The result of Lucy's strong plea for an official meeting of the Five
Travelers was a gathering, in hers and Ronny's room, on the next
evening. As all had agreed to prepare for tomorrow's recitations first,
it was nine o'clock when they assembled to hear what Lucy had to say.
What Marjorie said, however, the next moment after Ronny had turned the
key in the door was: "Girls, I'd like to have Ronny take charge of this
meeting. While there are only a handful of us, someone ought to be at
the head."
Veronica demurred vigorously. She was overruled and found herself
mistress of ceremonies whether she would or no.
"Very well," she at last accepted, "I will do the best I can to be an
illustrious head to this noble organization. To begin with, I will say
that I admire Lucy's policy. What we report here weekly is official. If
we merely talked it over in our rooms it would sometimes seem like
gossiping, even though we did not intend it to be such. I don't know
that I have anything special to tell. I will say this: Much as I like
Wayland Hall and Miss Remson, I do not like the atmosphere of it. It is
a house quietly divided against itself. There is no unity here of the
better element of girls. There ought to be. I am ready to say how such
unity might be brought about. I am not sure that I wish to make it my
business. I am not sure that it would come under the head of being a
Lookout. As the Five Travelers we have made no pledges, thus far," she
concluded with her strange, flickering smile.
"While I was anxious to carry out the plan we made on the train about
the Five Travelers, what I have to tell you really comes under the head
of being a Lookout." Lucy paused and glanced around the uneven
semi-circle into which the girls had drawn their chairs. "Someone I know
is in great need of help, or rather protection, and that is Miss
Langly."
"In need of protection," repeated Muriel Harding in a surprised tone.
"What awful calamity hangs over that quiet little mouse's head?" The
other three girls also looked in mild amazement. Katherine Langly, a
quiet little sophomore, was the one acquaintance Lucy had made by
herself.
"It is those hateful sophomores from whom she needs protection,"
explained Lucy, smiling faintly at Muriel's question. "They torment her
in all sorts of sly ways. I mean the ones Jerry named 'our crowd.' They
wish her to leave the Hall as a friend of theirs, a freshman, is trying
to get in here. You see she won a Hamilton scholarship. I mean one
offered by Hamilton College. She tried special examinations made up by
the Hamilton faculty of years ago. Her papers were considered so nearly
perfect that she was awarded the special scholarship which no one had
won for twenty years. It covers every expense. Mr. Brooke Hamilton
founded it and laid aside a sum of money for it. It is still in bank. So
few have won this scholarship, the money has accumulated until it is now
a very large sum."
"How interesting!" the four listeners exclaimed in the same breath.
"Truly, I shall never rest until I have dug up a lot of Mr. Brooke
Hamilton's history," asserted Marjorie. "He was almost as interesting as
Benjamin Franklin, who was the most interesting person I ever heard of.
Pardon me, Lucy. I am the one who is off the subject tonight."
"What does 'our crowd' do in the way of ragging Miss Langly?" demanded
Jerry, bristling into sudden belligerence. "They make me weary! The idea
of insulting a girl who has more mind in a minute than the whole bunch
will have in a century."
"They never speak to her, although this is her second year at the Hall.
You see, the scholarship mentions a certain room in each of four campus
houses which the winner may have the use of. She cannot share it with
anyone. The terms state that a young woman brilliant enough to win the
scholarship has the right to exclusive privacy."
"Wasn't that dear in Brooke Hamilton?" Ronny cried out involuntarily. "I
adore the memory of that fine gentleman. I shall certainly join you in
the history-digging job, Marjorie."
"Now let Brooke Hamilton rest," ordered Jerry. "I am the only one of you
who really has a mind to the subject."
"Give me credit," emphasized Muriel. "I haven't said a word. I've
listened hard. What else do these millionaires do, Lucy?" Muriel wagged
her head proudly at Jerry to show the latter how closely she had been
paying attention.
"Oh, they make remarks about her clothes and snub her dreadfully at
table. She sits at the same table as that Miss Cairns and Miss Vale.
They take turns staring steadily at her, sometimes, until they make her
so nervous she can scarcely eat. She said it wasn't so bad last year for
she sat at a table with Miss Harper and Miss Sherman. Besides, these
girls weren't trying to get her room. It has been worse this year. One
day last week Miss Myers, she is a ringleader among them, stopped her in
the hall and asked her if she would not be willing to trade rooms with
Miss Elster, the freshman they are working to get into the Hall. Miss
Langly explained that, on account of her scholarship, she had no choice
in the matter. She was angry, and she also said that if she were free to
make the exchange she would not do it. Then she walked away. That
evening Miss Myers reported her to Miss Remson for burning her lights
late, walking noisily about her room and slamming her door after the
ten-thirty bell had rung."
"Why, that is simply outrageous!" cried Marjorie, her brown eyes
sparkling with indignation. "Surely, Miss Remson did not credit it."
"No; she told Miss Langly to pay no attention to it. She called her
privately into her office and told her about the report soon after it
had been made. She said that she had simply informed Miss Myers that the
person who slammed her door so frequently and late was Miss Weyman, not
Miss Langly. That if Miss Langly burned her lights after the bell had
rung it was because she had had permission to do so. That if a number of
the other young women at the Hall would pattern after Miss Langly, it
would save her an infinite amount of trouble."
"Good for Busy Buzzy," cheered Jerry, standing up and waving her arms.
"Less noise or some one will report us," warned Ronny laughingly. "These
millionairesses will be out for our scalps when they know us a little
better. I think the whole thing is shameful. It is just the way the
girls at Miss Trevelyn's used to be. Only there were no poor girls
there. They used to act spitefully to one another. Of course Miss Langly
knows that you have told us this, Lucy?"
"Yes; I asked her if she cared if you girls knew it. I said I was sure
you would fight for her. She said she did not wish you to do so, but she
did not care if I told you. She supposed almost every one at the Hall
knew it.
"There isn't much we can do at first," said Marjorie thoughtfully. Every
pair of eyes were turned on her sweet face as she began speaking. "Our
best plan is the old way we have always done; take her under our wing.
There is room at our table for another plate. I will ask Miss Remson to
make that change. That will help a good deal. The rest of the time she
can keep out of those girls' way."
"We ought to do a little press-agenting. I mean, tell everybody how
brilliant Miss Langly is and about the scholarship," was Muriel's
inspiration. "We'll start the Silverton Hall crowd to eulogizing her. If
these bullies find most of the college admires her, they will be a
little more careful. They aren't crazy to take a back seat. They love to
be popular and have the mob follow them about."
"Lucy, you must tell Miss Langly to be sure and attend the reception.
She owes it to herself to be there." This from Ronny, in decided tones.
"She said she would like to invite me," Lucy colored with shy
embarrassment, "but she was afraid we would not be well-treated. So many
of those girls are sophomores. She thinks they will run the reception."
"You tell _her_ to go ahead and invite you," commanded Jerry. "We'll be
there to stand behind you. We may not have a special escort. If not, we
can go in a bunch. Has she a family, or is she an orphan, or what about
her?"
"She's an orphan. She worked her way through high school. She lived with
an old lady and worked for her board. She has had a very sad life."
"I am proud to know her," Ronny said simply. "If I had known her long
ago I would have helped her."
"We will make her our close friend and see what happens," planned
Marjorie. "If the Sans Soucians choose to become offended with us on
that account, we shall understand better how to deal with them. It may
be as well to let them know our principles. They will then set us down
as prigs and leave us alone."
This sentiment having been approved, Ronny inquired if there was
anything else to be reported by anyone present. Nothing of an adverse
nature happened to the Lookouts since the evening of their arrival,
neither had anything especially pleasant occurred which they had not
shared. The official confidence session was therefore closed until the
next week, and the girls fell to discussing the coming dance and what
they intended to wear. None of them except Lucy were likely to have a
special escort, was the modest opinion.
Two days after their private conclave, the date of the dance was
announced on all the bulletin boards. All freshmen were earnestly urged
to be present. Followed the happiness of special invitation for all of
the Lookouts. Helen Trent invited Jerry. Leila Harper invited Marjorie,
greatly to the latter's amazement. Vera Mason requested the pleasure of
becoming Ronny's escort. As for Muriel, she held her breath when stolid
Miss Barlow made offer to become her escort on the eventful night.
Muriel accepted ceremoniously and escaped from the room immediately
after being invited for fear of disgracing herself by laughing. Later,
Nella Sherman invited her, but Muriel had to decline, with some regret,
in favor of her odd room-mate.
The dance was to take place in the gymnasium on Thursday evening one
week after the first announcement had been made. For three afternoons
and evenings before the festivity, the majority of the sophomores were
to be found in the gymnasium, following classes, industriously engaged
in beautifying the spacious room for the affair. It may be said that the
Sans Soucians were strictly on the scene. In fact, they endeavored to
take charge. As they contributed a wealth of decorative material in the
way of small velvet rugs, expensive satin and velvet cushions and velour
draperies, they appeared to consider themselves of vital importance to
the affair.
The laborious part of the decorating, however, they took good care to
portion out to the sophomores outside their own intimate circle. Joan
Myers, as president of the sophomore class, had called a special meeting
and appointed a special committee on decorations for the dance. This
committee comprised Leila Harper, Helen Trent, Nella Sherman, Vera
Mason, Hortense Barlow, Martha Merrick and Selma Sanbourne. The Sans
Soucians were generous in the extreme in contributing luxurious effects,
but they were niggardly in offering to help with the hard work attending
the disposal of them. They lounged about the gymnasium and criticized
freely, but they did very little actual labor.
The odd part was to see the stolidity of the hard-working committee, as
assisted by the willing element among the sophomores, they toiled on,
paying scarcely more attention to their indolent classmates than if they
had been a few ubiquitous flies. On the first afternoon of the three
preceding the hop, the committee hired a light wagon and went to the
Hamilton Forest, a piece of woods situated about two miles south of the
college. They returned at dusk laden with the fragrant spoils of the
woods. On the second afternoon and evening the work of transforming the
gymnasium into an autumn bower was skilfully performed. A creditable
number of juniors and seniors did diligent service on this hard detail.
On the third afternoon they arranged the cushions, draperies, chairs and
like effects. Fortunately for them the Sans were absent. They were
bending their valuable energies toward beautifying themselves for the
evening.
The Sans Soucians numbered eighteen sophomores, but their sympathizers
numbered as many more. In a class of ninety-two, at least twenty took
small interest in class matters. This left a trifle less than half of
the class to uphold democracy. As freshmen, the nobler element of girls
had made some effort to stem the rising tide of snobbishness in their
class. Utterly disgusted, they had at length, quietly withdrawn from
association with an unworthy enemy. Now at the beginning of their
sophomore year, indications marked no change for the better.
"Well, sophies, the job is done, and be-utifully done!" sang out Leila
Harper. Unfastening the voluminous blue bungalow apron she had worn
while at work, she whipped it off and stood surveying her scratched and
dusty hands.
"The whole thing is a positive dream!" admired Vera Mason, clasping her
small hands. "I can't help saying the gym looks much finer than last
year."
"You may say it. Don't let the junies hear you." Leila's voice carried
the peculiar inflection that marks the Celt the world over. "It remains
to be seen who will claim the credit," she added with a touch of satire.
"Never mind, wait until the evening is over. There will be a grand
surprise for some folks." She laughed softly, in anticipatory enjoyment
of the surprise she was predicting. "I must hurry along. Remember, I am
to escort Beauty to the hop."
"Do try to be on time, Leila," counseled Selma Sanbourne. "You're always
late, you know."
"That I am, Swede," retorted Leila, in good-humored agreement.
While Vera Mason rejoiced in the nickname "Midget," Selma, being a
Scandinavian, had received that of "Swede." She occasionally retaliated
by calling Leila "Ireland," the latter having been the one to apply the
two aforesaid nicknames to her chums.
"Don't be disappointed if I'm not the first one here," warned Leila.
Rolling up the apron and tucking it under one arm, she prepared to
depart.
"That means Leila is going to walk in at the last minute with our
rosebud girl on her arm," Martha Merrick declared. "Honestly, mates,
it's going to be so funny, if all works out as it should. It will be the
first definite blow we have attempted to strike. After the way Natalie
Weyman behaved on the day she volunteered to meet that Sanford crowd,
she _needs_ a lesson."
"What possessed her, do you suppose?" Nella Sherman asked. "As nearly as
I can remember, she insisted upon going to the train to meet them. Then
she missed them, although she had plenty of time to reach the station
before their train arrived. Afterward, she went to one of their rooms, I
don't know which, to apologize for her non-appearance. Result, they had
their dinner at Baretti's."
"What do you mean, Nella?" Martha Merrick looked nonplussed. "I don't
see the connection between your last two remarks."
"I'll enlighten you. You are the one who told me that our five Sanford
freshmen asked you to direct them to Baretti's that night. It was after
six o'clock when they arrived at the Hall. Naturally it took them time
to scrub and generally freshen after an all day's ride on the train.
What did Natalie Weyman do but decide to make them an apology call
precisely at the time when they should have gone down to dinner. Miss
Cairns and Dulcie Vale were with her. They stayed until after the dining
room had closed. We didn't find this out, all in a minute, Martha. It
took Leila, Midget, Selma and I to piece it together. You helped by
remarking to us about you and Rosalind meeting them."
"Yes, and since then Natalie Weyman hardly speaks to those girls," added
Selma.
"There is only one explanation for such contemptible conduct," Martha
said scornfully, "and you know it as well as I. This is the first I have
heard of Natalie's call. Last year she was quite friendly with me until
I said to her that I thought it was ill-bred to base social values on
money. She cut me after that. I was not sorry."
"She is very malicious and if she had known those five girls beforehand
I would say that she had an object in playing dog in the manger about
meeting them and keeping them from their dinner afterward," Leila Harper
said. "As it happens, they knew no one here. They are thoroughbred to
the bone. Not one word have they ever said to anyone of that night."
"It was a case of selfishness and lack of consideration, I imagine,"
surmised Vera Mason. "I mean, on Miss Weyman's part."
"Whatever prompted such inconsideration, I am sick of it," was Leila's
vehement utterance. "Why should the fine traditions of this college be
trodden under by such vandals? That's precisely what they are. We should
have gone to the train to meet those girls. When it was distinctly given
out that Natalie Weyman intended to go, what was our conclusion? That
they belonged to her circle. I made acquaintance very warily with them,
on that account. They dress as well as any of the Sans ever dreamed of
dressing. Miss Warner dresses more plainly, but her gowns are pleasing.
They may be the daughters of millionaires, for all we know, but they are
not snobs. Have you noticed the way they have taken up nice little Miss
Langly? She has actually been abused by the Sans. Why? They were
determined to make her give up her room to that obnoxious little
freshie, Miss Elster. I despise the ultra-sophisticated type of girl she
is. She boasts that she rides to hounds, enters dachshunds at bench
shows, plays billiards and so on. She swaggers about like a detestable
young man instead of a young girl."
"Really, Leila, you are certainly a successful information gleaner,"
Nella regarded her room-mate with an amused smile. "You know how to keep
it to yourself, too. I hadn't heard that Miss Langly had been abused by
the Sans, or, that a freshman who rode to hounds was conspiring with the
Sans to snatch her room."
"You've heard now," returned Leila, the twinkle in her eye evident.
"After tonight, oh, how many things we shall be hearing! After the ball
is over we shall be at one, I hope, with the Sanford five. If so, then
the crowd of us ought to be able to work together for a more congenial
condition of affairs at the Hall. The Sans are trying hard to run it and
overrun us. They make it hard for Miss Remson, and it is a shame. If
enough of us stand together for our rights, they will have to respect
them. They won't like us, but, then, do we admire them?"
"If things turn out tonight as we have planned, the Sans will be raving.
Do you think it is perfectly fair to Miss Dean, Leila?" Vera's tones
carried a slight anxiety.
"Yes, I do, Midget," came the instant reply. "She won't like it,
perhaps. Still it can't do anything more than make her unpopular with
the Sans. She is that, already, as I happen to know. If she is the girl
I think her, she will simply pay no attention to them. Set your mind
easy. We are doing her a service."