Marjorie Dean College Freshman Part 23

Leila and Vera both broke into laughter. Marjorie and Ronny regarded them with mild wonderment.

"Oh, my gracious! Did you know, Ronny, that the thick-headed Sans call you Lind? They are walking about on the campus proclaiming that you are a poor Swedish servant girl who lived with the princ.i.p.al, Miss Someone, I have not the name, of Sanford High School. She pays your expenses here. You are not much, Ronny, so never think you are." Again Leila broke into laughter. "Do poor Swedish servant girls have imported gowns of gray chiffon? I am remembering one of yours."

"They do not, as a rule." Ronny's whole face was alive with mirth. "Now who could have started that absurd tale?" She turned to Marjorie.

"I don't know." Marjorie looked troubled. Incidental with Leila's recital, Jerry's remarks concerning being "looked up" by the Sans had returned to her. "Part of that amazing information must have come from some one in Sanford who wanted to be malicious. Not the Lind part. That is funny." Her sober features relaxed into an amused smile. "You had better explain to the girls about the servant girl part, Ronny."

"O-h-h!" sighed Ronny. "You tell them, please, Marjorie."

"All right; glad to." Marjorie's revelation of the part Ronny had played during the previous year at high school was received with absorbed attention. When she went on to say that Ronny's father was Alfred Lynne, the noted western philanthropist, Leila gave a sharp little whistle of surprise.

"Oh, the poor Sans!" she chuckled. "Might not your father be able to buy out all their fathers and still have a dollar left?"

"He might," emphasized Ronny, with a companion chuckle. "I haven't made a secret of my ident.i.ty this year. Oh, those simpletons! Well, I shall not disabuse them of their beliefs concerning me. Let them hug them to their hearts if they choose."

"That is not all, girls." Leila's features grew suddenly grave. "The rest has to do with you, Marjorie. We can't get at it. A soph.o.m.ore friend of ours told Vera and me this. She asked us to pa.s.s it on to you.

The Sans are talking you over among the upper cla.s.s girls. Those who will listen, I mean. Our friend heard it from a soph who is about half sn.o.b, half democrat. One of the Sans received a letter from someone who seems to know all about your town and you, Marjorie. The letter is making mischief. There is something against your high school record in it. We have found out that much. We believe in you. We would like to know what you wish done concerning it."

As Leila continued speaking, Marjorie had turned very white. It was the white of righteous wrath. "There is only one person I know in Sanford who would write such a letter," she said, her voice thick with anger. "I mean Rowena Farnham, Ronny. How she happens to be in touch with the Sans I do not know. It isn't surprising. She is ill-bred, unfair and untruthful; a girl, who, without knowing me, tried to make trouble for me on her very first day at high school. I will find out who has that letter and make the person read it to me. Then I shall post a notice on the bulletin board saying that an untruthful, injurious letter is being circulated at Hamilton about me. I will not allow such a letter to gain headway!" Her tones rose in pa.s.sionate protest.

"Easy, now. Don't worry." Leila's hand, warm and rea.s.suring, closed over Marjorie's clenched fingers. "You can't make the Sans give up the letter, Marjorie. The ring king of 'em has it. Leslie Cairns is carrying this outrage on. I believe you are right about this Farnham person.

Where is she now?"

"At boarding school, I suppose. She went away to school last year. The Farnhams have a cottage at the sea sh.o.r.e. It is about ten miles from Severn Beach. That's where the Macys always go. Maybe Miss Cairns met Rowena there," Marjorie speculated. "I am going to tell you the whole story of my trouble with Rowena Farnham. Then you will see for yourselves the sort of a person she is."

It was a long story Marjorie had to tell. It was listened to with deep interest. Ronny had already heard the details of it from her G.o.d-mother.

"Whatever she has said against me she has made up. That doesn't remedy things; just to know yourself that it is all untrue," she concluded almost piteously. "I didn't wish such troubles to creep into my college life like hideous snakes."

"It remedies matters when you have some one to fight for you," a.s.serted Ronny, her gray eyes steely with purpose. "I am going to make an ally of Miss Remson. Now this is my plan. I shall ask her to notify all the students that she wishes them to come to the living room at a certain time, on a certain evening. They will all respond for they will think it is something concerning their own welfare. Then I shall rise and lay down the law. You won't need to resort to the bulletin board, Marjorie.

We will quash the whole thing right in the living room of Wayland Hall."

"That will be best," nodded Vera. "Miss Remson will be there and she won't stand any nonsense from the Sans. She doesn't need to accept their applications for rooms at the Hall next year."

"Well they know it," put in Leila. "Remember we shall all be there to support you, Ronny. We will rage like lions at your command."

"I shall not need it. I mean I can forge through alone. I shall love your support." Ronny's face had taken on the old mysterious expression.

Too much engrossed in her own sense of injury, Marjorie did not notice this.

"My advice to you, Marjorie, is-act as though you had never seen any of the Sans when you meet them," counseled Vera. "The sooner we can call the house together the better. It is easier to spread scandal than to crush it. We must lose no time."

"This is Monday," mused Ronny. "Friday night will be best, I think."

"That is late, Ronny," objected Leila. Marjorie also regarded her chum with somber anxiety.

"It must be then," Ronny made firm reply. "Trust me in this. I have my own reasons for setting the date for Friday. There is one little item in my plan that I am not going to speak of just yet. All I can say is that it will be of great help when the time comes."

CHAPTER XXVII.-THE SECOND VICTORY.

That particular week seemed the longest to Marjorie she had ever spent.

While she could only guess that the damaging letter held by Leslie Cairns was from Rowena Farnham, she was quite positive that there was no one else who would be mean-spirited enough to write it. Her high school record entirely clear, still it would have to be proven. She had been vilified by Rowena, and lies about her published among the students of Hamilton. Unchecked, there was no telling how wide a circulation it might gain.

Jerry, who had been told of the trouble, was ready to descend upon the entire college and vanquish it single-handed. Muriel and Lucy were no less incensed. As for Miss Remson, she was for vindication on Friday night. Being as shrewd as she was good, she merely posted a notice on the house board requesting every student at the Hall to meet her in the living room at eight o'clock on Friday evening. All attempts to find out from her the nature of the meeting were fruitless. She kept her own counsel. The Sans, not wishing to curtail their chances for next year's accommodations, prudently decided to attend in a body.

"It is better to meet her, girls," Natalie Weyman urged. "She won't keep us long. She has some idiotic bee in her bonnet that is aching to buzz.

We had best humor her."

"It isn't my policy to humor anyone," objected Leslie Cairns.

"Except Lola Elster," cut in Natalie with jealous sarcasm.

"That will be about all from you," retorted Leslie, insolence animating her heavy features.

"Oh, really!" flashed back Natalie, ready for battle. "How long since you acquired any authority over me?"

"Forget it," advised Joan Myers wearily. "All you two have done this evening is quarrel. I thought we were to meet in Nat's room for a good time, not a general row."

"Nat is to blame," muttered Leslie. "Let her be a little less waspish and I will try to get along with her. This is no time for us to fuss. I have been a good friend to Nat. She forgets that."

"I don't," icily contradicted Natalie. "Only I won't take dictation from my father and mother, let alone my friends."

"Drop it, then, and listen to me." Leslie still continued to dictate, but in a modified tone. This was not lost on Natalie. She bore it, however, in discreet silence. "It is time to start on that Dean girl. I mean, to do some talking. We must catch her out on the campus and rag her a little. Leave it to me. I know how to begin on her. The rest of you, who happen to be along, can join in. Notice what I say and how I say it."

By the merest chance, Marjorie's path did not cross that of the Sans during the early part of the week. On Wednesday, after cla.s.ses, she saw a number of them far down the drive, hurrying toward the Hall. Within a few yards of the steps, she entered the house and was opening the door of her room when she heard their voices in the lower hall. She tried not to think of the blight which hung over her, but she could not throw off a sense of heavy-heartedness such as she had not experienced since the time when Lucy Warner had chosen to disbelieve her word. Of all her chums, Lucy longed most to help her. She was understanding now how much her disbelief had made Marjorie suffer. Nothing could be done until Friday night, and the work of clearance lay in Veronica's capable hands.

Friday dawned, clear and sunshiny. Marjorie hailed the day with relief.

That evening would end her suspense. It was time it ended, she thought.

She had received signs of what might lead to partial coventry on the part of a number of upper cla.s.s students. She mentally set them down as girls whom she would take a just pleasure in avoiding, later on, when the smudge had been erased from her escutcheon.

From Ronny she had learned that Miss Remson expected a full attendance in the living room that evening. The brisk little manager was up in arms at the affair and declared that she would lend every effort to stamp out the rumor. "These young women are becoming insufferable," she confided to Ronny. "Between you and me, they are not going to room at Wayland Hall next year unless the management should change hands."

On Friday afternoon Marjorie hurried from the laboratory, where she had been at work during the last recitation period of the afternoon, and set off at a rapid walk across the campus. Her hands were stained from experimentations, and she was anxious to bathe and dress for the evening before dinner. She had thought of wearing a dark green cloth gown, fur-trimmed, as the most inconspicuous dress she owned. She was greatly depressed at the idea of being dragged again into prominence.

Nevertheless, no one could have persuaded her not to go on and thresh the matter out with those who had sought to injure her.

Influenced by her thoughts, her face showed a sternness which seldom visited it. A fairly strong east wind which had risen and blew against her caused her to bow her head to it a trifle. Enwrapped in her somber reflections, she was over half way to the Hall when the sound of voices smote her ears. Looking up quickly, she saw a bevy of girls coming toward her. She recognized them as Sans. More, that she was their objective. She could not avoid them, nor did she wish to do so. She simply kept on walking until within a few feet of them.

"Steady there, Joan!" suddenly drawled a voice Marjorie knew and disliked. "Be careful. Don't walk over the college beauty. Why, _good afternoon_, Miss Bean! Oh, I beg your pardon; Dean, I believe is correct. A fine day, isn't it? I imagine it is much colder in Sanford. A fine little town, I hear. It has such a splendid high school. One has to have a high standard of honor to be admitted to it. If one cheats in examinations or does anything dishonest one is expelled from school.

Just like that!" Leslie struck her hands smartly together. "One really should be very careful. Even if one has been expelled and then happened to get back into this wonderful high school, through influence, the story of one's dishonesty is likely to travel into college."

"Yes, I have heard that, too," chimed in Natalie Weyman. "We should be delighted to hear your opinion, Miss Dean. Don't be in a hurry. We have been told that you can make the prettiest little speeches. Make a speech now."

"Speech! Speech!" chorused the others, simulating avid enthusiasm. Very innocently they drew nearer, as though partially to hem her in.

"Oh, she _doesn't care_ to make a speech now, girls," sneered Dulcie Vale. "Too bad! We really ought to take her down to the Colonial and blow her off to one of our real dinners. I doubt if you could get one like these specials to the San Soucians in Sanford. We haven't yet had the honor of escorting the college beauty about the campus."