A FRIENDLY TURN
Circling the group around Leslie she approached the latter from the left
side. Simultaneous with her approach the opening strains of a fox trot
broke up the group. Not more than half a dozen persistent “rushers”
lingered.
“Let’s move on,” she breathed to Leslie. She adopted a soft almost
babyish tone. As she spoke she took light hold of Leslie’s arm and began
to steer her gently free of the few masks who were mischievously trying
to detain the foolish-faced swain.
“Surest thing you know, sweetums,” Leslie returned in a deep gruff
voice. “You’re the little kid who fell over my amberil. I didn’t go for
to trip you up, peaches. Want to dance?”
“Not yet. Let’s go walking up the hall so folks can see your han’some
face.” Obeying an impish impulse Marjorie added, “It is simply
celostrous. It’s the only one you have, isn’t it?”
“By cricky, it is. I ought to be proud of it.” Leslie was oddly pleased
to have the partner of “that screech owl” single her out for friendly
attention. “I knowed you wasn’t mad at me, kid,” she next volunteered.
“No, I wasn’t.” The small soft voice held positiveness.
“That’s fine. I _know_ you’ve got a kind face.” Both girls indulged in a
smothered giggle at this inane tribute.
“Fade away,” Leslie waved a careless hand toward two or three lingering
tormentors. “Can’t you let me and my girl alone?” She brandished her
umbrella at them and swaggered out of their ken with Marjorie on an arm.
They looked after her, laughing, but did not pursue the pair. Leslie
thought it extremely lucky that she should have been singled out for
attention by “friendly ruffles.” She had no idea where in the big room
to look for Doris. She dared not linger to search for her. Her one
thought now was to gain the safety of outdoors before unmasking time
came.
Up the room the pair now strolled with an air of rustic gaiety. It was
simulated by both with difficulty. They kept fairly close to the west
wall of the gymnasium so as to be well out of the path of the dancers.
Neither appeared to be in a hurry. Both were battling against a strong
desire to break into a run.
They were nearing the door before a knowledge of what to say to Leslie
came to little “friendly ruffles.” Marjorie came into a sudden
understanding that Leslie was as anxious as she to reach the door. With
unspoken intent both had steered directly for it.
Lightly withdrawing her fingers from her escort’s arm Marjorie said in a
very low, distinct tone. “The unmasking will take place after this
dance. There will be a short intermission then. The girls will probably
go parading about the campus.”
“Who are you? Do you know me?” Leslie had instantly caught the hidden
inference. Her partner knew her to be an outsider.
“Does it matter who we are? I must go. Good night.” Followed the
gracious addition. “Your costume was much the funniest at the romp.”
In the second of silence which succeeded the compliment the two maskers
faced each other, Leslie across the threshold now, Marjorie still inside
the vestibule.
“Thank you, and double thank you,” Leslie said in an odd muffled voice.
“Good night.” She turned and started across the campus at a swinging
stride which might have belonged to a true country boy.
“Thank goodness,” breathed Marjorie. She watched the lonely figure fast
disappearing into the darkness and a feeling of pity rose in her heart
because Leslie could not remain at the romp and enjoy the fun of winning
the prize her ludicrous get-up merited.
It had taken longer than she thought to conduct Leslie to the door.
Marjorie decided it to be hardly worth while to renew her search for
Robin Page, whom thus far she had not been able to pick out among the
rustic throng. She had not more than re-entered the ball room when the
unmasking whistle blew shrilly. Its high, piercing blasts were
immediately drowned by waves of echoing laughter as masks were removed
and identities jubilantly made known.
Marjorie made a swift rush forward to meet an Irish country woman who
was jogging peacefully along, a small, covered, green and white basket
on her arm. She was dressed in a voluminous bright-figured brown
cretonne dress. Over her shoulders was a green and red plaid shawl, on
her head a white mob cap with a full white outstanding ruffle and a huge
green satin bow decorating the front of it. Wide flat black slippers,
green and red plaid hosiery which her ankle length dress permitted a
glimpse of and a bright green umbrella completed her gay attire.
“Now for the sake av ould Ireland, is it yerself I am finding forninst
me?” demanded the delighted Hibernian lady, offering Marjorie one end of
her umbrella to shake instead of her hand.
“Yes, it is certainly myself and no other. But _where_ have you been?
Not out on the floor. I never saw sign of you in that costume until this
minute. You tricky old Celt. You appeared late on purpose, _that’s_ what
you did,” Marjorie accused.
Leila smiled widely and cheerfully. “Now how can you blame me? Since I
am Irish then how could I appear in the gym in an Irish costume of my
own special fancy and not have the campus dwellers add two and two? So I
have had a fine, exciting time sitting up in my room twirling my Irish
thumbs until time for me to set out for the festival.”
“What a mean thing to do; to put your friends to so much needless
trouble. How long have you been on the floor?”
Leila looked thoughtful then beamed again: “Perhaps three minutes,” she
admitted. “I have not yet met a Traveler except you, Beauty. You are the
same beauty-bright colleen as ever. You would be that though dressed in
canvas bags.”
“You are direct from County Blarney,” Marjorie made a gesture of
unbelief. “Jerry and I picked out Muriel first thing. She is so funny. I
knew Ronny and Lucy, too, and Lillian. I’m sorry Kathie couldn’t be in
this. That’s the penalty she pays for being of the faculty. Let’s go
Traveler hunting, Leila.” She took Leila’s arm and the two strolled on
together further to investigate the many groups of mirthful, chattering
rustics who crowded the spacious room.
It was not long before Leila and Marjorie were the center of a group of
their own composed of Muriel, Vera, Lillian, Lucy, Barbara Severn, Ronny
and Jerry. Leila circulated among them, beaming affably. She announced
mysteriously that she had something nice to give each one.
“It’s a gift basket which I stole from a leprechaun and in it is a magic
charm for each and all. Be pleased to hold one hand behind your back
when I give out the charms. Shut your fingers tight down on the charm so
it can not vanish away. When I give the word you may look at them. Now
be fair and do not peep at them until I give you the word.”
With this glib injunction Leila slid a hand into the basket and drew it
out tightly closed about some small object. She ordered the company to
stand in a circle, each with a hand behind her back.
“What is it?” cried Muriel as her hand received and tightly clutched the
small smooth round object.
“Now you shall see how fond I am of you.” Leila had hurriedly given out
the rest of the charms. “You may all look.”
A chorus of derisive groans mingled with laughter followed the gracious
permission. Each Traveler had been presented with a small potato. Its
new pale skin had been scrubbed to immaculate cleanness.
“A charming charm, I must say,” giggled Muriel. “Let’s forcibly lead the
Celtic sorceress out on the campus and peg at her with these praties. If
she isn’t hit by any of them we shall know that they are either
bewitched or else we can’t throw straight.”
In the midst of the fun her friends were having over Leila’s charms,
remembrance of Leslie Cairns and her constrained flight from the scene
of fun returned to Marjorie. She had sufficient cause to regard Leslie
as an enemy, yet she did not hold her as such. Now she was feeling
nothing but a kind regret that Leslie had barred herself out of Hamilton
and all its pleasures. She decided that she would not tell even Jerry of
the incident. Common sense whispered to her that Doris Monroe must have
aided Leslie in the escapade. They had probably met on the campus and
gone to the gymnasium together. Marjorie knit her brows in an effort to
recall a dancing partner of Leslie’s. She herself had noticed and
repeatedly laughed at the foolish-faced farmer before the collision with
Leslie.
“What are you scowling about?” Jerry happened to note Marjorie’s
puckered brows. “Let me sweeten your disposition by treating you to
wintergreen lozenges and crimson lemonade.”
“I accept your generous offer. I hope you have money enough to treat
lavishly,” Marjorie accepted Jerry with this pertinent hint, after
having been affectionately jabbed in the side with Jerry’s elbow.
“I got cash,” Jerry boasted, thrusting her free hand into a pocket of
her overalls. “I still got some ’o my Fourthy July money. I didn’t spend
nothing that day hardly. It rained lickety whoop. Silas Pratt near got
swept off the speaker’s stand a deliverin’ his Fourthy July ration. I
heerd at the last the stand floated right off in the woods a carryin’
the Hamtown choir, Revern’d Skiggs and three boys as was sittn’ on the
bottom steps of it.”
Marjorie and Jerry headed gaily for the lemonade stand calling back
buoyant invitations to their friends to join them. As they drew near the
stand a girl turned away from it and glanced at them. She was
golden-haired and lovely in her white dimity frock scattered thickly
with violets. Neither Marjorie nor Jerry could do other than admire her
and her becoming costume. The trio did not exchange salutations.
Doris Monroe had not spoken to Jerry more than once or twice since
coming to Hamilton. She had not even bowed to Marjorie since her own
refusal to go to Sanford with Muriel on a Christmas vacation. Now she
stared at Marjorie’s costume, rather than at Marjorie herself, in
dismayed fascination. She had made a discovery which was anything but
pleasing to her.
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