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CHAPTER XXV – WHEN THE SWORD FELL
The longer Dulcie pondered the matter, the more she became convinced she could do more damage by letter than to go to the doctor in person. Elizabeth Walbert had several times advised this course. The latter knew nothing of Dulcie’s resolve to leave college. Dulcie did not purpose she should until she wrote the sophomore from her New York apartment after leaving Hamilton. She had planned to take an apartment in an exclusive hotel on Central Park West. From there she would write her mother that she was too ill to return to college. She left it to her mother’s tact to break the news to her father. He was not to know she had failed miserably in all respects at Hamilton.
Over and over again she wrote the damaging letter to Doctor Matthews. She wrote at first at length, putting in everything she could think of against the Sans. She made effort to stick to facts. There were enough of them to create havoc. Then she rewrote the letter, eliminating and revising until the finished product of her spite was worded to suit her. It was necessarily a long letter and could not fail in its object.
When college closed for Easter, Dulcie shook the dust of Hamilton from her feet and took her letter to New York with her. She did not inform the registrar that she would not return. She would write that from New York. The day after college reopened, following the ten days’ vacation, Dulcie mailed four letters. One to Elizabeth Walbert, one to Miss Humphrey, one to Leslie Cairns, and the letter.
Those four letters created amazement, displeasure, consternation, according to the recipient. Miss Humphrey was annoyed as only a registrar can be annoyed by such a procedure. Elizabeth Walbert was surprised and miffed because Dulcie had not confided in her. Doctor Matthews’ indignation soared to still heights. Leslie Cairns opened her letter at the breakfast table. She read the first page and hurriedly rose, tipping over her coffee in her haste. Paying no attention to the stream of coffee which flowed to the floor, she rushed from the dining room to her own. Locking the door, she sat down with trembling knees to read the letter. She read it twice, uttered a half sob of agony and threw herself face downward on her bed. The sword had fallen, the end had come.
Of the four letters, the one Dulcie had written her was the shortest and read:
“Leslie:
“When you read this you will not feel so secure as you did the night you humiliated me so. You thought I would not dare say a word about a number of things because I was afraid of being expelled from college. You will see now that you made a serious mistake; so serious you won’t be at Hamilton long after President Matthews receives the letter I have written him. I have told him everything. The Sans are in for trouble with him. It doesn’t make a particle of difference to me what happens to you and your pals, for I am not coming back to Hamilton. My letter to Doctor Matthews is convincing. You will surely receive a summons. What? Oh, yes! I think I have proved myself almost as clever as you.
“Dulciana Maud Vale.”
Not far behind Leslie came Natalie Weyman to her friend’s room. Startled by Leslie’s peculiar behavior she had followed her upstairs, her own breakfast untouched.
“Leslie,” she called softly, “May I come in? It’s Nat.”
“Go away.” Leslie’s voice was harsh and broken. “Come back after recitations this afternoon.”
“Very well.” Natalie retreated, puzzled but not angry. She was understanding that something very unusual had happened to Leslie. Her mind took it up, however, as presumably bad news from home. She hoped nothing serious had happened to Leslie’s father. Her shallow serenity soon returned and she went about her affairs smugly unconscious of what was in store for her.
Meanwhile, President Matthews was holding a long and unpleasant session with Laura Sayres. Dulcie had not failed to describe Laura’s part in the plot against Miss Remson. Now the incensed doctor was endeavoring to pin his shifty secretary down to lamentable facts.
Laura had always assured Leslie she would never divulge the Sans’ secrets under pressure. For a short period only she lied, evaded and pretended ignorance. Little by little the ground was cut from under her treacherous feet. Before the morning was over President Matthews had the complete story of the trickery which had brought misunderstanding between him and Miss Remson. Of the hazing Laura knew little; enough, however, to establish the truth of Dulcie’s confession.
“I have yet to find a more flagrant case of dishonorable dealing,” were the doctor’s cutting words at the close of that painful morning. “I trusted you. Knowing that, you should have been above trading upon my confidence. I cannot comprehend your object in allying yourself with these lawless young women. You say you are not a member of their club. Why, then, were their dishonest interests so dear to you?”
To this Laura made no reply save by sobs. She had crumpled entirely. One thing only she had rigorously kept back. She would not admit that she had been paid by Leslie Cairns for her ignoble services. If the doctor suspected this he made no sign of it. He dismissed her with stern brevity and was glad to see her go. Aside from her worthless character, she had not been a satisfactory secretary.
Immediately she was gone, he put on his hat and overcoat and set out for Wayland Hall. To right matters with his old friend was to be his second move.
Arriving at the Hall at the hour the students were returning for luncheon, his appearance caused no end of private flutter. Having, as yet, held no communication with Leslie, the older members of the Sans were thrown into panic, nevertheless. What they had least desired had come to pass. The Lookouts, on the contrary, were overjoyed. Helen Trent had spied the president and promptly passed the word of it to her chums.
To Miss Remson the surprise of her caller amounted to a shock. It did not take long for the manager to produce the letter she had received, purporting to be from Doctor Matthews.
“I never dictated any such letter,” was his blunt denial. “Yes, the signature is mine. I can only explain it by saying that it may have been traced and copied from another letter, or else it has been handed me to sign when I was in a hurry. Miss Sayres had an annoying habit of bringing me my letters for signature at the very last minute before I was due to leave my office. I dropped the matter of the way these girls at your house had behaved because I received a letter from you which stated that you had come to a better understanding with them and would like to have the matter closed. I deferred to your judgment, as always. I know no one better qualified as manager of a campus house than you.”
“I never wrote you any such letter,” avowed the manager. “Several of my devoted friends in the house among the students were confident that there had been trickery used. I was obliged to acquaint them with the fact that you had refused to act in the matter of transferring these girls to another campus house. My friends had suffered many annoyances at their hands. I had promised them of my own accord that these girls should be transferred. It has all been a sad misunderstanding. I am glad to have it cleared up.” Miss Remson avoided all mention of her own personal humiliation.
Returned to his office at Hamilton Hall after a late luncheon, Doctor Matthews requested Miss Humphrey to lend him her stenographer for the rest of the afternoon. His business correspondence attended to, he brought forth Dulcie Vale’s letter from an inside coat pocket and composed a stiff, brief summons. This summons the stenographer had the pleasure of typing seventeen times. A list of names which Dulcie had thoughtfully included in her letter furnished seventeen addresses. The Sans were curtly informed that Doctor Matthews required their presence in his office at Hamilton Hall at four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon.
Almost incidental with the time at which these notes were being typed, a bevy of white-faced girls had gathered in Leslie Cairns’ room to discuss the dire situation. Leslie had recovered from her first spasm of grief and fear and had let Natalie into her room immediately the latter had come from recitations. Natalie brought more bad news in the shape of an apprehensive report of the doctor’s call on Miss Remson.
During the afternoon Leslie had received a telephone call from Laura Sayres. Laura had refused to go into much detail over the telephone. She announced herself as having been discharged from the doctor’s employ and asserted that he knew “all about everything” without her having said a word of betrayal. Leslie had not stopped to consider whether she believed the secretary’s story or not. She had said: “You can’t tell me anything. I know too much already. Goodbye.” With that she had hung up the receiver. Her eyes blinded by tears of defeat and real fear, she had stumbled her way to her room. There she had spent the most unhappy afternoon of her life.
“It’s no use, girls. We are done. You may as well be thinking what excuse you can make to your families, for you will be expelled as sure as fate. Matthews’ call on Remson shows that Dulcie betrayed us. Sayres was fired by the doctor; all on account of that Remson mix-up. She didn’t see Dulcie’s letter, but I know he received it. Sayres called me on the ’phone.”
“But, Leslie, some of us don’t know a thing about how you worked that Remson affair! You never told us. I don’t see why we should be expelled for something we know nothing of.” Eleanor made this half tearful defense.
“Oh, that isn’t all.” Leslie’s loose-lipped mouth curled in a bitter smile. “There is the hazing business, too. Dulc told that, of course. Perhaps she told the ‘soft talk’ stunt Ramsey taught the soph team last year. I don’t know. All is over for us. I do know that. I expected to go into business with my father after I was graduated from Hamilton. Now!” She walked away from her companions and stood with her back toward them at the window.
“Perhaps it will blow over,” ventured Margaret Wayne. “I shall make a hard fight to stay on at Hamilton. I won’t be cheated out of my diploma, if I can help it. It’s our word against Dulcie’s.”
“That’s of no use to us now.” Leslie turned suddenly from the window with this gloomy utterance. “Remember Laura Sayres has been discharged from Matthews’ employ. Remson and Matthews have had an understanding. What chance have we? Sayres told me the doctor quizzed her for over two hours. She claims she told nothing against us. I know better. If Dulcie, the little wretch, had sprung this before Easter we might have saved our faces. She waited purposely. She and Walbert deliberately planned this exposé. Look for a summons soon. We won’t escape. I shall begin to pack tonight. So far as this rattletrap old college is concerned, I don’t care a rap about leaving it. All that is worrying me is: What shall I say to my father?”
CHAPTER XXVI – MAY DAY EVENING
For two days, in a second floor class room at Hamilton Hall, a real tribunal, consisting of Doctor Matthews and the college Board, convened. Very patiently the body of dignified men listened to what the offenders against Hamilton College had to say by way of confession and appeal for clemency. To her great disgust, Marjorie was summoned before the Board on the morning of the second day. Questioned, she admitted to having been hazed. More than that she refused to state.
“I claim the right to keep my own counsel,” she had returned, when pressed to relate the details of the incident. “I was not injured. I did not even contract a slight cold. I did not see the faces of those who hazed me. I know only two of the Sans Soucians personally, and these two slightly. My evidence would, therefore, be too purely circumstantial. I do not wish to give it. I beg to be excused.”
Not satisfied, two members of the Board had requested that she state the time and manner of her return to her house. Her quick assurance, “My friends found out where I was and came for me. We were all in the gymnasium at half-past nine, in time for the unmasking,” was accepted, not without smiles, by her inquisitors. She was allowed to go. She took with her a memory of two rows of white, despairing girl faces. It hurt her not a little. She could not rejoice in the Sans’ downfall, though she knew it to be merited.
At the end of the inquiry the verdict was unanimous for expellment, to go into effect at once. The culprits were given one week to pack and arrange with their families for their return home.
Leslie Cairns had received the major share of blame. Throughout the inquiry she had worn an exasperating air of indifference, which she had doggedly fought to maintain. Not a muscle of her rugged face had moved during the reading of the long letter written by Dulcie Vale to the president. She had laconically admitted the truth of it, coolly correcting one or two erroneous statements Dulcie had made. Afterward, in her room, she had broken down and sobbed bitterly. This no one but herself knew.
The disgraced seventeen left Hamilton for New York on the seventh morning after sentence had been pronounced upon them. They departed early in the morning before the majority of the Wayland Hall girls were up and stirring. Marjorie was glad not to witness their departure. She had not approved of them. Still they were young girls like herself. She experienced a certain pity for their weakness of character. Jerry, however, was openly delighted to be rid of her pet abomination.
With the approach of May Day the Nine Travelers had something pleasant to look forward to. Miss Susanna had sent them invitations to dinner on May Day evening. Very gleefully they planned to deluge the mistress of Hamilton Arms with May baskets. These they intended to leave in one of the two automobiles which they would use. After dinner, Ronny had volunteered to slip away from the party, secure the baskets and place them before the front door. She would lift the knocker, then scurry inside, leaving Jonas, who was to be in the secret, to call Miss Susanna to the door.
When, as Miss Hamilton’s guests on May Day evening, they were ushered into the beautiful, mahogany-panelled dining room at Hamilton Arms, a surprise awaited them. The long room, an apartment of state in Brooke Hamilton’s day, was a veritable bower of violets. Bouquets of them, surrounded by their own decorative green leaves were in evidence everywhere in the room. They were the double English variety, and their fragrance was as a sweet breath of spring. A scented purple mound of them occupied the center of the dining table. It was topped by a familiar object; a willow, ribbon-trimmed basket. As on the previous May Day evening it was full of violets. Narrow violet satin ribbon depended from the center of the basket to each place, at which set a small replica of the basket Marjorie had left before Miss Susanna’s door, just one year ago that evening.
“I knew Miss Susanna would guess who went Maying a year ago this evening!” Jerry exclaimed. “After you had known Marvelous Marjorie a little while the guessing came easy, didn’t it?” She turned impulsively to Miss Hamilton.
“Yes; you are quite correct, Jerry,” the old lady made quick answer. “One year ago tonight was a very happy occasion for me. Violets were Uncle Brooke’s favorite flower. I cannot tell you how strangely I felt at sight of that basket. Jonas came into the library and asked me to go to the front door. He said in his solemn way: ‘There’s something at the door I would like you to see, Miss Susanna.’ He looked so mysterious, I rose at once from my chair and went to the door. I must explain, too, that the first of May was Uncle Brooke’s birthday. When I looked out and saw that basket of violets, it was like a silent message from him. Jonas had no more idea than I from whom the lovely May offering had come. He had heard the clang of the knocker, but when he opened the door there was not a soul in sight. The good fairy had vanished, leaving me a fragrant May Day remembrance.”
Marjorie had laughed at first sight of the familiar basket. She was still smiling, rather tremulously, however. The beauty of the decorations, the fragrance of the violets and the amazing knowledge that she had brought Brooke Hamilton’s favorite flower to the doorstep on the anniversary of his birth, made strong appeal to the fund of sentiment which lay deep within her, rarely coming to the surface.
“How came you to remember a crotchety person like me, child?” Miss Susanna’s bright brown eyes were soft with tenderness. She reached forward and took both Marjorie’s hands in hers.
Thus they stood for an instant, youth and age, beside the violet-crowned table. The other girls, lovely in their pale-hued evening frocks, surrounded the pair with smiling faces.
“I – I don’t know,” stammered Marjorie. “I – I thought perhaps you would like it. I couldn’t resist putting it on your doorstep. We were all making May baskets to hang on one another’s doors. I thought of you. I knew you loved flowers, because I had seen you working among them. That’s all.”
“No, that was only the beginning.” Miss Susanna released Marjorie’s hands. “It gave me much to think of for many months; in fact until a little girl put aside her own plans to help a poor old lady pick up a basket of spilled chrysanthemums.”
Appearing a trifle embarrassed at her own rush of sentiment, Miss Hamilton turned to the others and proceeded briskly to seat her guests at table. While she occupied the place at the head, she gave Marjorie that at the foot. Lifting the little basket at her place to inhale the perfume of the flowers, something dropped therefrom. It struck against the thin water glass at her place with a little clang. Next instant she was exclaiming over a dainty lace pin of purple enameled violets with tiny diamond centers.
“I would advise all of you to do a little exploring.” Miss Susanna’s voice held a note of suppressed excitement.
Obeying with the zest of girlhood, the others found pretty lace pins of gold and silver, chosen with a view toward suiting the personality of each.
As Marjorie fastened her new possession on the bodice of the violet-tinted crêpe gown, which had been Mah Waeo’s gift to her father for her, she had a feeling of living in a fairy tale. Hamilton Arms had always seemed as an enchanted castle to her. She had never expected to penetrate its fastnesses and become an honored guest within its walls.
“Miss Susanna, when did you first guess that it was I who left you a May basket?” she asked, rather curiously. “Lucy and Jerry said you would find me out. I didn’t think so.”
“It was after Christmas, Marjorie,” the old lady replied. “Perhaps it was the bunch of violets on the wreath you girls sent for Uncle Brooke’s study that established the connection. I really can’t say. It dawned upon me all of a sudden one evening. I spoke of it to Jonas. The old rascal simply said: ‘Oh, yes. I have thought so for a long time.’ Not a word to me of it had he peeped. It furnished me with pleasant thoughts for so long, I decided that one good turn deserves another. I succeeded in surprising you children tonight, but no one could have been more astonished than I when I gathered in that blessed violet basket last May Day night.”
CHAPTER XXVII – CONCLUSION
“And tomorrow is another day; the great day!” Leila Harper sat with clasped hands behind her head, fondly viewing her chums.
The Nine Travelers had gathered in her room for a last intimate talk. Tomorrow would be Commencement. Directly after the exercises were over the nine had agreed to meet for a last celebration at Baretti’s. Evening of that day would see them all going their appointed ways.
“I can’t make it seem true that you girls won’t be back here next year,” Marjorie said dolefully, setting down her lemonade glass with a despondent thump, a half-eaten macaroon poised in mid-air.
“Eat your sweet cake child and don’t weep,” consoled Leila. While she was trying hard to look sad, there was a peculiar gleam in her blue eyes. As yet Marjorie had failed to catch it.
“Nothing will seem the same,” grumbled Jerry. “With you four good scouts lifted out of college garden there will be an awful vacancy.” Jerry fixed almost mournful eyes on Helen. “Why couldn’t you girls have entered a year later or else we a year earlier?” she asked retrospectively.
“Cheer up, Jeremiah. The worst is yet to come.” Vera patted Jerry on the back. Standing behind Jerry’s chair she cast an odd glance at Leila. Leila passed it on to Helen, who in turn telegraphed some mute message to Katherine Langly.
“I can’t see it,” Jerry said, her round face unusually sober. “It is hard enough now to have to lose four good pals at one swoop. I sha’n’t feel any worse at the last minute tomorrow than I do tonight. I have an actual case of the blues this evening which even lemonade and cakes won’t dispel.”
“Let us not talk about it,” advised Veronica. “Every time the subject comes up we all grow solemn.”
“I’m worse off than the rest of you,” complained Muriel. “I am torn between two partings. I can’t bear to think of losing good old Moretense.”
“While we are on the subject of partings,” began Leila, ostentatiously clearing her throat, “I regret that I shall have to say something which can but add to your sorrow. I – that is – ” She looked at Vera and burst into laughter which carried a distinctly happy note.
“What ails you, Leila Greatheart?” Marjorie focused her attention on the Irish girl’s mirthful face. “I am just beginning to see that something unusual is on foot. The idea of parading mysteries before us at the very last minute of your journey through the country of college!”
“’Tis a beautiful country, that.” Leila spoke purposely, with a faint brogue. “And did you say it was my last minute there? Suppose it was not? What? As our departed bogie, Miss Cairns, used to say.”
“Do you know what you are talking about?” inquired Jerry. “I hope you do. I haven’t caught the drift of your remarks – yet.”
“Do you tell her then, Midget.” Leila fell suddenly silent, her Cheshire cat grin ornamenting her features.
“Oh, let Helen tell it. She knows.” Vera beamed on Helen, who passed the task, whatever it might be, on to Katherine. She declined, throwing it back to Leila.
“What is this bad news that none of you will take upon yourselves to tell us?” Lucy’s green eyes sought Katherine’s in mock reproach.
“I have it.” Leila held up a hand. “Now; altogether! We are going to – ” she nodded encouragement to Kathie, Vera and Helen.
“We are going to stay!” shouted four voices in concert.
“Stay where? What do – ” Jerry stopped abruptly. Her face relaxed of a sudden into one of her wide smiles. She rose and began hugging Helen, shouting: “You don’t mean it? Honestly?”
The rest of the Lookouts were going through similar demonstrations of joy. For a moment or two everyone talked and laughed at once. Gradually the first noisy reception of the news subsided and Leila could be heard:
“It’s like this, children,” she said. “Vera wants to specialize in Greek. I am still keen on physics and psychology. Helen wants to make a new and more comprehensive study of literature, and Kathie is going to teach English. Miss Fernald is leaving and Kathie is to have her place. We’ve had all we could do to keep it from you. Vera and I might better be here next year than at home. We’d have not much to do there. We are anxious to help make the dream of the dormitory come true.”
“It is too beautiful for anything!” was Marjorie’s childish but heartfelt rejoicing. “With you four to help us next year we shall accomplish wonders. Oh, I shall love being a senior!”
What Marjorie’s senior year at Hamilton brought her will be told in “Marjorie Dean, College Senior.”
