"Hamilton, did you say? Lead me to it." Jerry Macy opened her eyes and
peered through the car window with revived interest. For an hour or more
she had been leaning back against the high green plush car seat dozing
lightly. It was now five o'clock in the afternoon and active Jerry was
feeling the strain of sitting still, hour after hour.
"No; I didn't say Hamilton." Muriel gently tweaked Jerry's ear. "Wake
up, sleepy head. That station we just passed was Harcourt Hill. What
comes next?" Muriel opened a time table and frowningly perused it. "It's
hard to remember the names of these little stations. Now where was I at?
Oh, yes; Harcourt Hill. Next comes Palmer; then Tresholme. After that,
West Hamilton, and then Hamilton. Hamilton is the first stop this
express makes, thank goodness!"
"Muriel, you have really been invaluable to us on this journey. Allow me
to decorate you." Ronny leaned forward and pinned a huge lace-paper
rosette on the obliging Lookout. "Wear this for my sake."
While Muriel had been industriously engaged in calling out the stations,
Ronny had hastily ripped a piece of decorative lace-paper from a half
emptied box of candied fruit, which the travelers had shared, and busied
herself with it. The result of her effort she now generously tendered
Muriel.
"I will--not." Muriel intercepted the rosette before it found a place on
the lapel of her brown taffeta traveling coat and crumpled it in her
hand. "No such decorations for me when I'm so near Hamilton. Suppose I
forgot about it and wore it off the train. Some college wag would be
sure to see it and post me in the grind book. Freshmen are good material
for grinds. Remember that and keep your old rosettes out of sight."
"What would be written about you?" asked Lucy Warner curiously. "I can't
see anything in that to write about."
"Don't think for a minute that enough couldn't be found in one foolish
old paper rosette to make me feel silly for a half term, at least. I
don't know what the method of teasing me would be. I do know that I am
not going to give strange students a chance to try it."
"Then I shall hardly dare answer anyone, even if I am first addressed."
Lucy fixed her green eyes on Muriel with an expression of alarm.
Muriel burst out laughing as she met the steady stare. She had never
taken prim Lucy seriously. Lucy's austere solemnity always had an
hilarious effect on keen-witted Muriel. Coupled with a direct stare from
those peculiar greenish eyes, Muriel invariably felt a strong desire to
laugh when in her presence. As a result, there was no strain between the
two, as was the case with the majority of the Lookouts and Lucy.
"You had better be very, _very_ careful," warned Muriel with simulated
cautiousness.
"I intend to be. I may not even speak to you, once I am on the campus,"
was the retort.
"Oh, it will be safe to speak to me," Muriel assured. "You may even
speak to others when you are spoken to and be safe. You are not strictly
of the information-bureau type. Don't worry about being afraid of the
Hamiltonites. They will probably stand in awe of you."
"What is all this advice you are giving Lucy?" From across the aisle
Marjorie leaned toward the quartette in the double seat. "Since it was
my turn to be exiled across the aisle, I've lost a lot of pearls of
speech."
As only four could occupy the double seat, the five girls had arranged
on entraining, to take turns sitting in the seat opposite their own.
This was somewhat lonely for the fifth member of the party. The
exclusive isolation of the chair car had not found favor with them. They
preferred the more democratic day coach where they could be together.
While Marjorie could catch little of Muriel's remarks to Lucy, she knew
by the half-amused smile on Lucy's face that she was being chaffed and
enjoying it.
"Oh, I am simply reassuring Lucy. Now that we are almost in sight of our
Mecca, she is beginning to be scared."
"A nice kind of reassurance," scoffed Lucy. "She just finished telling
me the grind hunters would lie in wait for me and to look out for them."
"We'll protect you, Lucy," promised Marjorie lightly. "When we leave the
train we will walk two on each side of you. Then you will be safe
from----"
"Stretch-your-necks, wags and grind hunters," supplied Jerry, now
sufficiently aroused to join in the conversation.
"Something like that. So glad to have you with us again, Jeremiah. We
must have bored you terribly or you wouldn't have gone to sleep."
Marjorie had adopted Muriel's methods.
"Oh, I can't say I was bored more than usual," drawled Jerry, with a
languid wave of her hand. "You are all about the same as ever. No relief
in sight before next June. I must do the best I can. In the words of
good old Proffy Fontaine: 'No wan can do mo-rr-rr!'" Jerry's imitation
of the sorely-tried French professor evoked a chorus of reminiscent
giggles.
"Much obliged for your high opinion of our society," said Veronica. "All
we can do is to trail around after you, hopeful that someday you will
discover how brilliant we really are."
"You may hope," graciously permitted Jerry. "If I discover signs of
brilliancy sprouting in any of you, I'll let you know instantly. I won't
keep the precious knowledge to myself. There's nothing stingy about me."
"Thank you, thank you," was the united, grateful answer, ending in a
burst of low-toned laughter which caused several older persons to smile
indulgently upon the bevy of merry-faced girls.
Nine o'clock that morning had seen the five travelers to Hamilton
playing their parts at the Sanford station, surrounded by their families
and a number of devoted friends. It was not a large crowd that had
gathered at the nine-twenty train, but it was a loyal one.
Marjorie had felt very sad and solemn during that last brief wait for
the train which was to bear her from home and her own. When it had
arrived she had made brave farewells to her captain and general. She had
fought hard to keep a smile on her face. Complete control of her
emotions returned from a sudden mishap to Jerry. An unexpected jarring
of the train threw Jerry off her balance as she was about to deposit a
traveling bag in the rack above her head. With a forward lurch, she
described a wavering semi-circle in the air with the bag. Banging it
down on Muriel's lap, she sprawled helplessly between Muriel and
Veronica.
Her timely spill turned the tide of mourning into mirth. Marjorie forgot
her sadness, for the time being, in listening with laughter to Jerry's
scathing remarks on the subject of trains.
Now, after the greater part of the day spent on the cars, the somewhat
tired Lookouts were nearing their journey's end. Fifteen minutes and the
town of Hamilton would be reached. Marjorie was wondering, as she idly
glimpsed the passing scenery from the car window, if there were many
other Hamilton-bound girls on the train. There were only one or two
young girls besides her party in the car they were occupying.
"West Hamilton, children," announced Muriel oracularly. "Observe, if you
please, the charming beauty of this little burg." She took on the tone
of a hired guide. "One of the most picturesque spots in the United
States. We will pretend it is, anyway."
"Nothing like having a vivid imagination," murmured Ronny.
"Quite true Miss Lynne," beamed Muriel. "So glad you appreciate my
abilities. You are so different in that respect from some girls." She
fixed a significant eye upon Jerry, who merely grinned lazily. "Before I
go further in expiating on the scenery of this place, one quarter,
please, all around. You pay me another quarter after you've seen the
town. Just recall that it takes breath and patience to be a successful
guide."
"Yes, I guess so," scoffed Jerry. "Kindly tell me where you get the word
_guide_ as applying to you. A guide is one who guides. All your guiding
is done in your mind. I wouldn't pay ten cents to see this town at
present. I can see it later for nothing. On to Hamilton! That's my
watchword."
"I couldn't see much of it, guide or no guide," remarked Lucy. "The
train went so fast, I'm amazed that Muriel could see it well enough to
describe the scenery."
"That's something we will let Guide Muriel explain before she collects
any of our precious quarters," decreed Jerry.
"I'll do no explaining, and don't you call me Guide Muriel. Start that
and it will stick to me. I can't shake it off as I did that old rosette.
I see that you and Ronny are determined to make trouble for me. I think
I had better keep very quiet from now on."
"Just think what a restful time we might all have had if you had only
decided to do that an hour or two earlier," declared Jerry regretfully.
"As it is, we are so tired. I suppose you must be tired, too?" She
beamed questioningly on Muriel, who beamed on her in satirical return,
wholly unabashed.
"We are five weary travelers," said Veronica, "about to be dumped down
in the strange country of college."
"I like that idea," approved Lucy Warner, with the sudden crispness
which marked her speech. "I like to fancy us as five travelers in the
country of college. We might call ourselves that." Her eyes darkened
with the interest of her own suggestion. "I mean, just in private. There
is a certain touch of romance about it that pleases me."
"I like it, too, Lucy," commended Muriel. "I know something we could do
as the five travelers, too. Once a week we could meet in one another's
rooms, in the evening, and we could each tell how everything has been
for us during the week. Whatever happens, we could agree to keep
strictly to ourselves until then. That is, unless it were something that
had to be settled at once. In that way we would be certain to keep clear
of any silly misunderstandings among ourselves. Close friends that we
are, none of us is infallible, you know. We know we are not going to
quarrel, of course, but a misunderstanding is different. It crops up
when you least expect it."
"I'm filled with admiration for you, clever Muriel," praised Veronica.
"I wish you hadn't ruined that pretty rosette I made you. I would
decorate you all over again. Shall we become the United Order of the
Five Travelers? We shall. Our rooms will serve as a wayside inn where we
shall gather to tell our tales of joy, woe or adventure. Do tell
Marjorie about it. There she sits by her sweet little self, with no idea
of the great work going on under her very nose. Here, I'll tell her
myself."
Slipping past Muriel, Ronny crossed the aisle and touched Marjorie on
the shoulder. Unable to hear with comfort what was being said by her
chums, Marjorie had briefly leaned back in her chair and closed her
eyes. The excitement of the day was beginning to tell on her. She was
feeling dispirited. What a long time it had been since she had said
good-bye to Captain and General! And yet it was now only late afternoon
of the same day.
"Move over," genially ordered Ronny. "I've something to report,
Lieutenant, and only about five minutes to report it in. We are in sight
of the fateful town of Hamilton."
Marjorie obeyed the order, brightening visibly at Ronny's invasion. "I
saw you four with your heads together," she returned. "I knew something
was stirring."
"I beg to inform you that you are now a member of the United Order of
the Five Travelers," Ronny announced, dropping her arm over Marjorie's
shoulder. Rapidly she repeated what had been talked over across the
aisle. Marjorie listened in absorption. Her quick brain instantly
grasped the value of the project from its ethical side. It would be good
for all of them, she thought, to have these little confidence sessions.
It would be the very best thing in the world for Lucy.
"Hamilton! Hamil-lton-n-n!" The stentorian call echoed through the car.
Their interest centered on the new idea, both girls were startled by the
brakeman's loud tones.
"I must gather up my luggage." Ronny sprang up and hurriedly sought her
own seat with: "More later about the Five Travelers."
Marjorie nodded and began mechanically to gather up her own luggage. It
consisted of a suit case and a smart leather hand bag across the aisle.
The box of candied fruit, presented to her by Mr. La Salle, was going
the rounds for the last time. It had been mischievously started by
Muriel and smilingly declined by three canny freshmen.
"You don't catch me marching out of the train with my mouth full of
candy, looking as though I were about seven years old," was Jerry's
decided stand. "Go ahead. Eat some yourself, Muriel."
"I don't think it would be polite to eat all of Marjorie's candy,"
declined Muriel.
"The delicate consideration of that girl! Ahem! Here's your candy, Sweet
Marjoram." Reaching over, Jerry deposited it on Marjorie's seat. "Now
for a first timid look at Collegeburg!" As the train began to slow down
for a dead stop, Jerry peered curiously out of the car window.
From her own window, Marjorie was also casting her first glances at the
Hamilton station. Like the stations of exclusive suburban towns,
adjacent to large cities, this one had two separate station buildings;
one for outgoing and the other for incoming trains. The two connected by
a stone passage-way underneath, ascent or descent made possible by a
short flight of stone steps at each end of the passage.
As it happened, Marjorie had been sitting on the side of the car that
faced toward the outgoing trains. In consequence, her first impression
of Hamilton was a blank. She had expected to see groups of girls in
white and light-colored gowns walking up and down the platform. She had
looked forward to a scene of moving color and young life. Now all she
saw was a platform, empty save for an elderly man, who was leading a
little boy of perhaps five or six years along it. This surely was not
the Hamilton of her dreams.