To be ignored on one's arrival at Hamilton and in less than six weeks to
be acclaimed the college beauty seemed the very irony of fate to
Marjorie. The week following the freshman frolic was a hard one for her.
Used to going unostentatiously about with her chums, she now found
herself continually in the limelight. Whenever she appeared on the
campus she had the uncomfortable feeling that every movement of hers was
being watched.
"You may thank your stars that you are at college where the newspapers
aren't allowed to trespass," Ronny had laughingly assured her when she
complained. Nevertheless she was far from pleased when a prominent
illustrator wrote her a polite note asking permission to make sketches
of her. Worse still, she received later a letter from a New York
theatrical manager offering her an engagement in a musical comedy he was
about to launch. How either man had come into knowledge of her name she
could not imagine.
While she had been deeply annoyed at the artist's note, she grew angry
at the temerity of the theatrical manager and promptly tore the letter
into shreds. How she wished that she had never allowed herself to be
dragged into that foolish beauty contest. Afterward Leila had candidly
owned to Marjorie her part in the affair. While Marjorie had been
obliged to laugh at the Irish girl's clever move against the Sans, she
had wondered whether she really liked Leila. Instead of being pleased
over her triumph, she was distinctly put out about it.
"I never saw you so near to being really downright cross as you've been
since that old beauty contest," observed Jerry one afternoon in late
October, as Marjorie entered the room, a frown between her brows, a
tired droop to her pretty mouth.
"I _feel_ like being downright cross," emphasized Marjorie, accompanying
the last three words with three energetic slams of her book on chemistry
on the table. "I wish this popularity business were in Kamchatka. I
thought I would like to take a walk around the campus today, all by
myself, and think about what I would write this evening. I have to write
a theme for poetics to be handed in tomorrow morning. I wasn't allowed a
minute to myself. There are some awfully nice girls here, but I wasn't
anxious for company today. I haven't the least idea what I shall write
and I wanted to save time by choosing my subject this afternoon."
"Go and ask Ronny for a subject," calmly advised Jerry. "She loves
poems, poets and poetics in general. She is in her room writing to her
father. She fired me out, but you may have better luck. She may have
finished writing. It seems a long while since she inhospitably requested
me to make myself scarce. My, but you are sympathetic!" Marjorie was
already half way through the door, regardless of Jerry's plaint.
"Come in," called Ronny, in response to Marjorie's two measured raps.
"Oh, Marjorie, I was just coming to see you. I have a piece of news for
you."
"Come along," invited Marjorie, "but first give me a subject for a theme
for poetics. I need one in a hurry. Jerry said you were authority on the
subject."
"I am amazed at her charity," chuckled Ronny, "after the way I shooed
her away from my door."
"She mentioned it," returned Marjorie significantly, whereupon both
girls laughed.
"Let me see," pondered Ronny. "Why don't you write on the genius Poe as
above that of any other American poet? Illustrate by quoting from other
poets and then comparing the excerpts with his work. Read his essay on
poetry tonight before you begin to write. It will give you inspiration.
I brought a five volume set of Poe from home. Here's the volume
containing the essay you need."
Ronny took from a near-by book-case the desired volume and handed it to
Marjorie.
"Thank you." Marjorie accepted it gratefully. "I believe I _can_ write a
fairly good theme on that subject. I have always admired Poe's work."
"I adore his memory," asserted Veronica solemnly. "I have read every
scrap I could find concerning him. He ranked next to Shakespeare in
genius. I know he was an earnest worker and a good man. I am sure that
he was not a drunkard, but a terribly maligned genius. He was purposely
kept down through jealousy and had to sell the products of his genius
for a copper. He suffered terribly, but I imagine he had the inner
happiness of knowing that not one brilliant emanation of his master mind
could be snatched from him by the unworthy."
Veronica's gray eyes flashed in sympathy for the misunderstood man whose
transcendental genius made him an outlander among the writers of his
period.
"Again I thank you. This time for your lecture." Marjorie bobbed up and
down twice in quick succession. "I'll try to put some of it into my
theme. Now for my room, and the news."
Jerry pretended not to see Ronny until she was well inside the room. She
then rose up, and, in a purposely gruff voice, ordered her out. Needless
to say, Ronny was not to be intimidated.
"No, Jeremiah, I shall not budge an inch. Here you sit doing nothing.
Why shouldn't I come in and sit on Marjorie's side of the room? I have
news to impart--n-e-w-s," spelled Ronny.
At this Jerry pricked up her ears and became suddenly affable.
"I heard today," began Ronny impressively, "that there will be a basket
ball try-out next Friday afternoon in the gym, at four-thirty."
"That's cheering news!" Marjorie's sober features lightened. "Where did
you hear it, Ronny?"
"Miss Page told me. The notices will appear in a day or two. She played
on a team all the time she was at Wildreth, a prep school she was
graduated from. Naturally she is anxious to make the team this year."
"I'd like to play," Marjorie said wistfully. "I suppose I won't stand
much chance among so many, though."
"Well, you won the Beauty contest," cited Jerry wickedly. "That was a
case of one in a multitude."
Marjorie rose and going over to where Jerry sat, waved her book
menacingly over her room-mate's head. "Dare to say another word about
that hateful old contest and I'll disown you," she threatened. "I want
to forget all about it, if I can. Basket ball is different, thank
goodness. If I make the freshman team, I have actually achieved
something."
"I hope you make it." Jerry spoke with a sudden sincerity arising from
her devotion to Marjorie. "Muriel will try for it. Moretense is too
tense to make a startling player. Shall you try for it, Ronny?"
"No, indeed," Ronny answered. "You and Lucy and I will be fans. I am not
very partial to basket ball unless the game happens to move fast. Then I
grow interested. Miss Page says the seniors are managing the sports.
They usually do. A senior told her of the try-out."
"Did Miss Page say anything else about it?" quizzed Jerry.
"No; she heard only that. She said she thought the sports committee were
purposely keeping back the information. The senior who told her
overheard the two of the committee talking to Miss Reid, the physical
instructor. She happened to be in the gymnasium at the time. She was not
asked to keep it secret, so she felt at liberty to mention it to me."
Jerry regarded Ronny in silence for a moment. "This college makes me
weary," she burst out in an impatient voice. "There are too many
undercurrents here. Why should the sports committee keep back
information about basket ball? To suit their own pleasure, of course.
Very likely they are banded into a clique like those silly Sans
Soucians. If it happens to be the same kind of clique, then look out for
trouble at the try-out."
"Perhaps they have a good reason for not giving out the information
until a certain time," argued Ronny. "Maybe they don't approve of the
Sans. As seniors, they should be on the heights, so far as college
ethics are concerned."
"I trust they are," Jerry returned, in a prim voice, rolling her eyes at
Ronny. "Just the same, I doubt it. I'll tell you more about 'em after
the try-out. They'll have to show me."
It was on Monday that Ronny heard of the try-out. Not until Thursday
afternoon did the notices of it appear on the various bulletin boards.
Their advent led to a certain amount of jubilation on the part of those
freshmen who were fond of the game. When, at four-thirty, the next
afternoon, the committee appeared in company with Miss Reid, they found
at least thirty-five of the freshman class as aspirants to the team. A
part of the unaspiring members had come to look on. There was also a
large percentage of sophomores on the scene. Outside the committee there
was only a sprinkling of juniors and seniors.
Marjorie and Muriel had put on their gymnasium suits at the Hall and had
arrived at the gymnasium shortly after four o'clock. Jerry, Ronny and
Lucy did not appear until almost half-past four. They were accompanied
by Vera Mason, Nella Sherman and Leila Harper. In the meantime Marjorie
and Muriel had been watching, with some longing, a number of freshmen
who were out on the floor practicing with the ball. Prominent among them
was Lola Elster, who seemed to know the game, or thought she did, better
than her companion player. She was quite in her element, and was issuing
frequent orders, in a rather shrill voice, as she darted about in
pursuit of the ball. The "pick-up" squad with whom she was playing
appeared to be completely under her domination.
"I don't care to make a team that Miss Elster is on," Muriel confided to
Marjorie in a disgusted tone. "She is altogether too fond of her own
playing. Besides, she is inclined to be tricky and I wouldn't trust her.
She'd elbow her best friend out of the way if they were both after the
ball."
"Those girls seem to like her," commented Marjorie. "I should say none
of them were very good players. It is conceited, perhaps, to say that we
know the game better than they, but if that is a sample of their work,
we are stars compared with them. They couldn't make more than a scrub
team at Sanford High."
"I know it," agreed Muriel. "They aren't quick enough. That's their
greatest trouble." Glancing from the players to the audience, who stood
in groups about the room, she exclaimed: "There are the girls! Let's go
over and see them."
"Only for a minute," Marjorie stipulated. "This affair is going to begin
soon."
They had no more than exchanged a few words with their chums when the
bell rang for a clear floor. Incidental with it the senior manager of
basket ball interests stepped forward to make the usual announcements
for the try-out and lay down the conditions which the players must
observe. Those wishing to try for a place on the regular freshman team
were then requested to come forward on the floor. About thirty-five
girls responded and enough of them to make two squads were selected.
These were ordered to the floor for a twenty-minutes' test. Their work
was carefully noted by Miss Reid, three seniors, including the manager,
and a Mr. Fulton, a professional coach.
Altogether, four sets of players were tried out. Several of the freshmen
who had worked on the first squads did duty again. Among these was Lola
Elster. It was among the third round of players that Marjorie and Muriel
appeared, and only half-heartedly at that. Both felt the utter futility
of trying for the team, after they had looked on for a little. They did
not like the methods of either the coach or Miss Reid. Neither were
expert in proper knowledge of the game. Worse, their sympathies were
plainly with Miss Elster, who, when not on the floor, stood between
them, talking animatedly, now indicating one or another of the players,
or expressing an opinion to which both agreed by nodding affably.
Both Lookouts made a conscientious effort to play their best, but their
team-mates were fit only for scrub players. The result was the slowest
twenty-minutes' work that either ever remembered. Try as they might,
they could not overcome the disadvantage under which they were laboring.
Hardest of all was the knowledge that they could make a good showing if
they but had the opportunity.
When their time was up both gladly hurried from the floor to where their
group of friends awaited them. The expressions of the five girls varied
only in the degree of contempt each registered for what they had just
witnessed.
"Why didn't you wait to see whether you made the team?" inquired Jerry
with gentle sarcasm.
"A-h-h-h!" was Muriel's reply, expressive of her feelings.
"We couldn't make that team in a century." Marjorie was smiling a
whimsical little smile which contained no bitterness.
"I guess not. You might as well have played for twenty minutes with a
bunch of nine-pins. Anyway, you were dead before you ever set foot on
the floor. That Miss Elster has the coach, Miss Reid and several others
right on her side. This is the Sans inning, n'est ce pas? Uh-huh! No
mistake about it." Jerry bowed and smirked as she carried on this bit of
conversation with herself.
"Cast an eye upon the Sans just now," Leila said scornfully. "Are they
not pleased with themselves? Do you think they would have let you or
Muriel make that team? Not so long as they could influence those in
charge. The seniors are not to blame. They kept the date of the try-out
to themselves until the last to prevent the Sans from fixing things for
their freshman friends. It did small good." Leila shrugged her
shoulders.
"They shouldn't be allowed to run things," Jerry asserted stoutly. "The
trouble is everyone stands back and allows them to take the lead. Their
cast-iron nerve is what helps them out. Besides they are an unscrupulous
lot. They boast that they are the daughters of millionaires. Well, the
rest of us are not paupers. Only we are above trading upon our folks'
money as a means of influence. That is ignoble and should be stamped out
of Hamilton."
"It never will be unless we all work together for a new spirit of
democracy," broke in Ronny's resolute tones. "We must establish it in
our class regardless of these unfair sophomores and their false notions,
so detrimental to nobility of character."
"Unfair indeed." Leila smiled wryly. "Vera and I know. You should have
seen us last year. We had a disagreeable freshman cruise, thanks to the
Sans. They thought for a short time that we were perhaps poor. We found
it out and let them think so to their hearts' content. You should have
seen their scorn of us. At Thanksgiving we had our cars sent on to us.
Then they were in a quandary! We were not poor, so it seemed, but how
wealthy were we? They never found out. They tried so hard."
A blast of the manager's whistle signalled attention. The names of the
successful contestants were about to be read out by the coach. Lola
Elster had been awarded center. Two of her particular friends had won
right and left guard. Robin Page had achieved right forward. At this,
none watching wondered. She had played in the first squads and done good
work. Left forward fell to a Miss Burton, a freshman Dulcie Vale had
been rushing and whom she had escorted to the frolic.
"I am glad it is over. I am not sorry I tried for a place on the team,"
soliloquized Marjorie aloud. "Neither Muriel nor I had a fair chance. I
was hurt and disappointed for a minute or so after I saw the way things
were going. I am not now. I shall wait until next year," she announced,
in a calm, determined voice, "then I shall make the team. That means we
will all have to work together to bring about a happier state of affairs
at Hamilton. None of us can be free or happy with this shadow hanging
over us. There can be no true class spirit unless we base it on the
traditions which Mr. Brooke Hamilton wished observed by the students of
Hamilton College."