia. “We both
recognized her by her voice.”
“Since we did not see her face how can we be sure that we recognized
her. Lacking the evidence of our own eyes our best plan is to launch no
accusations against Miss Cairns. Jane,” Marjorie turned to the
sophomore, “when are you going to blow the unmasking whistle?”
“After the next dance. This dance is ending now, I think.” Jane turned
momentary attention to the music, which was beating to a syncopated end.
“That is the time the floor committee has set. I can change it if you
like, Marjorie.”
“No, thank you. That suits me nicely. I must go now, but I’ll see you
soon after unmasking, Jane.” With a slight, courteous inclination of the
head to Miss Peyton, Marjorie walked composedly down the great room to
where Leslie stood, still surrounded.
Marjorie had not spoken to Leslie Cairns more than two or three times
during the long period of time in which they had been students together
at Hamilton. She had never spoken to Leslie since Leslie had been away
from the college. She now wondered what she could say to the uninvited
masker which might not be too humiliating to her.
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