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Leslie forgot the rôle she had essayed to play of light good humor. Her famous scowl, heavy and disfiguring showed itself. Blondie was not impressed by her slang, her troubles or her money. “You don’t want a maid at college,” she scoffed gruffly. “I wouldn’t be bothered with one, even coming here from Newport. I sent my maid on a vacation.”

“I wish Celeste were with me,” Doris obstinately repeated. As if determined to be contrary she continued. “There’s one girl at the Hall that I’d not call baby-booby. She is really distingué. I don’t recall her name. She said to me that she was born in Ireland and – ”

“Leila Harper!” was Leslie’s interrupting exclamation. “She is clever as a wizard, and a terror. She’s crazy about Miss Dean and her gang. Look out for her. I don’t care to gossip, but perhaps I’d better tell you some things about that crowd. You ought to know them. After luncheon why not take a spin with me in my car? Maybe you’ve seen it. It’s white, and a dream. I’d love to have you come along.”

Leslie had forced back her rising irritation and turned pleasant again.

“Thank you, but – ” Doris hesitated. She regarded Leslie with a thoughtful, innocent air which was a mask she assumed. Behind it she studied Leslie’s ugly, almost grotesque features and the expensive luxury of her costume. Self, the little inner deity Doris worshipped, bade her accept the invitation and enjoy the ride. If she did not approve afterward of Leslie it would be easy enough to snub her roundly. “I’ll come with you. It’s no end kind in you to ask me,” she accepted without enthusiasm.

“So glad to have you.” Leslie managed to keep sarcastic inflection out of her reply. She was already beginning to discover that Blondie was “certainly a selfish proposition.” Still, try as she might where could she have found another girl so well suited to her purpose?

“Great work,” she congratulated herself as the two girls emerged from the Ivy to where the white car stood in all its creamy, glittering glory. “Blondie is down on Remson, can’t stand Bean and the Bean stalks and she lives at Wayland Hall. She knows me and we’re going to be chummy. It’s as good as a private wire between me and the Hall. Can you beat it?”

CHAPTER XIX. – GENTLEMAN GUS

“Marjorie Dean-n! Oo-oo; oo-oo! Mar-r-jo-r-ie D-e-an!”

Marjorie turned sharply as the long resonant call was borne to her ears on the crisp fall air. Speeding toward her across the campus came a tall girl, hands cupped to her lips. She was running with a certain individual, energetic swing of body which Marjorie recognized as belonging to but one student at Hamilton. Sight of her brought a sunny smile to Marjorie’s somewhat serious face.

“Gussie Forbes,” she cried, “are you really here at last. She held out both hands to the tall handsome sophomore whose own face was radiant.

“I am, but I’m surprised to think that I ever reached here.” Gussie grasped the welcoming hands and shook them with vigor. “I’ve been at Wayland Hall about fifteen minutes. I asked where you were, first thing. Miss Remson said she thought you were somewhere on the campus, so out I hustled to try to find you.”

“Faithful Gussie. What can I do to reward such devotion?” laughed Marjorie.

“Come back to the Hall with me and be the feature of a rejoicing bow-wow in Flossie’s and my room,” came the prompt return. “We’re all simply perishing to see you and the rest of the Sanfordites. Is Miss Lynde back? I never dare call her Ronny, though I think she’s a perfect dear.” Gussie linked an arm in one of Marjorie’s and began towing her gently toward the Hall.

“Ronny’s here. She stopped at Sanford for us on her way from California. Jerry, Lucy, Ronny and I came back together. Muriel’s not coming back this year.”

“Oh, dear!” wailed Gussie. “That’s bad news. Muriel is such a lot of fun. I only knew her well toward the last of the college year, but we were getting quite chummy.”

“We’re all sorry Muriel isn’t with us.” Marjorie’s face fell at the remembrance. “We’re going to miss her dreadfully. We tried to coax her to come with us, but she said ‘no’ and wouldn’t give a reason for saying it. She’s been very mysterious about it.”

“Haven’t you the least idea of why she isn’t coming back?” questioned Gussie curiously.

“No. She insists that she isn’t engaged to be married. That would be her strongest reason for not coming back.”

“Aggravating old goose,” was Gussie’s fond opinion of Muriel. “Look out she isn’t simply kidding you. I’ll bet she’s engaged.”

“You asked for Ronny. There she is now on the steps.” Marjorie waved a gay signal to Veronica Lynde, who answered it in kind.

“She sent me a set of ducky postcards from Lower California this summer. I was so surprised. I never thought she’d do that.” Gussie spoke humbly.

“You’ve a bad case of too much respect for Ronny,” laughed Marjorie. “If she discovers it she will give you a good shaking.”

“I wish she would,” sighed Gussie. “I’d feel more at home with her afterward. I behaved like a savage to you last year. I’m sure Miss Lynde hasn’t forgiven me for that. She was pleasant with me after I turned civilized, but never friendly.”

A smile dimpled the corners of Marjorie’s mouth. “It’s all right,” she cheered downcast Gussie. “You’re friends with Ronny, only you didn’t know it. She loathes writing letters, or even postcards. You’ve had the sign and seal of her friendship.”

“Ha-a-a-a! Tell you that’s fine news,” Gussie instantly brightened.

As the two girls neared Ronny she came down the steps and advanced to meet them. “So glad to see you again.” She greeted Augusta with a warmth which completely assured the doubting sophomore of her friendliness.

“And what have you been doing, Miss M. M. Dean?” she humorously interrogated Marjorie.

“I’d started for Silverton Hall to see Robin and Phil. Phil has a great idea she wants to tell Robin and me about. Now the great idea will have to wait. I’m going to a pow-wow in Gussie’s room.”

“No one invited me to a pow-wow.” Ronny turned reproachful eyes on Gussie. “I enjoy pow-wows far more than Marjorie does.”

“I invite you to one this minute. Excuse my seeming neglect. I’ve been at the Hall just long enough to set down my luggage and start out to find Marjorie. Double delighted to find your Highness, too.” Gussie made Ronny an exaggerated, respectful bow. Now sure of Ronny’s approval she entered blithely into the spirit of Veronica’s teasing remarks.

“Will you ask Jerry and Lucy to come and meet the gang in my room?” Gussie was in a pleasant flutter of excitement as the trio reached the second floor of the Hall. “Flossie went for Leila and Vera. They’re probably at the party now.”

“I’ll answer for Jerry, and trot her to the pow-wow directly,” Marjorie promised.

“Lucy’s still in our room. I think. You may expect us.” Ronny returned Gussie’s salute with one equally extravagant and disappeared into her room.

“She’s a perfect love! I won’t need that shaking after all,” Gussie confided to Marjorie with sparkling eyes as the two separated briefly.

Marjorie hurried lightly down the hall and opened the door of Room 15. “Hello, Jeremiah,” she greeted; “Gussie Forbes is back. We’re invited to a pow-wow in her room this very moment.”

“Well, well, well; you don’t mean it.” Jerry Macy looked up with an incredulous grin from the letter she was writing.

“Yes, I do mean it.” Marjorie pounced upon Jerry and tried to pull her up from her chair. Jerry grinningly braced herself and remained firm.

“You can’t do it, Marvelous Manager. I’m someone you can’t manage. So Gentleman Gus is going to have a pow-wow! Shall Jeremiah attend it, or finish her letter? Which? What?” Jerry had applied the nickname “Gentleman Gus,” to Augusta Forbes because of the number of male rôles the tall, broad-shouldered sophomore had played in campus shows during her freshman year.

“You’ll attend it,” was Marjorie’s threatening prediction as she began a fresh onslaught upon her apparently stationary chum. “If I can’t haul you up from that chair I’ll go for reinforcements. Then we’ll see what’ll happen.”

“Just see what’s happened already.” Jerry sprang up from the chair. “Why, Bean, respected Bean, excuse me. I nearly tipped you over, didn’t I?” she innocently apologized as she bumped smartly against her roommate.

“Oh, never mind. You don’t know any better,” Marjorie made charitable allowance as she tucked her arm in Jerry’s and moved resolutely toward the door.

In front of the closed door of Gussie’s room Marjorie smiled and raised a finger. Inside a merry babel of fresh young voices told them the pow-wow was in full swing. Marjorie tapped lightly on the door. No one answering, she turned the knob and she and Jerry entered the room. Ronny, Lucy, Leila and Vera formed a group around which the five sophomore chums known to their friends as the Bertramites had gathered.

At sight of Marjorie and Jerry a mild shout went up from the assembled nine. Gussie made a jubilant dash from the group to receive them.

“For goodness sake, girls, moderate your whoops of joy,” cautioned Flossie Hart when she could make herself heard above the commotion. “The Hall is full of young and timid freshies. This warning isn’t meant for you P. G.’s,” she laughingly excepted. “Only the Bertramites are included in it.”

“A pow-wow is a pow-wow. I’m surprised at you, Floss,” reproved Calista Wilmot with a giggle.

“Remember eats are necessary at a pow-wow. Trot out whatever you happen to have in your suitcases that’s eatable,” Gussie ordered. “I’ve a five-pound box of chocolate nuts. Next? That means Floss, Calista, Charlotte and Anna. The rest of you are company and have to be entertained.”

Gussie cleared the center table with one or two energetic sweeps of the arm. Her chums began a prompt diving into bags and suitcases for their contributions to the feast. Calista produced a pasteboard box of macaroons, Flossie one of salted almonds, Anna a sweet grass basket of stuffed dates and Charlotte Robbins a box of home-made maple and chocolate fudge and a large jar of tiny sour pickles.

“There.” Gussie arranged the toothsome array of delicacies on the table to her satisfaction. “Here’s to our noble P. G.’s,” she proposed, flourishing an arm. “Long may they wave. Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!”

The five Bertramites came out lustily on the hurrahing. The room rang with their gleeful shouts.

The echoes of them had hardly died out before the six guests were returning the compliment quite as vociferously. They continued to make plenty of pleasant noise as they sampled the sweets and rushed from one topic of girl interest to another.

“Someone is rapping on the door.” Leila’s quick ears were the first to catch the sound.

“I’ll go.” Gussie hurried to the door, a pickle in one hand, a square of maple fudge in the other. She transferred the pickle to the fudge hand and opened the door.

“Why, Miss Remson!” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Come in. We’re having a jollification. You are just in time for it.”

“Glad to join in the fun.” The manager’s tones were utterly friendly. “I’m the bearer of wet-blanket news, though. Miss Monroe, next door to this room, has just complained of the noise going on here. She has an examination in mathematics tomorrow and insists upon quiet so that she can study. I’m sorry, children.” A good-humored smile overspread her face. “You’ll have to try to play more quietly.”

“Why, the idea! We haven’t been here an hour yet, and it’s so early in the afternoon!” Gussie burst forth half resentfully. “Pardon me, Miss Remson. I don’t mean that for you. I mean it for fussy Miss Monroe, whoever she may be. Talk about pure freshie nerve!” Gussie’s eyes traveled the group of now silent students for sympathy. She found it in the common expression of blank, half-sheepish surprise written large on her friends’ faces.

“Miss Monroe isn’t a freshman, Augusta,” the manager corrected gently. “She is trying the examinations this week which will admit her to the sophomore class. I explained to her that you and Miss Hart were sophomores, hoping she might make allowance.”

“A would-be soph, and complaining of the sophs! What a loyal addition to the sophie class she will be,” Florence Hart cried sarcastically.

“Not wishing to be too inquisitive, Miss Remson, may I ask if Miss Monroe insisted you should come and tell us what a noisy crowd we were?” Leila inquired smoothly.

“Yes, Leila; she did,” the little woman replied in her concise way.

“Now why, I wonder, did she not come and tell us herself?” Leila’s tones were silky, but her blue eyes had narrowed.

Miss Remson laughed. “Clever Leila,” she regarded the Irish girl with approbation. “I may as well tell you girls frankly. Miss Monroe put it to me as my duty to reprimand you. I hope you won’t consider my enforced word of caution in the nature of a reprimand,” she ended with the independence of affection.

A chorus of loyal assurances went up which caused her to raise a premonitory hand and incline her head in the direction of the next room. After stopping long enough to eat a square of fudge and two pickles with true schoolgirl appetite she left behind her an ominously quiet crowd of girls.

“A nice reputation you have as a P. G., Jeremiah Macy.” Jerry severely addressed herself in the mirror of a dressing table. “Just think” – she turned accusingly toward Lucy Warner – “even Luciferous Warniferous, the Sanford sage, got a hot shot for being too boisterous.”

“Don’t blame me. Blame the company I keep,” chuckled Lucy.

“Luciferous Warniferous couldn’t be boisterous if she tried,” defended Ronny. “She hasn’t said half a dozen words since I led her into this room. I know she hasn’t whooped once. Can you whoop, Luciferous? That’s what I’d love to know?” Ronny peered owlishly at Lucy.

“Don’t give a demonstration of it till we are out on the campus,” warned Anna Perry. Her inflection was sarcastic. “It’s not safe here.”

“I sha’n’t give one at any time or at any place,” Lucy retorted with great firmness.

“The very idea,” scolded Flossie Hart. “Why, we made twice as much noise when we first came to the Hall last year and no one made a fuss.”

“I won’t stand it.” Gussie Forbes shook back her short curls, squared her shoulders and linked her hands behind her back in the attitude her chums knew meant battle. “Can’t help it if this Miss Monroe is going to be a soph. She might have known we’d subside. She could have waited a little to see. I won’t be mean enough to say I hope she flunks in math. But I’ll say she’ll flunk in popularity if she can’t live and let live.”

CHAPTER XX. – BETTER LATE THAN NEVER

That evening in Ronny’s room Leila, Vera, Marjorie and Jerry gathered for one of their old-time “Traveler” meetings. The arrival of Ronny’s trunks had furnished a treat of Mexican sweets, tempting and varied. There were all sorts of candied tropical fruits, strange toothsome nut pastes and a golden delicious sweet called dulce. There were even candied sweet potatoes.

“Get busy and help yourselves,” Ronny directed as she placed the large square tin box of confections on the table before her chums. “I’ve a supply of Mexican candy on hand. I’m going to take this box to l’enfant angelique.” She smiled as she referred to Gussie Forbes by the title the chums had privately re-named her after her change of heart during her freshman year. “Back in a minute.” Ronny flitted from the room burdened with a second square tin box of sweets.

“Gentleman Gus needs a reward of good conduct for keeping her temper this afternoon. She was all ready to turn the pow-wow into a real tomahawking party with one blonde scalp for a trophy,” was Jerry’s opinion.

“I expected an explosion,” Marjorie confessed with a smile; “but none came. Gussie is splendid, I think.”

“How perfectly foolish in Miss Monroe to take such a ridiculous stand! I can’t help criticizing her for it,” Vera said disapprovingly. “In the face of not knowing whether she will pass her exams or not.”

“If she flunks in the soph exams, she can still try for freshie estate,” Lucy reminded.

“It seems she likes no one but herself,” Leila now made dry observation. “We thought in the summer it was only the four of us at the Hall and Kathie who were not to her taste. Now we may banish our sorrow. We are no worse off than the rest of the college.”

“Such a relief to my mind,” snickered Jerry. During the three or four days that the Sanford group of girls had been back at Hamilton she had seen Doris Monroe half a dozen times and had formed one of her peculiar dislikes to the self-centered young woman. “Behave Jeremiah.” She gave one plump wrist a resounding whack. “Remember the stranger; et-cætera; et-cætera.”

“But never think about your old friends.” A tall girl in a gray sports coat and hat, her charming face alive with laughter, had opened the door on Jerry’s curtailed quotation of Hamilton’s first tradition.

“Muriel Harding; you rascal of rascals!” Jerry reached the newcomer at a bound. She caught her about the waist and pranced Muriel over the floor in a wild dance which landed both against the opposite wall with force.

“Call off Jeremiah,” begged Muriel mirthfully. “She’s too rough to belong in polite society. The rest of you aren’t much more ladylike,” she called out as a determined quartette hemmed her in and attempted to embrace her in a body.

“You deserve rough house tactics,” declared Jerry. The happy light in her eyes told another story. The other girls’ faces also reflected their pleasure in Muriel’s return.

“You mysterious old goose. I can’t think of anything to say to you that would be really disrespectful,” Marjorie assured the broadly beaming Traveler. “We’ve missed you dreadfully. I’m so glad you’re back.”

“So am I. I was fairly sure she wouldn’t desert us,” Lucy said with a wise nod of her dark head. “She used to make fun of me so much that I learned her tricks. I had an idea all the time that she couldn’t stay away from this illustrious crowd.”

“How sweet in you all to miss me.” Muriel wept a few mock tears of appreciation into her handkerchief. “As for you, Luciferous, you know too much.” She treated Lucy to a glare of displeasure which broke up in mirth. Lucy’s rare, childish giggle invariably sent Muriel into peals of laughter.

In the midst of the hilarity Ronny re-appeared and a fresh burst of welcoming began. Once or twice it occurred to Marjorie that they were making almost as much commotion as had the party of girls in Gussie’s room that afternoon. Freshmen occupied the rooms on either side of Ronny and Lucy. They were evidently less fussy than was Miss Monroe.

“Now tell us all about it,” Marjorie coaxed when Muriel had been fondly divested of coat and hat and established in the room’s most comfy chair.

“All about what?” Muriel pretended wide-eyed innocence.

“You know; just go right ahead and talk,” Jerry coolly invited. “No use in asking us questions.”

“Um-m-m. Perhaps you are right, my dear Jeremiah,” Muriel conceded sweetly. “Well, I thought it would be wonderful to be missed. I knew that neither you, Ronny, nor you, Jeremiah had proper regard for me. I had my doubts about Lucy. I knew Bean was a kindly creature who would at least think she missed me. But I wanted all of you to feel the heart-breaking sadness of not seeing me around and circulating merrily on the campus. So I decided to put you all to the test, and – ”

“Fakir,” hissed Ronny making a serpentine dive for Muriel’s chair and landing on an arm of it. She promptly clapped a hand over Muriel’s mouth. “You sha’n’t say another word until you promise to tell us the real reason.”

Muriel uttered a series of unintelligible remarks behind Ronny’s hand. She held up her own right hand finally as a sign of compliance. Ronny reluctantly took away the barrier to speech.

“This is the truth, girls, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I almost got myself engaged to be married, but not quite.” Muriel’s pretty features grew rosy as she made this naive confession. “It was on that account I was so mysterious about coming back. It’s Harry Lenox, of course. I may marry him someday.” Muriel waved an indefinite hand. “Really, I didn’t know what I wanted to do until the last minute. After you girls were gone from Sanford I couldn’t bear to be left out of building the dormitory and switching around the campus as a venerable P. G. So here I am. Yours truly.” Muriel favored her audience with one of her wide captivating smiles.

“Much ado about nothing,” Jerry commented derisively.

“Precisely,” beamed Muriel. “Let me return the compliment. ‘Shallow brooks babble loudest.’”

“I think Miss Remson said she had half a room left, Muriel,” Vera said presently when the excitement attending Muriel’s unexpected arrival had abated.

“Oh, glorious! I hadn’t dare hope for a vacancy at the Hall. I thought I’d be lucky to get into any campus house. I suppose the Hall will be full of freshies this year.”

“Yes. Some of them haven’t arrived yet. We are going to do station duty tomorrow. Help Gussie and the Bertramites out with station detail,” Marjorie told Muriel.

“I haven’t seen Miss Remson yet. The maid let me in. I’ll go down stairs now. My bag and suitcase are in the hall.” Muriel rose and walked to the door. “Come on, gang, and go with me,” she crooked an inviting finger.

Down the stairs trooped the seven girls, Muriel and Marjorie in the lead. They swarmed Miss Remson’s tiny office where the manager sat writing. Her surprise at seeing Muriel was no less than that of the girls had been.

“Vera said you had half a room still open,” was Muriel’s immediate anxious cry. “If I may have it I’ll consider myself the luckiest person under the sun.”

Miss Remson sat back in her chair and surveyed Muriel with a perplexed frown. “Yes, there is half a room still vacant,” she said, her small keen face full of doubt: “half of Miss Monroe’s room.” Her gaze traveled to Marjorie and rested inquiringly on the latter’s concerned features.

“Oh-h-h!” went up in a breath from the enlightened group.

“What’s the matter?” Muriel appeared mystified. “Who’s Miss Monroe?” Repetition of the name jogged memory. “Oh, yes; I remember. She’s the pretty girl you told me about; the fairy-tale princess; beautiful but icy; et-cætera, et-cætera; as our esteemed roughneck, Jer – . Excuse me. I mean our valued friend Jerry Macy loves to say.”

Far from being dismayed at the prospect of an uncongenial roommate Muriel accepted the situation with her usual buoyant spirit. “What’s the use in worrying?” she demanded after she had asked numerous questions about her prospective roommate and received nothing but the kindest information her friends could truthfully give. “I know you girls are trying to live up to tradition. I can guess a good deal between the lines about my new roommate.”

“Then you are quite sure you wish to make the arrangement, Muriel?” anxiously asked Miss Remson.

“Sure as can be,” Muriel flippantly asserted. “I choose to spend my declining P. G. years at the Hall. Shall I turn down such a chance to flourish in the bosom of my friends?”

“You may have my half of Jerry’s and my room, Muriel,” Marjorie made sudden astounding offer. “I’ll room with Miss Monroe instead of you.” Marjorie was not sanguine of Muriel’s proposed venture. She knew that Muriel and Jerry would be happy together. She was afraid impulsive high-strung Muriel might soon find herself in difficulties. She did not anticipate any smoother sailing for herself. She had reflected before making the offer so characteristic of her unselfish soul that companionship with the strange, unfriendly girl might bring Miss Monroe into a better understanding of Hamilton College.

“Nope.” Muriel shook a smiling head. “I’m going to choose the enchanted iceberg for a roommate and see what happens. Are you modest enough to believe that Jeremiah would allow me to supplant you as a roommate? Thank you a million times just the same.”

“That’s the way to talk. I never credited you with such reasoning power as you have just displayed, my dear Miss Harding.” Jerry smiled fatuously upon Muriel then transferred her smiles to Marjorie. “You don’t seem to have the least inkling of my deep regard for you. Bean,” she reproved.

“You see the way things are?” Marjorie turned to Miss Remson with a laughing gesture.

“Yes, I see.” The manager rose from her desk. “Pardon me, children. I had best go upstairs and notify Miss Monroe that her roommate has arrived.”

“Tell her she may expect me,” giggled Muriel. “You needn’t say much about me. I’ll astonish her by walking in on her presently with a special P. G. swagger. Nothing succeeds like nerve, you know.” Muriel’s velvety brown eyes were dancing with mischief.

“I’ll back you to win,” were Jerry’s encouraging words. “You have almost as much nerve as I have; perhaps more.”

“I wish I could believe you.” Muriel was blandly regretful.

“What a waste of good health to worry over that one, Beauty!” Leila pointed derisively at Muriel.

“I should say so,” Ronny agreed with teasing stress. “I’m sorry for the enchanted iceberg.”

Marjorie listened and laughed at the exchange of repartee. At the same time she wondered, if, after all, Muriel Harding might not prove to be the best possible roommate for the lovely, ungracious fairy-tale princess.