TESTING TWO TRAVELERS
“Remember, friends and fellow Travelers, this is a serious occasion.”
Ronny, as president of the original Five Travelers, stood facing her
companions who had disposed themselves four in a row on Jerry’s
couch-bed and on chairs in alignment with the couch.
“It’s not very serious any of us are looking, nor our worthy president,
either,” Leila declared, throwing Ronny a twinkling glance.
“Never judge by appearances—so very reckless, don’t you know,” Ronny
rebuked, her charming face full of mischief.
“On with the meeting. No stops allowed for repartee. We’ve a lot to do,
and a spread to eat up afterward,” Jerry announced in her most judicial
tones.
“Thank you for your delicate reminder that time is flying, Jeremiah.”
Ronny made Jerry a deep bow, meant to convey her humble gratitude. “As I
was about to say when I was interrupted”—Ronny stared hard at Leila—“we
are to pass upon the names written on slips in this box.” She held up a
small square box of ornamental brass.
During their initial railway journey to Hamilton College more than four
years previous the quintette of Sanford chums had helped while away the
long hours on the train by banding themselves into a private, informal
club which they named the Five Travelers’ Club. They had found interest
in looking upon themselves as five travelers about to explore the
unknown country of College.
The little association had flourished and been a comfort to them during
their freshman year. Every now and then, as the journey through the
country of college continued they had added a member to the group. When
Commencement and the end of their proscribed course came the still
informal club had become the Nineteen Travelers.
It had become the earnest desire of the Nineteen Travelers to perpetuate
the club as a sorority. After much discussion it had been decided to
leave it as a parting gift to nineteen seniors. Due to the multiplicity
of duties which the original Nineteen Travelers had pledged themselves
to perform, the organization of the new sorority was left,
unfortunately, until the last minute. By that time several new-fledged
seniors, eligible to membership, had departed for their homes.
It was Ronny who had then proposed that each Traveler should write on a
slip of paper her choice of senior to succeed her. The slips were to be
placed in a box, without having been examined, and the box placed in
Miss Remson’s care until the return the next fall of the post graduate
Travelers to Hamilton College. To them would be intrusted the forming of
the new sorority.
“I feel confident,” Ronny continued, “that the seniors whose names are
in this box are the very girls we most wish to carry on our club. Still,
in the event that any one of you may have an objection to a name as read
out by me, I will count ten slowly after the reading of each name.
Anyone who may make objection must say ‘no’ within the count, and
afterward frankly state her reason for so doing.”
With this preamble Ronny put a hand in the box, drew from it a slip and
solemnly read out: “Phyllis Moore.” The laughing gleam in her gray eyes
did not accord with her solemn face. “One, two——” she began.
A chorus of laughter drowned her voice, mingled with cries of: “No; no,
indeed! I object.”
“Mercy on us!” Up went Ronny’s hands. “Such strenuous objections!
Sh-h-h. Be calm and state our objections, one at a time.”
“We can’t decide as to her qualifications for membership until she has
been put to the test,” boldly demanded Lillian Wenderblatt.
“Very well,” Ronny agreed with the utmost amiability.
“Poor me.” Phil groaned audibly.
“I would suggest that action be suspended on the candidate to be tested
until the other names have been passed upon. In the event that there may
be other candidates for the test they may then be put to the ordeal
together.” Marjorie made this sly proviso, and with apparent innocence.
“Other candidates!” exclaimed Barbara Severn. “I know only one other
besides Phil. Poor me!”
“Barbara Severn.” Ronny promptly read out her name. Another burst of
vigorous, laughing “Noes” ascended. Barbara was also condemned to the
test.
During the Nineteen Travelers’ senior year at Hamilton they had more
than once invited Phil and Barbara to become members of the club. Both
had refused the invitation, preferring to receive their election as a
parting gift from their elder sisters. They had been as invaluable to
the Travelers, however, as though they had been members. Now their
comrades proposed to show appreciation in their own peculiar fashion.
None of the seventeen other names which Ronny read out for the august
consideration of the Travelers were challenged.
“I am sure you will be pleased to hear that Miss Mason and Jer—Miss Macy
will conduct the test,” Ronny purred to the hapless candidates.
“That’s right, half call me Jeremiah. Everyone’s only about half
respectful to me,” grumbled Jerry.
“Oh, we’re de-lighted,” Barbara and Phil together satirically responded.
“So glad. As all appear to be pleased let the test begin,” Ronny smiled
encouragingly on the candidates.
“Ahem-m! Candidates rise and come forward. Stand there; exactly in
line,” Jerry dictated grandly. “You will now listen to Miss Mason while
she explains to you the nature of the first test.”
Vera came smilingly toward the two girls. “Here is a penny for each of
you,” she said generously. “You are not to spend it for candy. No, no.”
She shook a forbidding finger at them. “You are to get down on the floor
and each shove your penny to the door and”—she beamed beneficently on
her victims—“with your nose.”
“Woof-f!” Phil made a despairing gesture.
“I can never do it,” giggled Barbara, “but I’ll try.”
“We are waiting.” Vera sweetly indicated the place on the rug on which
the unlucky candidates were to prostrate themselves.
Phil was first to obey. Barbara paused to watch her and learn the way
such a feat was to be performed. It took Phil not more than a minute to
discover that creeping as a means of locomotion would not aid her
penny’s progress to the door. She was obliged to lie flat to the floor,
face downward, and wriggle very slowly toward the goal, aiming constant
dabs at the penny with her nose.
Her gallant progress in spite of odds so entertained Barbara she had to
be reminded of her part in the test. She proved not nearly as skillful
as Phil in the art of penny-shoving. Meanwhile the room rang with
laughter.
“The candidates will now be allowed a breathing spell while I consult
with my valued assistant and prepare the next degree,” was Jerry’s
gracious announcement after Phil had triumphantly pushed her penny the
required distance and Barbara had shoved hers over half way to the door.
The next degree appeared in the form of two rows of potatoes, placed at
short distances apart. At one end of each row was a basket. Jerry handed
Phil and Barbara each a teaspoon and assigned them to a potato row.
“Start at this end. Pick up the potatoes on your teaspoon and carry them
to the basket,” was her next bland instruction.
“That sounds easy,” sighed Barbara. “Oh, my nose,” she tenderly rubbed
it.
To balance a good-sized potato on a teaspoon and carry it across a room
is a feat which requires practice. Phyllis and Barbara were novices at
it. They toiled patiently at the ridiculous task while the Travelers had
a hilarious time at their expense. Before either had succeeded in
placing more than two or three potatoes in their baskets Vera called
them off the job.
“We’ll have to take your will for the deed,” she told them. “Your sense
of balance seems to be sadly lacking. Don’t be discouraged. Both of you
have splendid useful noses even if your potato carrying was wobbly.
You’ve done nobly. Now we are going to give you a feed. I hope you won’t
mind being blindfolded for a little while. It’s quite necessary.
“Nothing could please us more,” Phil assured extravagantly.
“Whoever heard of an initiation without the candidates were blindfolded?
Go as far as you like.” Barbara was equally gracious.
Jerry proceeded to blindfold the two in her business-like way. Next she
motioned to Vera, who brought forward two bungalow aprons. She and Vera
politely assisted Phil and Barbara into the aprons. The pair were then
led to chairs and ordered to be seated.
From the top shelf of her dress closet Jerry took a square pasteboard
box. Opened, two immense, shining cream puffs were revealed. Laughter
greeted the sight of them. The other Travelers recognized the puffs as
having come from a certain bakery in the town of Hamilton where the size
of the dainty and its extra-generous cream filling had popularized it
among the Hamilton College girls.
“Here, Phyllis Marie Moore; you can’t say I never treated you. In the
absence of plates, hold out both hands.” Jerry lifted one of the huge
puffs from the box and carefully set it in Phil’s obediently
outstretched hands. She then went through the same performance with
Barbara as the recipient. “Eat them nicely,” she admonished with wicked
significance.
“Eat them nicely,” mimicked Barbara. “I can’t eat a cream puff nicely
when I can see every bite I take of it. Blindfolded—good night!”
“They’re awfully good anyway,” consoled Phil. She held the puff in one
hand and went cautiously over the humps and bumps of the big pastry
shell. She boldly attacked a corner which promised not to let out too
copiously the fairly thin cream filling. She did very well until she had
eaten away enough of the shell to court disaster. It would have been
hard enough to eat the puff daintily had she been able to see it. Minus
sight and a plate or paper napkin on which to place it she soon managed
to smear her face, hands and apron liberally with cream. She ate away
desperately but there appeared to be twice as much filling as should
have been.
Barbara did far worse at puff eating than Phyllis. Her frantic efforts
to keep the cream within the bounds of its crisp brown shell sent her
companions into shrieks of laughter. Worse still for them, Jerry had
decreed that they could not wipe either hands or faces until she gave
the word.
In the midst of the fun Marjorie obeyed a sudden impulse to leave the
room and stand in the hall outside the door for a moment. She slipped
away unnoticed, anxious to ascertain how plainly the laughter and talk
of her companies sounded from outside. She and Jerry had hung three
heavy portieres which Miss Remson had given them before the door leading
into the hall and before the doors of the two dress closets. The manager
had assured her that the portieres would serve to a great extent to
deaden sounds from within the room.
She smiled her relieved satisfaction after she had listened intently for
three or four minutes. She could hear only faintly the sounds of
conversation mingled with laughter. She was of the opinion that such
sounds would not be disturbing to any student on the same floor.
“Watchman, tell us of the night,” hailed Jerry as Marjorie again stepped
into the room. “I know what you’ve been doing. You’ve been listening to
how noisy we are.”
“Right-o, Jeremiah. And we haven’t been disgracefully noisy, after all,”
Marjorie gaily assured. “While the girls were laughing loudest at
Barbara and Phil I stole out of here into the hall. I wanted to find
out, if I could, just how noisy we were. That heavy curtain we hung over
the door shuts the sound in beautifully. You can only hear it faintly
from the hall.”
“Good work, Bean; good work.” Jerry patted Marjorie on the back. “We’ve
two more stunts to put Phil and Barbara through yet and the crowd is
getting hilariouser and hilariouser. Listen to them now.”
A fresh gale of mirth testified to the truth of Jerry’s remarks. It
assaulted Marjorie’s critical ears with almost dismaying force. Reminded
of what she had just proven to her own satisfaction she grew reassured.
Since that day, early in the fall, when Doris Monroe had reported the
joyful little welcome party in Gussie Forbes’ room to Miss Remson as
disturbing to her peace Marjorie and Jerry had been expecting the same
dire fate would overtake them. Their room was the Travelers’
headquarters as well as a favorite haunt of the five Bertram girls.
“It’s our positive good fortune that we escaped thus far,” Marjorie had
more than once told Jerry.
In itself to have been reported to Miss Remson as disturbers would not
have troubled Marjorie and Jerry. Understanding between them and the
brisk little manager of the Hall was complete. It was their standing as
post graduates, their college honor which they prided themselves upon.
As post graduates they would be first to be weighed in the balance. They
ardently desired not to be found wanting even in small things.
What Marjorie had not known when she returned to Room 15 after her brief
moment of listening in the hall was that she had been observed. Across
the hall from Room 15 two interested sophomores had kept diligent watch
since the Travelers had come upstairs from dinner. With their own door a
few stealthy inches ajar they had heard, or imagined they heard, what
they had been longing to hear—noise enough from “those tiresome,
interfering P.G.’s” to warrant prompt action on their part.
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