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CHAPTER XXIV. – A NEW ALLY
From the moment Doris Monroe had realized that she might become a figure of importance on the campus her attitude toward college had changed. In the summer she had scornfully regarded the campus as a “ghastly old space.” Since the return to it of scores of smart, butterfly girls who owned cars and who made amusement a business during their recreation hours she had entirely altered her opinion.
Because she had chosen to be “miffed” at the Travelers during their summer stay at the Hall she still clung stubbornly to her groundless grudge against them. Then, too, Leslie Cairns had warned her against them. Leslie was a person for whom Doris had a certain amount of respect. Leslie had wealth in her own right and appeared to be afraid of no one. She had taken Doris for several rides in the white roadster and lunched and dined her expensively at exclusive wayside inns and tea rooms. When Leslie had returned to New York, shortly after Marjorie had returned to Sanford, Doris had missed her new acquaintance.
She was pleasantly surprised during the week following the sophomore election to find a note in the Hall bulletin board from Leslie Cairns. It read:
“Dear Doris:
“Meet me at the same old spot on the pike below the dago’s tomorrow afternoon at five-thirty sharp. Hope you are well and enjoying the knowledge shop.
“Yours,
“Leslie.”
“How are you?” was Leslie’s nonchalant greeting of the sophomore when Doris arrived in the gathering October dusk at the rendezvous. She leaned out of the small black car she was driving and extended a careless hand to Doris. “Hop in,” she invited. “We’re off to Breton Hill for dinner. I’m going to zip this road wagon along when I clear Hamilton Estates.”
“I’m so glad to see you again, Leslie,” Doris said with more warmth than she usually exhibited.
“So you’ve come to life.” Leslie grinned to herself as she started the car. “I had an idea you would. What’s new at the knowledge shop?” There was a veiled eagerness in her question. Leslie cared far more about what went on at Hamilton than she pretended. “Tell me anything and everything you can think of.”
“Things have livened immensely. I passed my soph exams and I was nominated for the soph presidency.” Doris went on with a somewhat lofty account of the sophomore election and her sudden rise in campus popularity. “You ought to see the way the girls stare at me when I am out on the campus,” she declared with enthusiasm. “I have some freshie crushes as well as sophs and some of the juniors and seniors are sweet to me. It’s because I’m so beautiful,” she added with cool assurance.
“Yes, you are a beauty,” Leslie admitted half enviously. “Do you think you have half the college going?”
“Mercy no!” Doris truthfully exclaimed. “I might have, I think, if I could afford to entertain in a very exclusive expensive way. That’s what counts. I have plenty of lovely clothes, but my father doesn’t believe in giving me a large allowance. He would be awfully angry if he knew that I took half a room instead of the single he applied for for me. I did it so as to have that much more spending money. I wish now I hadn’t. My roommate is Miss Harding, one of those horrid Sanford P. G.’s. She is snippy and so cheeky. A lot of the sophs are down on her and her crowd for boosting that stupid Miss Forbes for president.”
“That was a favorite trick of Bean and her Beanstalks when I was at Hamilton,” informed Leslie. She was regarding Doris’s pretty discontented features as though revolving some plan in the dark recesses of her scheming mind.
“It seems to be a favorite trick still,” replied Doris venomously. “I understand that Bean, as you call her, is trying to run the sports committee, take sides with one half the sophs and lecture the other half as to what they should do. She and that Miss Harper planned the election parade for Miss Forbes’ crowd. I heard that the sophs who were trying to boost me asked her to help them get up a parade and she refused to help them.”
“You sophs are foolish to stand such treatment.” Leslie busied herself with the wheel as though offering casual opinion.
“What can we do?” demanded Doris fiercely. “It’s hardly my place to start a fuss. I have a certain reputation as a beauty to keep up on the campus.”
“Yes, that’s so. You’re clever enough to see it. Let me see.” Leslie wrinkled her rugged features in intense concentration of thought. She was very desirous of hatching a plan of malicious action. It could hardly be traced to her, if carried out, she was reflecting comfortably.
“What the sophs should do is this,” she said at length. “They should write two letters; both to Bean. One should be from the sophs themselves, calling Bean down for interfering with their interests and ordering her thereafter to mind her own affairs. The other – ” Leslie hesitated. She wondered how much “Monroe would stand for.” She continued, “The other should be from the seniors with a more polite intimation that they are capable of managing college sports without P. G. help.”
“Oh, such letters couldn’t be sent,” vigorously disagreed Doris. “I wouldn’t dare suggest any such thing to my soph crushes. As for the seniors – that would be hopeless!”
“All right. Forget it, and listen to me,” Leslie ordered rather gruffly. “There’s one thing I can do for you to help you with the popularity business. I’m going to lend you my white roadster. I haven’t used it since I was here in the summer. It’s in a Hamilton garage now. I’ll pay for the up-keep of it a year in advance and run it up to the nearest garage to the campus. My garage will be ready by next spring, I hope. I’ll blow you to a stunning white sports coat and other togs to match the ‘Dazzler.’ I’ll open an account for you at the Hamilton Trust Company so you can entertain. I’ll – ”
“But, why – why should you do all this for me?” Doris cried wonderingly, stirred out of her usual high self-complacency. “I couldn’t really accept so much from you, Leslie. You see – ” her tones betrayed her reluctance to refuse Leslie’s magnificently generous offer.
“Because I chose to do it. What’s money to me? I’ll help you make yourself the campus beauty and bring back the good old days on the campus when money counted for something. Bean and that set of mush heads have turned Hamilton into a regular goody-goody shop. The sophs who rooted for you have the right idea. I’m going to be around here all winter so I can tell you a few tricks you’ll need to know.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know,” Doris repeated, as Leslie continued to put forward her offer. “My father has always said for me never to incur obligations. There’s nothing I could do for you in return, Leslie, that would count for anything like what you’d be doing for me.” She sighed enviously as she pictured herself in the white car.
“Yes, there are certain things you can do for me, later, when you’ve secured your own position on the campus.” Leslie had been driving slowly as she talked. Now she stopped the car at the side of the road. “You can help me make matters uncomfortable for Bean and her crowd. You can – ”
“I’m willing to do what I can, in my own way,” Doris responded with a zest which betrayed her own rancor. “You can see for yourself, though, Leslie, that I couldn’t do a thing such as you proposed about those letters.”
Leslie laughed, silently, grotesquely. Doris could surely be trusted to look out for her own interests. “I said ‘forget it’ didn’t I?” she reminded. Her tones, however, contained no mirth. She was inwardly scornful of Doris for her selfishness. Leslie had not the least intention of “forgetting,” though Doris might.
CHAPTER XXV. – “ONLY SHADOWS”
“Three letters. That’s not so bad.” Marjorie triumphantly waved the trio of coveted envelopes about her head as she entered her room from a long interesting bout with chemistry. “I’m tired enough to enjoy my mail. Vera and I have been experimenting with a compound this whole afternoon. It should have come out black and it didn’t – it came out a beautiful shade of green.” Marjorie threw herself into a chair, laughing, and began picking open an envelope.
“The way of all great experimenters is hard,” comforted Jerry. “Where’s my mail? I didn’t hear you say a word about it.”
“Sorry to tell you, but there was none for you, Jeremiah.”
“Your voice sounds sorrowful,” Jerry returned with sarcasm. “Have some candy. I try always to be kind to those who are kind to me.”
“I’ve heard you say so before.” Marjorie was now spreading open the contents of the envelope she had torn across. She glanced at the letter. “Why-eee!” she exclaimed in a strained, unbelieving voice. She went on with a hurried perusal of the letter, then backed into a chair. “Listen to this, Jerry,” she cried out in hurt tones:
“My Dear Miss Dean:
“While it is hard for me to put into words that which I have been asked to tell you I will try to do so as courteously as is possible in the circumstances. I have been chosen by the sophomore class with the exception of a few sophomores, to point out to you that your interference in class matters has created very bad feeling among the sophomores who believe themselves capable of adjusting any differences which may have arisen in the class.
“It is unfortunate that a post graduate of Hamilton College should be guilty of deliberate favoritism. You showed favoritism to Miss Forbes before and have done so since the sophomore election. Miss Forbes received the nomination for the presidency as a result of your “boosting.” Many of the sophomores who voted for her because of a high, but misplaced respect for you, now know their mistake. Miss Forbes deserved the censure she received at the election. The manner in which you and other post-graduates babied her afterward I now venture to criticize.
“The sophomore class are of an almost united opinion that they may be trusted to carry on their business wisely and with justice to all. I am confident that, released from any responsibility you may have taken upon yourself regarding them, you will have more time to pursue your own important affairs.
“Sincerely,
“Louise May Walker.”
“Don’t let a little thing like that bother you,” Jerry’s eyes shone with sympathy in spite of her sturdily careless tone. “A girl who would write such a letter isn’t worth minding. Don’t let it mislead you. The sophs’ united opinion is probably about ten or twelve strong, and not more. Keep right on going, Bean. You shouldn’t worry.” Jerry’s cheerful smile broke broadly out like the sun from behind a cloud.
Marjorie, looking up from a second reading of the letter, returned the smile ruefully. “I care,” she said reflectively, “and I don’t care. I thought I was awfully hurt, but I’m up and on my feet now, brushing off the dust. I wouldn’t have done things differently about Gussie. I suppose favoritism means helping get up the parade and Ronny’s dinner to Gus at Baretti’s. We would have helped the other soph faction with a parade just as quickly if they had come to us. I think I’ll go on with my letters.”
Marjorie tore open the second envelope with decision. A glance at its contends and she exclaimed in righteous indignation: “Why, the idea! This is too ridiculous for words!” She read aloud rapidly:
“Dear Miss Dean:
“We understand that Professor Leonard has asked you to serve again on the senior sports committee. Do you not agree with us that it would be more becoming in you to give place to a member of the senior class. We have been informed that such a decision on your part would be welcomed by the other members of the committee.
“Yours very truly,
“Senior Welfare Committee.”
“That’s a fake,” pronounced Jerry, instantly. “You know and so do I that Barbara Severn and Phil are glad as can be that you are going to serve on committee with them this year. Whoever wrote this bluff didn’t know that. Any student who was here last year knows how chummy you were with both Phil and Barbara. Ha; great head!” Jerry whacked herself smartly on the top of the head. “How rough you are, Jeremiah!” She fell to rubbing her injured head. “I wish Hamilton offered a course in how to be a detective. I have the investigator’s brain.”
“Then take this case and find out who wrote this letter,” Marjorie tossed the second letter into Jerry’s lap. “I’m not going to answer Miss Walker’s letter. It needs no reply.” The sudden firm set of her lovely face showed the girl’s underlying strong character. “Thank fortune,” she said in relief, “this letter is from Miss Susanna. No hateful surprises this time. Her inflection grew unconsciously tender as she read to Jerry:
“Dear, Dear Child:
“There’s a gala day ahead of us. Two weeks from Saturday afternoon we are to go to the dormitory site to assist in the laying of the cornerstone. Peter Graham says it will be ready to lay on that day, November sixth, at three o’clock in the afternoon. Bring the rest of the Travelers to tea on next Sunday evening and we will talk about the great occasion. I am notifying you of it thus long beforehand so that none of the Travelers will make any other engagements for that day. I shall expect you on Sunday afternoon.
“Affectionately,
“Susanne Craig Hamilton.”
Marjorie raised her head from the reading of this comforting letter, her whole face radiant with returned good cheer. “I feel all ‘chirked’ up again. Jeremiah.” She patted the letter and laid it against her cheek. “The persons who wrote those other two letters are only the shadows; mean, skulking shadows that can’t bear the light. Miss Susanna is the substance. That’s why I love her so much.”
“You’re an April Bean,” was Jerry’s indulgent but irrelevant reply. “One minute you cloud over and the next you shine. Now listen to my ambitions. I’m going to shadow some of those skulking shadows you just mentioned and solve the riddle of who writ the wrote. The weary chase may lead me over land and sea, or, at least, all over the campus. Then Bean,” Jerry raised a melodramatic hand above her head, “beloved Bean, your wrongs shall be avenged.”
CHAPTER XXVI. – THE CORNERSTONE
Saturday, the sixth of November, found a buoyant band of Travelers taking the well worn road to the dormitory site. They had decided to walk rather than ride, having agreed that there would be an elation of spirit attending that happy march which the little journey, if made by automobile, could not furnish.
Whatever plans Miss Susanna had made for the auspicious occasion she had not divulged. She had talked with them freely enough concerning the laying of the cornerstone on the Sunday evening on which they had had tea at the Arms. She had playfully ordered her young friends each to think of some good wish they might offer in behalf of the dormitory. Each was then to put her wish on paper, seal the paper in an envelope and have it ready to cast into the hollowed space of the cornerstone itself.
The day before the ceremony Miss Susanna had sent a note to Jerry by Jonas requesting her to be at the Arms by two o’clock on the Saturday afternoon of the eventful day. Jerry had not the least idea of why she should suddenly have come into demand by the erratic old lady of the Arms. To hear Miss Susanna, or rather to hear from her, was to obey. Jerry marched off to the Arms dressed in a most “spiffy” fall suit of a new shade of blue that became her vastly.
At the dormitory where the confusion of demolishment had reigned so long, all was now in order, the order of progressive building. The ground above the vast cellar where the stone foundation would rise had been leveled, all debris had been cleared away and the great cornerstone placed ready for its descent into place.
Close to it a considerable number of workmen were gathered. Now in neat dark clothing instead of overalls. They had been invited by Miss Susanna to attend the ceremony and were to be given a luncheon at Hamilton Arms afterward. This was to be Jonas’ treat. Standing with them, his dark face wreathed in smiles as he talked to Peter Graham was Signor Baretti. Next to the Travelers there was no one more enthusiastic over the dormitory than Baretti.
“Look at Mr. Graham,” were Ronny’s low-spoken words as she and Robin and Marjorie paused three abreast near the cornerstone. “He’s perfectly happy. His face is so bright its positively dazzling.”
“He has the conscientiousness of work well done,” Robin returned in the same soft tone.
“That’s precisely it, Robin,” nodded Marjorie. “I’ve been watching him and trying to analyze his expression.”
“Miss Susanna will be late for the cornerstone act if she doesn’t appear in just four more minutes,” remarked Muriel practically.
“My, what a reverent spirit of mind you are in,” satirized Ronny. “‘Cornerstone act!’ I’m shocked.”
“I hope you recover. Why here comes a car! That’s not Miss Susanna’s turn-out. No horses in sight, either.” Muriel forgot to bicker with Ronny in her excitement over the rapidly approaching car.
As it came nearer the group of girls recognized a familiar figure on the front seat. It was Jerry, and she was driving. Beside her sat Jonas, his laughing features showing what he thought of the surprise.
“Jeremiah!” went up in a merry little shout from the Travelers.
“Yes, Jeremiah.” Jerry smiled complacently on her chums then slid out of the car and opened one of the rear doors of the limousine as Jonas opened the other.
Out of the limousine on one side came the Reverend Compton Greene, of Hamilton Estates, the oldest minister in the county of Hamilton. From the other side emerged Professor Wenderblatt, President Matthews and, last of all, gallantly assisted by the president came Miss Susanna.
Instead of being impressed into silence by sight of distinguished Prexy the Travelers vented a shout which more than energetically expressed their sentiments.
“How do you like my new car, children?” briskly inquired Miss Hamilton, showing frank delight at the prank she had played on her girls. “And how do you like my driver? Well, I had to come to it. I mean about the automobile. Jonas will learn to drive the car. I sha’n’t let him drive much faster than at a crawl. How are you, Peter?” She addressed her old friend with every mark of kindly affection.
“It’s a happy day for me, Susanna,” he said, his bright face faintly flushed and free from worry seemed that of a young man. Only the thick white hair brushed off his forehead proclaimed him to be in the winter of life. “And I have you to thank for it.”
“Thank yourself, Peter; not me. ‘The laborer is worthy of his hire.’ Never forget that. Come, Dr. Greene,” she turned to the old minister; “let me present my young campus friends to you. And here is Signor Baretti who is a loyal supporter of the dormitory cause.”
The last of the Hamiltons introduced the Travelers, one by one to the old minister. She talked animatedly with one of her party, then another. “I felt that I ought not invite Professor Wenderblatt’s daughter today without inviting her distinguished father,” she laughingly told Lillian Wenderblatt. In a pale gray silk gown with a beautiful gray carriage coat lined in white and a gray lace hat trimmed with a cluster of pale silk violets, Miss Susanna appeared to have shed the stiff, repressed air that had formerly hung over her.
This thought sprang to Marjorie’s mind as the old lady walked confidently about among the company and exchanged sociabilities with them. Marjorie looked up to find Jonas’ eyes fixed earnestly upon her. He glanced significantly at Miss Susanna and back to her again. She understood that he wished her to know and share his pleasure at the happiness of “Mr. Brooke’s little girl.”
Presently the company strolled to a place near the corner where the great stone would soon be set in place. There was a brief prayer in behalf of those who had gathered there to view the result of their generous efforts. Then they all sang “Blessed Be the Tie That Binds,” a favorite hymn of Brooke Hamilton’s. Miss Susanna led in her clear old treble. There were speeches from the men, even one from Signor Baretti, who responded as nobly as his limited English would permit. Miss Susanna refused to make a speech, nor could Jonas be induced to make one. Neither did Page and Dean take kindly to speech-making.
President Matthew’s earnest ringing address pleased Miss Susanna most of all. She made mental note that there was nothing mean-spirited about “that man, Matthews.” Then the workmen, under Peter Graham’s direction, came forward to place the stone and the girls and Miss Susanna dropped their envelopes into the hollowed opening. Professor Wenderblatt placed an old German writing, religious in character, with the other envelopes. The rest of the men dropped in gold and silver pieces.
As the huge block of stone was settled in the earthy pocket made for it the company joined hands and sang a verse of “Auld Lang Syne.” Miss Susanna, tears running down her cheeks, shook hands with Peter Graham and then with Jonas. They represented her only friends for many years.
“I am going to tell you all,” she said, wiping her eyes and then her glasses, “that this dear child here is responsible for anything I’ve lately done that Uncle Brooke would have wished done.” She drew Marjorie, who stood beside her, into the curve of her arm. “I cannot carry out his wishes in the way I had once planned for the college. I am sorry. I never used to be sorry. I have grown graciousness, it would seem.” She looked defiantly toward President Matthews.
“Hamilton College is grateful to you already for many favors,” the president returned with a gentle courtesy that caused two bright color signals to flash into Miss Susanna’s cheeks.
“I’ve thought something out,” Marjorie remarked suddenly to Ronny when, a little later, the party of Travelers went their way toward the campus. “It’s about Miss Susanna. I used to think, when first I knew her, that it would be splendid if she’d give the college material for Brooke Hamilton’s biography, even if she didn’t wish to give it. Now I know the gift without the giver would be bare. Nothing she might give the college that had been Mr. Brooke’s would be worth anything without her approval.”
“She will soften some day. Remember what I say,” Ronny predicted. “Look how much she has done already for the college, through us, since we have known her. Did she tell you what she wrote and put in her envelope?”
“No, I forgot to ask her. What was it?”
“She wouldn’t tell me. She said it would break the spell if she told and what she had wished might not come true. Of course she was joking, but she kept what she wrote a secret.”
“We never thought on the night we came to Hamilton, lonely freshies, and went out hungrily to hunt dinner that we’d be building a dormitory not far from where we ate our first meal,” Marjorie said musingly.
“What a stormy time we had that year! Now we may enjoy the peaceful pleasure of the P. G.,” Ronny was lightly mocking.
Marjorie smiled to herself. Into her mind had come remembrance of the two disturbing letters she had lately received. Jerry’s efforts to discover the author of the one had been fruitless. Marjorie had proudly ignored the writer of the other. Such letters did not argue well for the “peaceful pleasures of the P. G.”
“Your days of peaceful P. G. pleasure are over, Veronica Browning Lynne. You may manage the first show we shall give.”
“‘Let us then be up and doing, with a heart for any fate,’” Ronny quoted, striking an attitude.
“Something like that.” Marjorie caught Ronny’s upraised arm and drew it under her own. Ronny had brought to mind the inspiring old poem she had so greatly loved and clung to in her grammar school days. Now as ever her soul answered the call of it.
How she made it her watchword through the rest of the college year amid many perplexities and vexations will be told in: “Marjorie Dean, Marvelous Manager.”
