MARJORIE FINDS A SUPPORTER
Marjorie returned from Baretti’s full of the glorious news of the little
proprietor’s triumph over Sabani in behalf of Page and Dean. Jerry was
equally elated and burst into one of what she had named “Joyful Jingles
to Bean.” She spouted them on special occasions.
“Thanks to our faithful dago friend
The Goblin’s schemes fell through.
’Tis plainly seen, oh, upright Bean
Such trouble’s not for you.”
She did a fantastic polka step around Marjorie, keeping time with her
declamation.
“You funny old goose!” Marjorie caught her and wrapped both arms about
her. “Yes, the Goblin’s scheme did fall through, and, oh, rapture, the
busses will begin running again tomorrow morning! What would we have
done without Signor Baretti’s help? He’s splendid in his interest in our
work here. He ranks with Miss Susanna, Prexy and Professor Wenderblatt
as our most loyal supporters. Now I must tell you what he did.”
“Oh, save it till I go for Gus, Calista and Flossie. Let them hear it.
They’ve been looking for you. They’ve something on their minds. So has
Jeremiah. This is another wildly eventful day.” Jerry smiled warmly down
on Marjorie who had taken off her wraps and was now lounging in one of
the arm chairs. She reclined there, a graceful lissome figure in her
straight gown of pale jade broadcloth, with no trimming save that of her
superb young beauty to set it off.
“All the days here are somehow wildly eventful,” Marjorie said with a
little devoted smile. “Something remarkable seems always to be
happening.”
“Too true,” Jerry agreed with solemnity. “But some days are even more
eventful than that. I will mention as an example the day before we went
home for Thanksgiving.” Both girls began to laugh. “That was some day.
Muriel began it right by tipping her cup of coffee into my lap. Next. I
fell down three steps of the stairs. Next. I dropped a new library book
in the mud. Next. I went to the gym to see Gentleman Gus and got hit on
the nose with the ball. Next. I couldn’t find my suitcase in the trunk
room so I had to borrow one. Do you recall any other exciting
misfortunes of that particular day?” She turned innocently inquiring
eyes upon Marjorie.
“Nope. You were a martyr that day, poor old Jeremiah.”
“I need your sympathy, Bean,” Jerry rejoined brokenly. “It’s a hard
world for some folks. Still I’m glad I’ve survived.”
“Cheer up. Here come the Bertramites.” Marjorie’s keen ears had caught
the sound of familiar voices. She went to the door and ushered in the
trio of sophs.
“What’s the latest from Guiseppe, the defender?” Gussie immediately
clamored to know. The three girls surrounded Marjorie while Jerry made
an equally eager fourth member of the group.
It did not take long to put them in possession of the good news. They
received it with enthusiasm, modified to keep within the limit of noise.
Since the evening when Marjorie and Jerry had been called to the door by
Miss Peyton on the head of being disturbers of quiet no more reports had
been made against them. Miss Peyton’s threat that she would place the
matter before President Matthews had evidently never been carried out.
Marjorie could only hope that it had not. The president’s cordiality to
her whenever they chanced to meet assured her of his regard. Still she
disliked the idea intensely of being reported to headquarters for
anything so utterly uncontrolled and childish.
“What a strange, dreadful life for a girl to lead!” exclaimed Calista
Wilmot. She referred to Marjorie’s account of Leslie Cairns’ part in the
bus trouble.
“Yes, it is.” Marjorie’s reply was spoken in all seriousness. “After
Signor Baretti had told us of what she had done Robin and I both thought
we ought not tell even you girls of it. Then we thought of the way Phil,
Barbara and the rest of you helped break up her plot by coming out with
your cars in the storm. We decided it was only fair to tell you the
exact circumstances. The Travelers, old and new, should be, and are, I’m
sure, trustworthy. None of them would circulate any of the private
business of the club about the campus.”
“There’s another argument just as strong as to why Leslie Cairns’
actions shouldn’t be kept secret from the club. She doesn’t deserve to
be shielded for what she did.” Gussie’s handsome, colorful face showed
shocked disapproval. “Why, she has acted just like a regular old
politician who goes around before election day and buys votes!”
Gussie’s comparison raised a laugh in which Marjorie joined. Long ago
she and Robin had come to that conclusion.
“Well, we won’t ever say a word about her outside the Travelers,” she
said, her face sobering. “Everything’s going nicely again. Now,
children, my tale’s told. Jerry says you have something on your minds.
Go sit on that couch, three in a row, and spout forth your news.”
Marjorie indicated her couch bed. “If you don’t care to sit there, why,
here is our assortment of chairs.” She grandly pointed them out.
“Let Gus tell it. She began it,” declared Flossie. The three friends had
bumped themselves down on the couch, with much interference one with
another and little bursts of laughter.
“Your fairy-tale Princess and Leslie Cairns had a fuss at the Colonial
today. They were together there when the three of us went into the place
for ices.” Gussie said in matter-of-fact tones. “Miss Monroe was ripping
mad. We heard her say that something wasn’t true, and that she wouldn’t
be bullied. She was so angry she talked louder than she intended. I
think she knew it for all in a minute she dropped her voice away down. I
wanted to be the one to tell you about this, Marjorie, for a certain
reason.” Her tone was flattering to Marjorie’s dignity.
“Speak, Gentleman Gus,” laughed Marjorie, amused by the very solemn
expression of Gussie’s face.
“Just because Miss Monroe was opposed to me at class election is no sign
that I should have any hard feeling toward her,” Gussie began. “I
haven’t. I know you think she’s going to—to—well, be more congenial some
day. She won’t be, though, if she keeps on associating with Miss Cairns.
She’ll begin to break rules, too. First thing she knows she’ll do
something serious and be expelled from Hamilton. I can’t forget how
sweet she looked the other night at the hop. I thought, since she seemed
to be peeved with Miss Cairns that maybe you could think of some way to
link her to Hamilton. So she’ll like the campus better than she does
Leslie Cairns.”
“I have thought of a way, Gussie,” Marjorie’s eyes sparkled. At last she
had a supporter in the cause of the difficult fairy-tale princess.
“We ought to forget there is any such person,” Calista said. “After the
way she reported us for being noisy on the day we got here. But you see
what forgiving natures we have.” She gave a whimsical little shrug and
smile.
“I decided to forget that she reported us,” came from Gussie
magnanimously. “She’s awfully thorny and hard to approach. She doesn’t
seem to care much for Miss Peyton and Miss Carter. They make great
effort toward being chummy with her.”
“Leila knows I’d like to have a Beauty contest; the kind of one she got
up when we were freshmen and she and Vera were sophs,” Marjorie told
them animatedly. “If we had one—”
“Good old M. M. thinks the Ice Queen would win it. That would let M. M.
out of being the college beauty—so she innocently schemes,” translated
Jerry. “We’d still be privileged to our own opinion, Ahem.” She coughed
suggestively. Next instant she had gone to the door in answer to a
rapping on it.
“You’re just in time,” she greeted, stepping back to allow Leila to
enter.
“In time for what, may I ask?” Leila’s bright blue eyes roved
speculatively about the room.
“For the Beauty contest,” returned Calista promptly.
“Then I must have won it. I see no one half as beautiful as myself
here,” was Leila’s modest opinion. “But have you seen Vera? Midget is
gone, unless you may be hiding her away in some small corner.”
“She went to town with Phil. Robin and I met them when we came from
Baretti’s.” Marjorie continued with a brief account of Robin’s and her
call at the inn.
“Once more she has dropped her gold into the sea,” was Leila’s
thoroughly Irish comment. “It is the same old story, Beauty. She never
wins.”
“Bean hopes to be Bean without beauty,” Jerry said briskly to Leila.
“Can it be done?”
“I shall have to consult the stars.” Leila rolled her eyes mysteriously
at Marjorie.
“Never mind me, Leila, won’t you please help me about the Beauty
contest. You know why I am so determined to have it. Gussie feels the
same as I do about Miss Monroe. So does Calista. I’ve two on my side.”
“Count me in, Bean. Never forget your friend.” Jerry sprang to
Marjorie’s support.
“And me,” echoed Flossie Hart.
“I’m sorry, Beauty, but I can’t help you with the contest.” Leila pursed
her lips and shook her black head. “Now, why should you bother your head
about it?”
“Because I think it is the one thing to do for Miss Monroe. I want to do
it, Leila. Why won’t you help me?” Marjorie sent Leila a puzzled, almost
hurt glance.
“Why won’t I help you? Because—” Leila’s smile burst forth from her
sober face like sunlight through a cloud—“I shall be busy managing the
Beauty contest myself.”
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