"I'll say she is," returned Leslie. "I can't endure the sight of her and she knows it. You noticed she did not stay long. Lucky you knew Joan and Harriet. I'd be sorry for you if you had been roped in by that crowd of muffs." She laughed disagreeably.

"It would take more than that crowd of muffs, as you call them, to rope me in," boasted the other girl. "I saw at once they were not the kind that make good pals. Not enough to them, you know. Besides, I prefer not to be too friendly with a stranger until I know her social position."

Leslie Cairns regarded her meditatively, then held out her hand. "Shake hands on that," she invited. "You seem to have some sense. I hope you will stick to what you have said. If you do, you may count yourself a friend of mine. You will find, after you have been at Hamilton a while, that my friendship amounts to a good deal."

"Oh, I am sure of that," emphasized the freshman. She was not sure at all. What she had shrewdly taken stock of was the cut and material of the English tweed sports suit Leslie was wearing. It was a marvel of expense. It was conspicuous, even among the smart traveling suits of her companions. So were her sports hat and English ties. Leslie's assured manner also impressed her. She decided that this exceedingly ugly but very "swagger" girl must be a person of importance at Hamilton.

Unmistakable gratification looked out from Leslie Cairns' roughly-chiseled features at the freshman's flattering response. Like the majority of the unworthy, she craved flattery. Since she had been denied physical beauty, she built her hopes on attracting admiration by her daring personality. During her freshman year at Hamilton she had acquired a certain kind of popularity by her high-handed methods. Possessed of an immense fortune, and in her own right, she had acquired tremendous power over her particular clique by reason of her money. Leslie never "went broke." The majority of the Sans received liberal allowances from home and spent them even more liberally. Leslie was a good port in time of storm—when she chose to be. Once under obligation to her, she was quite likely, if crossed, to let her debtor feel the weight of her displeasure.

"Did that Miss Dean have anything to say about us?" Leslie casually inquired. Finding herself admired, she preferred to cultivate her new acquaintance rather than devote her attention to those of her class who had come down to the train.

"She said—let me see." Miss Walbert knitted her light eyebrows in an elaborate effort at recollection. "She said she had never met any of you girls and she didn't care for an acquaintance with you. I had asked who you were because I wanted so much to know you. I recognized you girls at once as my kind. Just to see your dandy crowd coming along made me homesick for dear old Welden. I palled with a crowd like that at prep."

"Our little angel, Miss Bean,—I always call her Bean instead of Dean,—doesn't care what she does with the truth," sneered Leslie. "Last fall we came down to the train to meet her crowd. We knew they were greenies from a little one-horse town called Sanford. They were to be at the same campus house as we. A few of us thought we would try to help them. We took my friend, Miss Weyman's, car and went to the station. Missed 'em by about two minutes. They hired a taxi. We felt mortified and went around to this Miss Dean's room to apologize. We were almost frost-bitten. They were so rude I felt ashamed for them. Afterward they started a lot of lies about us that made trouble for us at the Hall."

"My goodness!" fluttered Miss Walbert. "I had a narrow escape, didn't I? I will take pains to steer clear of that whole crowd. I don't know whether I would recognize most of them if I happened to meet them on the campus. I would certainly know Miss Dean."

"Where are you going to live?" Leslie dropped back into her usual indifferent drawl.

"Alston Terrace. I have an exam. in math. to try. I'm pretty sure of staying, though. Is Alston Terrace as nice as the house where you are? What did you say the name of your house was? Could I change and get in there?" There was suppressed eagerness in the last question.

"You could not." Leslie regarded the questioner with a superior smile. "I live at Wayland Hall. Our crowd live there, too. It's the best house on the campus, and hard to get into. It has two drawbacks; an idiot of a manager, and dear Miss Bean and her crowd. We have made complaint against the manager and she may have to go. She's a hateful old fossil and shows partiality. We can't do much about this crowd of which I've been telling you, unless they do something very malicious against us. Just let them start anything, though——" Her small black eyes narrowed unpleasantly.

At this juncture Natalie Weyman appealed to her to corroborate a statement she had just made to one of the juniors who had come down to the train to meet the Sans. Natalie had not been too busy with her friends to note that Leslie had condescended to show interest in the freshman. She, therefore, decided to break up the conversation going on between them. It was bad enough to have Lola Elster to contend with. She did not propose to allow this forward little snip, as she mentally characterized Miss Walbert, any leeway toward Leslie's favor which she could prevent.

"She doesn't like me and I don't like her," was the freshman's conclusion. When speaking to Leslie, Natalie had regarded her out of two very cold gray-blue eyes. The polite smile which had touched her lips was suggestive of frost.

It was the last thing needed to fire Elizabeth Walbert's ambition toward an intimate friendship with Leslie Cairns. She resolved that she would not only be chums with Leslie. Sooner or later she would take up her residence at Wayland Hall. She had always been clever at obtaining whatever she desired. To attain a residence at the Hall might not be so very difficult. At least it was worth the effort. She did not care who might be shoved out in order to make room for her.

Meanwhile Marjorie had safely conducted her second venture in freshmen to the spot where a knot of girls stood patiently awaiting her tardy appearance. Helen alone was missing, having gone into the town on an errand.

"Where were you? We thought you were right behind us. What has become of your blonde freshie? We knew something had happened," was the reception which greeted her and her charge.

"Do blondes change to brunettes in the twinkling of an eye?" laughed Leila, her blue eyes resting very kindly on Marjorie's pretty companion.

"They do not. Miss Walbert deserted me. She knew Miss Myers and Miss Stephens. She went with them." Marjorie made the explanation in a calm, level voice which did not invite present questioning.

"Then we can't count her in with this select aggregation," Vera said dryly. "Helen's gone, too, but her going was legitimate."

"Ah, well. We have gained one and lost one. Let us run off with our gain before someone happens along and coaxes her away from us. Might we not know her by name?" Leila turned to Marjorie with a wide ingratiating smile. The stranger was already regarding Leila with open amusement.

"You shall know her by name at once. You don't have to remind me to introduce her," retorted Marjorie. "I'll present you to her first of all. Miss Impatience, I mean Miss Harper, this is Miss Severn, of Baltimore." Marjorie again went through the ceremony of introduction, this time with smiles and whole-heartedness.

"We are thirteen in number, but who cares?" Leila announced. "Seven to one and six to the other car, Midget. As we aren't in the jitney business we won't come to blows over the one extra fare."

While they were disposing themselves in the two automobiles for the ride to Hamilton College, the sound of high-pitched voices announced the arrival on the scene of the Sans. Three of the juniors who had elected to meet them had driven their own cars to the station. Thus the illustrious Sans did not have to depend on the station's taxicabs.

While Leila would have liked to drive off in a hurry rather than encounter at such close range the girls she so heartily despised, she moved, instead, with the utmost deliberation. She was just climbing into the driver's seat when the small but noisy procession of young women came opposite to her car. Vera sat ready to start, her slender hands resting idly on the wheel as she waited for Leila's signal. The occupants of both cars, save for the freshman from Baltimore, were making a commendable effort to appear impersonal. Miss Severn, of Baltimore, was innocently interested in the newcomers from the fact that they were also students of Hamilton College.

Aside from considerable laughter, which sounded too pointed to be impersonal, the party of arriving juniors strolled past. Among the last came Leslie Cairns. She had insisted on walking with Elizabeth Walbert, greatly to Natalie's vexation. As she lounged past Leila's car she cast an insolent glance at the Irish girl. Leila returned it with an expression so inscrutably Celtic that Leslie hastily removed her gaze to Jerry, who sat beside Leila. She glared an intensity of ill-feeling at Jerry, which the latter longed to return, but did nothing worse than look blank.

Leila drove her car almost savagely around the station yard and out into the wide avenue. Sight of the Sans, particularly Leslie Cairns, had put her momentarily in a bad humor. Her virile Irish temperament forbade her to do other than love or hate with all her strength of being. She hated Leslie as energetically as she adored Marjorie.

"That Miss Walbert makes me sick," was Jerry's incensed comment as they bowled smoothly along the avenue. "I'd like to know just what happened to Marjorie. Of course she will tell us later. The idea of that little shrimp marching past us as though we were a collection of sign posts, particularly after we had treated her so decently. It's a good thing she showed her mettle from the start. Did you notice the way she snubbed my freshman?"

"I did. How, may I ask, do you happen to be out here with me instead of sitting faithfully in the tonneau beside your find?" quizzed Leila.

"Oh, Katherine and Lucy took her away from me. I guess I scared her. She is in Vera's car with them. If you don't enjoy my society, stop the buzz buggy and I will get out and walk. I may lose a pound or two, even if my feelings are hurt."

"It is here you'll stay. Tongue cannot tell how much I enjoy your society," Leila extravagantly assured. "I see you are liking the Sans a little less than ever. I am of the same mind. Did you see Leslie Cairns look at us; first at me, then you? I did not expect them back so soon. For all their private car they met with a tiny reception. Four or five juniors; that is quite different from two years ago."

"Maybe they've come back early to be on the scene and get a stand-in with the freshies," cannily suggested Jerry. "Wouldn't it be funny to see us and the Sans down at the station every day, grabbing the freshies as they came off the train, like a couple of jitney drivers?"

Leila laughed. "They will never go that far. That would take some kindness of heart and consideration. If they rushed the incoming freshies just to spite us, they would soon sicken of their project. They are like the bandarlog in Kipling's Jungle books, they gather leaves only to throw them into the air."

"Some of them will take a trip up into the air this year if they don't mind their own affairs," threatened Jerry. "The freshman crop was small today. We garnered two and the Sans one. I suppose there were some others who were met by students besides ourselves. Marjorie thinks we ought to meet two trains a day, at least. The rest of our committee ought to be here. We could divide up the trains among us. You and Vera are really doing the work of the absent members."

"Say nothing about it. There is little to do this week. Vera and I were talking last night. We should have done this last year. We did not." Leila shrugged disapproval of her own former lack of interest in the welfare of other students.

"Leila," Marjorie leaned forward and called out, "Miss Severn is going to Acasia House. Do you know where Miss Towne is to go?"

"Somewhere off the campus," returned Leila. "Vera has her and her address. We are to take her to her boarding place first."

Miss Towne's boarding house turned out to be a modest two-story brick house about half a mile off the campus. It was one of a scattered row, there being only a few houses in the immediate vicinity of the college. Muriel and Katherine helped her to the door with her luggage. Her friendly escort called her a cordial good-bye from the automobiles, after promising to look her up as soon as she should be fairly settled. She went to her new quarters in a daze of sheer happiness, feeling much as Cinderella must have when she unexpectedly found a fairy God-mother.

Acasia House being Miss Severn's destination, the two cars wound their way in and out of the beautiful campus driveway. At the center drive they separated, Vera taking her car straight to Wayland Hall on account of Selma, Nella and Hortense. Muriel went with them, declining to be parted from her recently regained room-mate.

Leila drove slowly toward Acasia House, endeavoring to give their freshman charge full opportunity to see the campus in its early autumn glory. Brimming with eager enthusiasm, Marjorie pointed out the various halls, the library, the chapel and the campus houses. She was pleased to find her freshman no less enthusiastic than herself over the campus itself. Marjorie took that as another good sign. No one who was really sincere at heart could fail to be impressed by the campus.



CHAPTER VIII.

HER FATHER'S METHODS.

"There is just one thing about it. We have got to get busy." Leslie Cairns made this announcement with special emphasis on the word "got." Her face wore an expression of sullen determination. "Those Sanford goody-goodies are out to do us."

"Out to do us?" repeated Natalie Weyman, with questioning inflection. "What do you mean, Les? I failed to see any particular triumph on their part this afternoon. They merely marched off with a seedy-looking freshie or two. No one we wanted." Natalie shrugged her disdain of the Lookouts' capture. "Too bad that simple-acting Walbert creature didn't stay with dear Miss Bean. We could live without her. I have no use for that girl."

Leslie's eyes narrowed. She banged her dessert spoon on the table with a vicious clang and thrust her chin forward.

"Probably you haven't, Miss Jealousy," she sneered. "I fail to see anything simple about Miss Walbert. She has three times as much sense as certain persons I could name."

"Meaning me, I suppose." Natalie's tone was equally sneering. She was white with anger, principally at having been called "Miss Jealousy." Leslie had often privately accused her of being jealous-hearted. This was the first time she had ever taunted her so openly of it.

"Won't you two please stop scrapping?" begged Margaret Wayne in a tired voice. "I thought we came to the Colonial for a pleasant evening. It has been anything but that, with you two snarling back and forth at each other like a couple of tigers at the Zoo."

"Much obliged for the compliment," flung back Natalie in frost-bitten accents.

"Oh, you are entirely welcome." Margaret laid provoking stress on the "welcome."

"Looks as if the scrap might be trusted to you, Wayne. You certainly can hold up your end of it." Leslie called her friends by their last names merely to be insolent. "Anyone can fuss with Nat, you know. She has the sweet disposition of a very sour pickle most of the time."

"Since that is your opinion of me, I am surprised you ever cared to be friends with me at all." Very near to tears, Natalie managed to preserve an offended dignity which had more effect upon Leslie than any sarcastic retort might have had. Nor was Natalie unaware of this. Momentarily angered, she had made a strenuous effort to choke back the biting words just behind her lips. She always remembered one cold fact in time. It never paid in the long run to quarrel with Leslie.

"Oh, you are not so bad when one has grown used to you," Leslie patronizingly conceded. "Excuse me for losing my temper and telling you the plain truth about yourself."

Natalie's color rose. She hated Leslie's patronizing insolence more than she hated her open vituperation. She would have liked to say that she was amazed to learn that Leslie ever told the plain truth about anything. Prudence warned her to let the quarrel drop.

"I accept your apology, Leslie," she said with great sweetness, entirely ignoring the sting of Leslie's remarks.

"What?" Leslie stared. A faint snicker arose from two or three of the other girls. "You seem to have recovered your wits again, Nat," she said with elaborate carelessness. "We are quits, I guess, for the present."

"Thank goodness!" This from Joan Myers. "Now that peace has been restored, perhaps you will condescend to tell us what you started out to say, Leslie."

"De-lighted." Leslie bowed ironically. "To jump into the middle of the subject at once, I asked you seven Sans to this party tonight for a purpose. We eight girls are the founders of the Sans. I told all the other Sans that I wasn't going to ask them here tonight, and not to get their backs humped about it. I promised 'em a big party at the Ivy Saturday night. There is a private dining room there with a long table that will seat the whole eighteen of us. I don't know whether they liked it or not, and I don't care. It was up to us to talk things over and let them into it afterward."

"Some of the girls had other engagements anyway," put in Joan Myers. "I know Anne Dawson and Loretta Kelly were invited to a senior blow-out at Alston Terrace."

"Well, that's neither here nor there," retorted Leslie somewhat rudely. It did not please her to learn that any of the Sans had received more attention from the seniors than herself. Thus far she had not been the recipient of an invitation to dine from a senior. She was still inwardly sore at the lack of attention they had met with on their arrival at Hamilton station.

"I don't think it is a very good policy for we eight founders of the Sans to keep to ourselves too much," deprecated Dulcie Vale, regardless of Leslie's views on the subject. "The whole eighteen of us will have to stick together and work hard if we expect to keep the upper hand of things here at Hamilton."

"Oh, forget it," ordered Leslie brusquely. "Your trouble is easy to explain. You are sore because I didn't invite Eleanor, your pal, to this dinner."

"I am not," stoutly contradicted Dulcie. Nevertheless her sudden flush belied her words.

"Of course you are," went on Leslie imperturbably. "Understand, I didn't want the rest of the gang here tonight, and that's that. What I started out to say when Nat and Joan and Margaret and you butted in, one by one, was this: We must bestir ourselves and make a fuss over the freshies. This year's freshman class is, I'm told, the largest entering class for ten years. I don't feel like bothering myself with the diggy, priggy element of freshies, but even they will have to be considered. I'd do anything to spite that Sanford crowd and upset the progress they have made against us."

"What progress have they made, I'd like to know?" demanded Harriet Stephens scornfully. "If you mean the way they got back at us for ragging Miss Dean, I think that was simply disgraceful in them to call a meeting as they did and blacken our standing at Wayland Hall. It is a wonder we managed to keep our rooms at the Hall after all the row they made about a little bit of ragging."

"We kept them, just the same, and you may thank Joan and I for it," significantly reminded Leslie. "I know old Remson is so sore at us she could snap our heads off. The funny part of it is, she will never know how cleverly we blocked her little game. That reminds me. I don't want the rest of the Sans to know the way we worked that scheme. Eight of us in the secret is enough. Remember, if it ever got out we would be all through at Hamilton College."

"Do you believe we would be expelled, Les?" asked Dulcie Vale, looking worried.

"I don't believe it. I know we would. Nothing could save us. Never mind being scared, though. No one will ever know the rights of our plot unless some one of you girls here is silly enough to tell it. That's why I am cautioning you to be careful."

"Leslie is precisely right about that," Natalie Weyman hastened to agree. "We shall have to be very careful what we do this year. I think that a little missionary work among the freshies would be a good thing for all of us. Later on we can drop them if they grow to be too much of a bore."

"They will take care of themselves as they get used to college," predicted Leslie. "If some of 'em turn out to be really smart, like Lola Elster, for instance, then we needn't be slow about running with them. You think, Nat, that I have a crush on that Miss Walbert." Leslie turned directly to Natalie. "I have not. She is just the person I need, though, to carry out a plan of mine. Joan and Harriet both say that the Walberts have millions. They have a wonderful place at Newport. So Mrs. Barry Symonds told Joan. What did you say the Walbert's place was called, Joan?"

"Evermonde," furnished Joan promptly. "I was sorry I didn't go and call on the kid, particularly after I found out who she was. I only met her twice at the tag end of the season."

"What I want her for," continued Leslie with slow emphasis, "is the freshman presidency."

"Some modest little ambition," murmured Evangeline Heppler.

"Um-m! Well, rather!" agreed Adelaide Forman. "How do you propose to make it happen, Les?"

"Leave that to me. I'm not prepared to tell you yet. I only know that it has to happen. It will give us a good hold on the freshies." Leslie's loose-lipped mouth tightened perceptibly. "We'll have to do some clever electioneering. I expect it will cost money. I don't care how much it costs, so long as I win my point."

"You mean we must rush the freshies?" interrogated Margaret Wayne.

"Yes," nodded Leslie. "Cart them around in our cars. Blow them off to dinners and luncheons. Begin tomorrow to go down to the station and grab them as they come off the train."

"Deliver me from the station act." Joan Myers made a wry face.

"You'll have to go to it with the rest of us," insisted Leslie with a suggestive lowering of brows. "This is really serious business, Joan. I don't intend to sit still and see a bunch of muffs like those Sanford girls run Hamilton College. We had things all our own way until they came upon the scene. Nothing has been as it should be for us since then. They have turned a lot of upper class girls against us. I don't mean Leila Harper and her crowd. They never had any time for us. There are a good many Silverton Hall girls of our social standing, but they went almost solid against us in that Miss Reid affair last year. Who was to blame for that? Those Sanford busybodies, you may be sure."

"I believe it was that Miss Page who started the Silverton Hall gang," differed Dulcie Vale, with a touch of sulkiness. She was still peeved at Leslie and now delighted in expressing a contrary opinion.

"I don't care what you believe," mimicked Leslie disagreeably. "I say it was the Sanford crowd who started the trouble."

"Say it, then. Sing it if you like," retorted Dulcie. "I am privileged to my own opinion."

"Keep it to yourself, then. I don't care to hear it," coolly returned Leslie. "You girls make me weary. You are all so ready to start fussing over nothing."

"You are just as ready!" burst forth Dulcie, in a sudden gust of anger. "You think we all ought to do precisely as you say and never have an opinion of our own. I fail to see why I, at least, should be bossed by you. It isn't we girls that are at fault. It is you. I like you, Leslie, when you don't try to run everything. When you begin bullying, I can't endure you. Please don't attempt to bully me, for I won't stand it."

"There is one thing about it," broke in Harriet Stephens decidedly, "we shall not accomplish much if there is no unity among us. So far as I am concerned, I would rather have Leslie take the lead. I will never forgive the Sanford crowd for what they did to us last March. If Leslie can find ways to get even with them, I am willing to do as she says, simply to see those hateful girls defeated in whatever they set out to do."

"That is the proper spirit," approved Leslie. "Believe me, I know what I am saying when I tell you that we must fight those girls and put them in the background where they belong. The way to begin this year is to win over the freshies. The minute it is known we are interesting ourselves in these greenies' welfare, our popularity will take a jump upward. Every one of you can either give me your promise tonight to help or keep away from me the rest of the year. Think it over. Don't promise and then go to grumbling behind my back about it. If you do, I'll be sure to hear it."

"It will be rather good fun to play angel to the freshies for a change," said Evangeline Hepper. "We might have a picnic some Saturday, or give a hop for them. Have it understood, of course, that it was the Sans Soucians who were to be the hostesses."

"We can decide better what to do after we have met a few of the freshmen," returned Leslie. "I hope there won't be many of those beggarly-looking girls who come into college on scholarships or scrape their way through without a cent above their expenses. They are so tiresome. That Miss Langly, of our class, is a glowing example of what I mean."

"She is very high and mighty since the Sanford crowd took her up, isn't she?" shrugged Natalie.

"She always was, for that matter," said Adelaide Forman. "Those girls have praised her and babied her until she is a good deal more infatuated with herself than she used to be."

"That is another reason I have for wanting to get back at them," asserted Leslie. "You all know the snippy way she acted when we asked her to change rooms with Lola. Worse still, she had to go and tell her troubles to the Sanford crowd. They started right in to tell everyone how brilliant she was and how shabbily we had treated her. Then the Silverton Hall girls took it up and spread the news abroad that Langly had won a scholarship no one else had been able to win for twenty years. That sent her stock away up and we had to stop ragging her or be disliked. I shall not forget that little performance in a hurry."

"They certainly put one over on us with that miserable old beauty contest, too." Natalie's voice quivered with bitterness.

"Leila Harper was to blame for that, Nat. She is the cleverest girl at Hamilton. We made a serious mistake in the beginning about her. They say her father has oodles of money." Joan looked brief regret at the mistake the Sans had made in not cultivating Leila.

"We never could have got along with her," Leslie said decidedly. "I am glad we never took her up. I detest her and Vera Mason, too, but not half so hard as I do Miss Bean and her satellites." Leslie invariably said "Bean" instead of Dean in derision of Marjorie.

She now paused, her heavy features dark with resentment. The independence of Marjorie Dean and her friends was a thorn to her flesh. Each time she had attempted to injure them she had been ingloriously defeated. She was determined, this year, not only to win back and maintain her former leadership at Hamilton College, but also to crush the rising power of the girls she so greatly disliked.

"Are you going to let the rest of the Sans in on this station business?" inquired Harriet Stephens.

"Naturally; we need them to help us out. Don't get the idea I am trying to keep the other girls out of our plans. I am not. It's like this. The eight of us ran around together at prep school before we took the rest of the girls into our crowd. We have always been a little more confidential among ourselves because we are the old guard, as you might say. Of course they know all about our troubles with Miss Bean and her pals. They went through them with us. What we must keep to ourselves is this Wayland Hall affair. We saved their rooms for them. They know that. They don't need to know the exact process by which we did it, do they? I merely told them that I thought I could get my father to fix up matters if there was any trouble started. They let us do all the worrying over it. I guess we have the right to keep it to ourselves. That settles you, Dulcie. You can quit sulking because I won't allow you to tell everything you know to Eleanor. Remember it is to your own precious interest not to."

Leslie delivered herself of this long speech very much as her father might have addressed himself to a group of his business lieutenants. It was received with a certain amount of respect which was always accorded her by her chums when she adopted her father's tone and manner. They were all still more or less uneasy over the method which she and Joan had employed to save them their residence at Wayland Hall.

"Leslie, do you think we will ever have any trouble about—well—about what you and Joan did?" questioned Evangeline Heppler rather uneasily.

"Not unless you let someone outside this crowd into the secret. The only other person who knows it would not dare tell it. She would deny knowing a thing about it to the very end. Don't worry. That is past. It won't come up again. We are safe enough. It is up to us now to put the enemy on the back seats where they belong and regain the ground we lost last year. I repeat what I said awhile ago. We have got to get busy."



CHAPTER IX.

FRESHIE FISHING.

The result of Leslie Cairns' rallying of her companions to her standard was made manifest when a fairly lengthy procession of automobiles, driven by Sans sped along the smooth roads to the station on the following Friday morning.

While Leslie was not at all on good terms with Miss Humphrey, the registrar, she had other sources of information open to her regarding college matters which were by rights none of her affairs. It was, therefore, easy for her to learn how many of the freshman class had registered and govern herself accordingly. With the tactics of a general she went the rounds of the Sans, ordering them to be on hand all day Friday with their cars, provided these highly useful machines in the campaign had arrived on the scene. At least half of the Sans were already in possession of their own pet cars, these having been driven to Hamilton by the chauffeurs of their respective families. Nine automobiles accordingly went to swell the procession that sunny Friday morning and the Sans were in high feather as, two to a car, they set out on their self-imposed welcoming task.

Leslie had decreed that they were to meet every incoming train of importance that day and spare no pains to make themselves agreeable to the newcomers. In case the freshman yield was small, they were to use their judgment about being friendly with returning students of the upper classes.

"If we can't fill our cars with freshies, you girls all know just about who's who at Hamilton. Don't pick up a soph, junior or senior unless you are sure that it will be to our advantage to do so. Keep an eye out for faculty. Nothing like being on the soft side of them."

Such was Leslie's counsel to her followers who were entering the campaign with a malicious zest infinitely gratifying to her. While the other eight cars contained two occupants apiece, Leslie's pet roadster held a third passenger. Leslie had elected to invite Elizabeth Walbert to share the roadster with herself and Harriet Stephens. This was not in the least to Natalie Weyman's liking. Her own car having arrived, she was obliged to drive it. She had not emerged from her cloud of resentment against the officious Miss Walbert, nor was she likely to.

Meanwhile the faithful little committee, truly devoted to freshman welfare, was blissfully unaware that their duties were about to be snatched from them by the predatory Sans. The absent members of the committee having arrived, the seven girls held a meeting on Thursday evening in Marjorie's room, dividing the trains to be met among them. Marjorie and Jerry were to be reinforced by Leila and Vera. The others had also certain friends among the sophs, juniors and seniors who could be relied upon to help them.

Marjorie and Jerry having been detailed to meet the ten-twenty train from the west each morning, Vera and Leila never failed to be on hand with their cars by nine o'clock. This permitted of a delightful spin in the fresh air over the many picturesque drives in the vicinity of Hamilton College. Always punctual, Leila never failed to get them to the station in plenty of time for the train.

Driving into the station yard on this particular Friday morning, the sight of a line of shining automobiles caused them to blink in momentary astonishment.

"The Sans!" muttered Leila, giving vent to her usual whistle of surprise. "Now what are the heathen up to? Look at that line of cars! Almost every color except violet. What do you make of that?"

"They must expect a delegation of their own friends," guessed Marjorie. "A lot of upper class girls are expected at Hamilton today."

"Freshies, too," added Leila, as she brought her car to a stop and prepared to alight. "Miss Humphrey told me she thought a large part of the freshman class would be in on Friday and Saturday. I was complaining to her of how few we had landed in the past week."

By this time Jerry and Vera were both out of Vera's car and had come quickly up to Marjorie and Leila.

"Can you beat it?" saluted Jerry. "We think the Sans have come freshie fishing. What do you think?"

"Little Miss Charitable thinks they may be down here to meet their own friends," remarked Leila with a mischievous glance toward Marjorie. "You guileless infant! Don't you know what has happened? The Sans are going to do just what some of us said the other night they wouldn't take the trouble to do. They have gone into the welcoming business."

"One, two, three——" Vera had begun to count the colorful array of automobiles. "Nine machines." She turned to Leila with a little laugh. "It shows which way the wind is blowing, doesn't it?"

"We are going to have some fun with them this year," predicted Leila with a touch of grimness. "They are beginning to be afraid of losing their glory or you would never see them down here welcoming freshmen."

"Let's get along and take a look at our rivals," suggested Jerry humorously. "I suppose they will all be dressed to kill. Too bad they can't appear in full evening dress. That would be so much more impressive."

"I am not going to let them bother me," announced Marjorie placidly. "The kind of girls we are specially on the lookout to help will not be their kind. They will pick out the smartly-dressed ones and leave the humble ones, if there are any, to us. After all, there are not very many poor students at Hamilton. I suppose it is because of the high tuition fees and the expensive board here."

"We had better hustle along. Hear that?" Jerry; raised a hand for attention. "That is the train whistling."

Without further delay the quartette hurriedly sought the stairs and reached the platform a moment or two before the train appeared in sight.

"I shall not be sorry when our committee duties end," Marjorie said with a faint sigh. "It seems as though about all I have done since I came back to Hamilton is to meet trains. I have a lot of things to do for myself that I haven't had time to think about. I haven't arranged my study programme either."

"Cheer up. Tomorrow will end it," consoled Vera. "There will be some stragglers next week, of course, but today and Saturday will see the most of the students here."

"Look at the Sans." Leila arched her brows and drew down the corners of her mouth. "Hmm! Posted all along the platform with General Cairns in the most prominent place. And do my eyes tell me lies! Isn't that girl hanging on her arm the freshie you lost the other day, Marjorie?"

"Yes, it is Miss Walbert." Marjorie instantly identified the fickle freshman.

"You never said a word to any of us about what happened the other day except that she knew Miss Myers and left you," Jerry said. "I meant to ask you about her afterward and I forgot it. Was she snippy with you?"

"No-o; not exactly snippy." A faint smile rose to Marjorie's lips. "She wasn't satisfied to stay with us. The minute she caught sight of the Sans she wanted to be with them. Then she found she knew Miss Myers and Miss Stephens, and she simply walked off and left us."

"She's a first-class snob, isn't she?" persisted Jerry.

"Yes, she is," Marjorie responded truthfully. "Frankly I am not sorry she left us. I seldom dislike a girl on sight, but I did not like her. I found it hard work to be polite to her. There was something about her that jarred on me dreadfully."

The arrival of the train cut off further conversation for the moment. The four girls turned their attention to watching the little stream of girls that issued from the several cars. Greatly to their amusement the Sans behaved somewhat after the manner of taxicab drivers eagerly soliciting fares.

"We stand small chance with the freshies today, unless we can line up beside the Sans and call out our merits," laughed Leila.

Marjorie smiled absently, only half hearing Leila's remark. Her eyes were roving up and down the platform in an effort to pick up any girl whom the Sans might deliberately choose to overlook. She saw no one. The considerable number of girls who had descended the car steps were being taken in tow by the new self-constituted reception committee. The clanging of bells and the sharp blast of the whistle proclaimed the train to be ready to move on. The Sans and their finds were already turning their back upon it.

Several yards below where she was standing, Marjorie suddenly spied a lithe, girlish figure coming down the car steps almost at a run, burdened though she was by a traveling bag and a suitcase. At the bottom step she lost her grip on the leather bag and it rolled onto the platform. Instantly Marjorie hurried to her, followed by Jerry. Leila and Vera were genially shaking hands with two seniors who were also behind the main body of the crowd in leaving the train.

"Oh!" exclaimed a dismayed voice, as the traveler's feet found the solid platform.

Marjorie had already recovered the leather bag. Nor was she a second too soon. Joan Myers had lagged behind her companions to talk to a senior who had just come off the train. She had also seen the solitary arrival. She had not failed to note the girl's ultra smart appearance and consequently decided to take charge of her. Utterly ignoring the fact that Marjorie had retrieved the rolling grip, Joan grandly held out her hand to the newcomer.

"Freshman?" she inquired, in sweet tones. "So glad to welcome you to Hamilton. Do let me help you. A number of my friends and myself are making a point of welcoming freshman arrivals. Just come with me and I will see that you are taken care of."

Forgetful for the fraction of an instant of the gracious role she was essaying, Joan flashed Marjorie a contemptuous glance. It said more plainly than words: "You are not wanted here."

Well aware of it, Marjorie stood her ground. She was still in possession of the bag. Joan's interruption had given her no time either to greet the traveler or return her property.

"Thank you. I am expecting a cousin of mine to meet me." The girl responded courteously, but with a trace of reserve. "Perhaps you know her. She is Miss Page of Silverton Hall."

"I know who she is. I believe I have met her." A dull tide of red mounted to Joan's cheeks. "So long as you are to be met by her I won't intrude. So pleased to have met you, I'm sure." With this hasty and insincere assurance, Joan beat a rapid retreat, leaving Marjorie, Jerry and the freshman to their own devices.

"I don't believe she can be a very intimate friend of Robin's," calmly commented the girl, a slightly mocking light in her pretty blue eyes.

"She isn't," was Jerry's blunt answer, "but we are. If you are willing to take our word for it, we shall be glad to see you to Hamilton College. I heard yesterday that Robin was back, but we haven't seen her yet. I am Geraldine Macy and this is my friend Marjorie Dean."

"I have heard of both of you from Robin. I spent two weeks with her at Cape May this summer. Now I know I am in the hands of friends. Tell you the truth, I didn't like that other girl a little bit. I hadn't the least intention of toddling along with her. I was glad I had Robin for an excuse. I really thought she would meet me. As you haven't seen her since you heard she was back, that means she certainly isn't around here now. I think that tall, red-faced girl was awfully rude to thrust herself upon me when she could plainly see that you were holding my bag." She now addressed herself to Marjorie.

"I made up my mind to hang on to the bag until I had a chance to speak to you." Marjorie evaded passing opinion on Joan. "Jerry and I are on committee to welcome freshmen. This morning a crowd of juniors came down to the station for that purpose. We did not have any luck freshie-fishing. The juniors caught them all, with the exception of yourself."

"I came near being carried on to the next station," laughed the girl. "I dropped my coin purse and couldn't find it. I was frantic, for I had stuffed some bank notes into it and naturally didn't want to leave the train without it. It had rolled under the seat just in front of me. By the time I found it the train was ready to start and I had to hustle. I nearly took a fall on that last step, but saved myself by letting my bag go instead of me. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Phyllis Marie Moore, at your service, and when we all get past the Miss stage you may like to call me Phil. I used to be a terrible tomboy until I grew up. I am a rapid fire talker. I love to talk and I have very strong likes and dislikes. Let me see. Oh, yes. I say outright whatever I think, whether it sets well or not. Those are the main points about me, I guess. You may now discard me or take me to your heart; just as you please," she ended with a merry little laugh.

"We shall be delighted to begin cherishing you immediately," Marjorie gaily assured.

Jerry was quick to add to the assurance. Given also to very positive likes and dislikes, she had already taken a great fancy to Robin's lively cousin. She had a shrewd opinion that it would not take Phillis Marie Moore long to make a prominent place for herself in the freshman class.

Leila and Vera now joined them, in company with the two seniors, who were going to the campus in Vera's car. Leila claimed the privilege of conveying the freshman arrival at Silverton Hall, her destination. Once there, Miss Moore's three upper class guardians were given a vociferous greeting by a bevy of jubilant girls.

"You bad old goose!" was Robin Page's affectionate censure as she hugged her tall, boyish cousin. "Why didn't you wire me?"

"I did," returned Phyllis. "You'll probably receive it tomorrow. That will be so nice, won't it, to get a wire that I am on the way when I'm already here?"

"You fell into good hands, anyway," Robin beamed on the trio of Wayland Hall girls. "Do you notice anything different about me?" she asked anxiously of them all. Very carefully she turned her head so that the small knot of hair at the nape of her white neck could be seen. "I am a real grown-up young person now!" she proudly exclaimed. "I can do up my hair."

"You are that," Leila agreed in her most gallant Irish manner. "It is now that we shall have to begin to treat you with proper respect."

"See that you do," retorted Robin. "Right away quick I am going to treat you folks to luncheon. You must stay. It will be ready in a few minutes. Come up to my room and we can hold an impromptu reception until the bell rings. The Silvertonites are all anxious to see you. As sophs we have a duty to perform. We must try hard to impress my freshman cousin. Do telephone Ronny, Lucy, Muriel and Vera to come over. You can run 'em over in your car, Leila, in a jiffy."

"Many thanks for Vera's and my invitation. We can't accept, for we have a luncheon engagement at Baretti's with two seniors. I must be hurrying along or I'll be late. I'll send the girls back in my car. Any of them can drive it."

Leila took hurried farewell of her friends and drove off at top speed. True to her word, it was not long before her car swung into sight again driven by Ronny. The three new arrivals were received with the same heartiness which had been extended to Marjorie and Jerry. By the time they appeared, Robin's large square room was overflowing with girls.

Once more in the genial atmosphere which always pervaded Silverton Hall, the petty worries and annoyances of the past week fell away from Marjorie. She entertained a momentary regret that she had not chosen Silverton Hall as a residence in the beginning. She and her chums would have found life so much pleasanter there.

Then the face of kind little Miss Remson rose before her. She realized how very fond she had grown of the upright, sorely-tried manager. She reflected, too, that, if the Lookouts had not gone to Wayland Hall to live, it would have been much harder for Katherine Langly. Neither would she have known Leila, Vera, or Helen Trent intimately. Besides, she loved Wayland Hall and its beautiful premises best of all the campus houses. It had been Brooke Hamilton's favorite house. Miss Remson had once told her this. In spite of the difficulties the Lookouts had encountered at the Hall, Marjorie wondered if, perhaps, they had not gravitated to it for some beneficient, hidden purpose which only time might reveal.



CHAPTER X.

WINNING OVER THE FRESHMEN.

As Vera had predicted, Saturday brought to Hamilton a goodly number of freshmen. Though the faithful reception committee was strictly on duty that day, the Sans relieved them of a large part of their conscientious task. They were even more in evidence than on Friday. Greatly to the surprise of Marjorie and her companions, they laid themselves out to be democratic. They rushed every young woman who bore freshman earmarks with a zeal which might have been highly commendable had it been sincere. Out of the considerable number of freshman arrivals that Saturday, Marjorie and her committee captured not more than half a dozen.

"The end of a perfect day, I don't think," grumbled Jerry. The five-fifty train had come and gone. Though the seven sophomores had all been on duty, not one of them had a freshman to show for it.

"I'm glad it is over," Marie Peyton said wearily, as the nine disgusted workers strolled to their waiting cars. "I suppose the Sans thought we would contest the ground with them. I wouldn't be so ill-bred. Come on over to the Colonial for dinner. I hereby invite you. We need a little pleasant recreation to offset this fiasco. Next year, no committee duty for me. I have had enough of it."

"How many freshies do you think they have captured altogether?" asked Blanche Scott.

"Oh, sixty or seventy, at least," was Elaine Hunter's guess. "They have been down to every train for the last two days. Between trains they have hung around the Ivy and that other tea shop just below it. I don't recall the name. It opened only last week."

"The Lotus," supplied Jerry. "The funny part of it is the way Miss Cairns has marched that Miss Walbert around with her. They seem to be very chummy.

"Leslie Cairns is trying to popularize Miss Walbert with the freshmen. That is why she has been keeping her on hand at all the trains. I am sure of it," stated Vera positively. "You just watch and see if I am not right. The Sans are going to try to run the freshman class. Otherwise they would never have gone to the trouble they have."

"They won't keep it up. Mark what I tell you, there will be a lot of snubbed and very wrathful freshies before the month is out," prophesied Leila.

"I hope the grand awakening comes before their class election. I doubt it. With Miss Walbert as president of 19—, the Sans would feel they had really put one over on us. I think Phyllis Moore, Robin's cousin, would make a fine freshman president." Jerry glanced about her for corroboration.

"Why not do some quiet electioneering for her, then," suggested Grace Dearborn. "It is just as fair for us to boost a freshie for an office as for the Sans. It would be only a helpful elder sister stunt. We need not make ourselves prominent. A girl like Miss Moore would be a fine influence to her class. This Miss Walbert would not be."

"It isn't really our business," demurred Marjorie, "but I think it would be a good thing, nevertheless. We are fighting for democracy. The Sans are fighting for popularity and false power. I am willing to do all I can to help the cause along. I know Ronny and Muriel and Lucy will feel the same. Jerry's here to speak for herself."

The others agreeing to enter into a quiet little plot to put the right girl in the freshman presidential chair, how they should go about it formed the main topic of conversation at Marie's dinner at the quaint Colonial that evening. All sorts of ways and means were suggested, only to be abandoned. It was impossible to proceed until they had come into more of a knowledge of the freshmen themselves. Each, however, pledged herself to make a point of getting acquainted with the freshmen in the house where she resided and sounding them on their policies, with a view toward giving them a hint in the right direction.

It seemed to Marjorie that the next few days following her strenuous service on committee were days of undiluted peace. Busy with her study programme she forgot, for the time being, that there ever were any such persons as the Sans Soucians. She had decided on French, chemistry, Greek tragedy, Horace's odes and spherical trigonometry for the fall term, a programme that meant hard study. Since coming to Hamilton her active interest in chemistry had increased and she planned to carry the study of it through her entire college course. The laboratory at Sanford High School had been well equipped, but the Hamilton laboratories were all that scientific progress could devise. Marjorie hailed her chemistry hours with the keenest pleasure.

The other four Lookouts were hardly less occupied than herself in arranging their college affairs for the fall term. With a year of college behind them it was much easier to buckle down to study and enjoy it than it had been when they had first entered Hamilton. Girl-like, they loved the good times college offered, yet they were as quick to appreciate the rare educational advantages Hamilton afforded and make the most of them. The average college girl takes the utmost pride in keeping to the fore in her studies. In this the Lookouts were no exception.

Not forgetting their pledge to get acquainted speedily with the freshmen in their own house, the Lookouts found themselves completely blocked in their well-meant design by the Sans. To begin with, there were only four freshmen at Wayland Hall. These the Sans completely monopolized. As yet, no one at the Hall outside the Sans had a speaking acquaintance with them.

Silverton Hall was also at a disadvantage by reason of the few vacancies there. It had been almost entirely a freshman house the previous year. It was now practically sophomore. A few girls, having made changes on account of friends in other houses, there had been eight vacancies and no more. Phyllis Moore had been fortunate enough to secure board there. The seven other freshmen had turned out to be delightful girls with no snobbish notions. Seven democrats in a class of one hundred ten, with the politics of the other hundred and two doubtful, did not point to a speedy election of Phyllis to the freshman presidency.

"We might as well give up boosting Phil as a hopeless job," Jerry remarked to Marjorie one evening, as the two girls were putting away their books preparatory to retiring. Both made it a rule not to talk over outside matters until next day's recitations had been prepared. "It is two weeks since we planned the fateful boost and none of us have made much headway."

"I know it." Marjorie looked up regretfully from the scattered sheets of the finished theme which she was collecting. "The trouble is, so many of the freshies are at Alston Terrace. Acasia House has about twenty. Ethel Laird says they are a fairly affable set, but Miss Burton and Miss Elster are doing their best to spoil them. There are as many as twenty-five freshies off the campus entirely. Miss Humphrey told me that. There were twelve registrations from the town of Hamilton this year. Of course those students go home after recitations."

"Not much can be done when a class is so scattered. I mean by us. Let me count 'em up. There are twenty-five off the campus, eight at Silverton Hall," enumerated Jerry; "four here, forty-four at Alston Terrace. Think of that. That makes one hundred and one. Now where are the other nine? At Craig Hall, perhaps, or Houghton House. You see Miss Walbert has the advantage over Phil as she is at Alston Terrace, the freshie center."

Marjorie nodded. "It doesn't look very promising for Phil," she said. "Robin would love to have Phil win the presidency. She is so proud of her. The Silverton Hall crowd adore her already. She is a dear. She is so full of fun. I like her frank, boyish ways. Leila told me today that the Sans are planning some kind of party for the freshmen. She heard it somewhere on the campus. I don't know who told her."

"That is to taffy the freshmen so they will vote for Miss Walbert," was Jerry's instant uncharitable conclusion. "They haven't held their class election yet. When is this party to be, I wonder?"

"Leila doesn't know. If the Sans do make a party for the freshmen I doubt if all of them will attend it. It won't be at all like the regular freshman dance. Still," she continued reflectively, "if the Sans take that much trouble for them, they ought to respond."

"Yes; I guess that's so. The freshies haven't been here long enough to know the charming Sans as they really are. In their infant verdancy they will probably look upon it as a great honor. They'll probably be more enlightened after they have attended it," Jerry added with a wicked little grin.

Two days later it became circulated about the campus that the freshmen had been invited by the Sans to attend a picnic, instead of a party, to be given at Pine Crest, a wooded height about five miles east of Hamilton College. For many years it had been a favorite college picnic ground. Hardly a Saturday passed, when the weather was good, without an invasion, great or small, of its fragrant, pine-shaded premises. It was an ideal spot for an al fresco luncheon. As it could be reached by automobile, it was all the more popular with the Hamilton students.

The certainty of the rumor was made manifest to Marjorie when, on Wednesday evening after dinner, she and Jerry heard a timid knock on their door. Jerry, hastening to open the door, their caller proved to be Anne Towne.

"Why, good evening, Miss Towne!" Jerry extended a hospitable hand. "So glad to see you. We wondered what had become of you. We knew you owed us a visit and were waiting for you to pay it." Jerry ushered the wren-like freshman into the room and offered her its most comfortable chair.

"I have been intending to call, but I—" Miss Towne paused, looking rather confused. "You see—I—didn't know but I might intrude. You girls are so different from myself," she suddenly blurted out, as though anxious to bare her diffident soul to her dainty hostesses and have it over with. "I mean different because you aren't poor and have lots of friends and can entertain them and all that. I know it is the custom at college for the upper class girls to be kind to entering freshmen. I didn't care to presume on your kindness. I hope you understand me." She flushed painfully.

"Nonsense," scoffed Jerry sturdily. "We aren't a bit haughty. We want you to be our friend and hope to see you often. You mustn't think about such things. Just go along with your head held high. If people don't like you for your own merits, they are not worth cultivating."

"I believe you couldn't have been so very much afraid of Jeremiah's and my great dignity or you wouldn't have dared come and see us tonight." Marjorie smiled encouragement at the still embarrassed girl.

"Perhaps I wasn't really." Marjorie's winning smile communicated itself to the other girl. Her tired little face brightened wonderfully. "I am sure I won't be afraid ever again. I would love to call both of you my friends."

"Do so; do so." Jerry's instant response in a pompous tone made Miss Towne laugh. Marjorie thought her pretty when she laughed. Her teeth were unusually white and even, and her face broke into charming little lines of amusement.

"I will," she promised. "I came to you tonight for advice. You were all so kind to me the other day, I thought you wouldn't mind my asking you something. I have received an invitation to a picnic next Saturday to be given to the freshman class. Here it is."

Miss Towne opened a small handbag and drew from it a heavy white envelope. The faint odor of perfume still clung to it. Drawing from it a sheet of paper to match, she handed the latter to Marjorie. It read:

"Dear Miss Towne:

"The Sans Soucians will be glad to see you at a picnic, to be given in honor of the freshman class next Saturday afternoon, the weather permitting, at Pine Crest. Please meet the other members of the class in front of Science Hall, at half-past one o'clock. The trip will be made by automobile and the Sans Soucians will entertain at luncheon.

"Yours cordially, "Dulciana Vale, Secy. Sans Soucians."



CHAPTER XI.

THE DIFFERENCE IN PICNIC PLANS.

Marjorie studied the invitation in silence. Then she handed it to Jerry. The latter read it and said "Humph!" in a disgusted tone.

"I didn't know what I ought to do about it," broke in Miss Towne anxiously. "Who are the Sans Soucians? I've read quite a little of college sororities. I suppose they are a sorority. Would they be offended if I didn't go? I can't really spare the time. I do my own laundering on Saturday afternoon. The landlady allows me to use the kitchen. I don't mind telling you girls that. I would rather not give it as an excuse to the Sans Soucians, though. Perhaps I would not be missed if I didn't go. Do you think I would be? Are you girls members of the Sans Soucians?"

"Well, hardly!" Jerry spoke on the impulse of the moment. Miss Towne looked at her with increasing anxiety. Jerry's response was not indicative of flattery to the Sans Soucians.

"The Sans Soucians are a private club of eighteen juniors," Marjorie quickly explained. "They live here at the Hall. They are all girls from very wealthy families and they entertain a good deal among themselves. They have taken an unusual interest in the freshmen since they came back to college. We heard that they intended to give a picnic in honor of the freshies. I believe I would try to go if I were you. It will be a good opportunity for you to meet the other members of your class. Besides, Pine Crest is such a beautiful spot. The afternoon in the fresh air will do you good."

Jerry gazed at Marjorie, a slight frown puckering her forehead. It was a fair-minded answer and just like Marjorie. Still, it went against her grain to help the Sans' cause along in the slightest degree.

"Have you met any of your classmates yet?" she asked abruptly. Without a little freshman support Jerry was not sanguine of Miss Towne's enjoyment of the picnic. The Sans' hospitality was not to be trusted.

"I know four girls a little who live several houses below me. They have the third floor of the house and do light house-keeping. They are very much pleased with the invitation. I wish they would ask me to go with them. I hate to go alone. I will accept, though, so long as you think it best." She turned to Marjorie with a kind of meek trust that touched the latter.

"Perhaps these other freshmen will ask you," was Marjorie's hopeful rejoinder. "If they shouldn't you will see them at the picnic and be with them anyway, perhaps. I know an even better plan. Suppose we get the rest of the girls, Jerry, and go over to Silverton Hall. We can introduce Miss Towne to the freshies there and she will be sure to have company at the picnic."

"All right, Marvelous Manager. I'll go and round them up." Jerry rose and promptly disappeared in search of her chums.

"I don't think I ought to go," demurred Muriel, when invited. "I have a hundred lines of French prose to translate. It's terribly hard, too."

"Translate it when you come back," suggested Jerry.

"I see myself doing it. It is half-past seven now. We'll be back here about ten minutes before the ten-thirty bell. That will give me a lot of time to translate a hundred lines. Now won't it?"

"Oh, come along. I'll see that you get back by nine-thirty, even if we have to start home ahead of the others," glibly promised Jerry.

"I'll see to it myself," declared Muriel. "I intend to be a stickler for duty this night. Go and get Ronny and Lucy while I do my hair over. It's all falling down. I will meet you down stairs."

Lucy and Ronny also raised weak objections on the ground of unprepared recitations. Nevertheless they shut up their books with alacrity. Neither cared to be left out of a visit to Silverton Hall.

Presently the six girls were crossing the campus under the autumn stars. It was a soft October night and none of the Lookouts had donned hats or wraps. Walking between Marjorie and Ronny, Miss Towne began partly to understand how very delightful some girls could be. She had never had an intimate girl friend and she thought it remarkable that these self-possessed, beautifully dressed girls should be so ready to show her every kindness.

"You dear things!" was Robin Page's greeting as she fairly pranced into the living room at Silverton Hall not more than three minutes after her callers' arrival. "You certainly are unexpected but awfully welcome. Come up to my room this minute."

Robin smiled in friendly fashion at Miss Towne, although she had never met her. Immediately she had been introduced to the lonely freshman, and Marjorie had stated the object of their call, Robin said heartily:

"I will go and hunt up our freshies as soon as you are up in my room. Phil is there, of course. She rooms with me, you know. She swears she isn't going to that picnic. I don't know what the others think about it. Once get them together, it will be a good chance to find out."

Ushered into Robin's room, the Lookouts and their charge found Phyllis looking girlishly pretty in a flowered silk kimono. She received them in the pleasant, straightforward way they so greatly admired in her and proceeded to show an especial friendliness to Miss Towne.

Presently the murmur of voices outside announced that Robin had been successful in her quest. In fact she had found all seven of the freshmen in their rooms and had rushed them a la negligee to her own.

"Here we are," she breezily announced, "and not a freshie missing. I'll proceed to the great introduction act. Then, make yourselves at home."

As both groups of girls were bent on being friendly, a buzz of conversation soon arose. Under cover of it Robin said to Marjorie: "What do you think about the Sans' new stunt? You know just why they are doing it and so do all of us who fought out that basket-ball affair with them last year. Their motive isn't a worthy one. Still we really can't tell the freshies that. Phil understands matters. That's why she doesn't care to go. I know you want Miss Towne to go, or you would not have brought her over here tonight to get acquainted with our freshies. She will be safe from snubs with our girls. They are all fine. Too bad, but I don't trust the Sans even to do this stunt in a nice way. They will be sure to get haughty and hurt some freshie's feelings before their picnic is over."

"I have no faith in them, but it would be hardly fair not to give them the benefit of the doubt," returned Marjorie earnestly. "I wish Phil would go. It would be a good opportunity for the freshmen to see what a fine president they might have in her. She is so individual. I think she would be popular in her class in spite of the Sans' influence."

"So do I. You ask her. Maybe she will change her mind for you." Robin looked concernedly to where her cousin sat talking animatedly to Muriel and Miss Towne.

The latter, however, had already broached the subject of the picnic to Phyllis.

"I am so glad to meet all you girls. Miss Dean suggested coming over on account of that picnic for the freshmen," Miss Towne had remarked innocently. "I had made up my mind not to go, but she thought I ought to and said if I met some other freshmen I would not have to go alone. I don't live on the campus so I haven't much opportunity of meeting other students."

"I see," nodded Phyllis. A swift tide of color had risen to her cheeks. From the instant she had set eyes on Marjorie Dean she had adored her. She now felt as though she had been lacking in true college spirit. If Marjorie thought Miss Towne should attend the picnic, undoubtedly she must think that the rest of the freshmen ought to do likewise.

"I will play especial escort to you at the picnic," she now laughingly offered. "I hadn't intended to go either, but I have changed my mind. Oh, Marjorie," she called across the room, "I'll take care of Miss Towne at the picnic."

"Will you, truly?" The eyes of the two girls met. A silent message was exchanged. "Then she will be sure to have a nice time," was what Marjorie put into words.

Robin and Marjorie also exchanged sly smiles. Each suspected that humble little Miss Towne was responsible for Phyllis's sudden change of mind. More, it was apparent that Phyllis had taken one of her sudden likings to the unassuming freshman.

Later, Robin found an opportunity to confide to Marjorie that she didn't know how it had happened, for Phil was terribly obstinate when once she had set her mind against a thing. Nor did Marjorie know until long afterward that she had been responsible for a decision on Phyllis's part which was the beginning of a warm friendship between Phyllis and Anna Towne.

Meanwhile the prospective hostesses of Saturday's outing were spending the evening in Leslie Cairns' room squabbling over their plans for the picnic. They could not agree on the refreshments, the amusements, or, in fact, anything pertaining to the affair. The truth of the matter was they were already tired of their beneficent project. They had never made a practice of unselfishly trying to please others, and the process bade fair to be too difficult for their infinitely small natures.

For once, during the wrangling that went on, Leslie Cairns honestly tried to keep her temper. The straw that broke the particular camel's back in her case, however, was an extended argument between Dulcie Vale and Natalie Weyman regarding the refreshments. These two, with Harriet Stephens, had been appointed to look after the luncheon. Harriet lazily expressed herself as indifferent to what the menu should be, provided it was fit to eat.

"Cut out this scrapping and get down to business, you two," finally ordered Leslie in her roughest tones. Followed an insulting rebuke from her that brought a flush to both the wranglers' cheeks. When thoroughly exasperated Leslie spared no one's feelings. "You decide on what to have right now and make a list of it. Trot it over to the Colonial early tomorrow morning. If you leave it until even tomorrow night they may refuse to handle it. Remember it will take time to pack a luncheon for one hundred and twenty-eight persons."

"Dulcie wants to serve a regular six-course dinner out in that neck of the woods," sputtered Natalie. "I am not in favor of such extravagance. It will cost us enough to have sandwiches, salads, relishes and sweets. Then there's coffee, chocolate, and imported ginger ale besides. I am not going to spend my whole month's allowance on a feed for those greenies."

"If we expect to make an impression on the freshies we ought to do things in good style," Dulcie hotly contested. "I don't care how much money it costs me. I have plenty of coin. The trouble with you Nat, is you're stingy. You buy everything expensive for yourself, but you are always broke when it comes to treating."

"I'll never forgive you for that, Dulcie Vale," was Natalie's wrathful retort. "I think you are too——"

"That will be all," Leslie cut in sternly. "I said cut out the scrapping, didn't I? Either do as I say or get out of here. We can run the picnic minus either of you. Nat is right for once. Why should we spend a fortune on this affair?"

Knowing that Leslie would have no scruples about barring them both from further part in the picnic, they sullenly subsided. Dulcie freezingly accepted the list of eatables Natalie had made up and temporary peace was restored. Natalie bade Leslie a very cool goodnight a little later when the session broke up. She was hurt and angry over Leslie's brutal frankness. For an instant she wished she might be entirely free of Leslie's domineering sway. It was one of those moments when a faint stirring of a better nature made her long for harmony and peace. Her ignoble side was too greatly in the ascendency however to make her distaste for Leslie Cairns and her tyranny more than momentary.



CHAPTER XII.

A RECKLESS DRIVER.

"The Sans have certainly had one beautiful day for their picnic, but if they don't put in an appearance pretty soon they will be caught in a rain." Seated beside Marjorie and Lucy Warner in the big porch swing, Jerry squinted at the rapidly clouding sky.

While the day had been warm and moderately sunny, dark clouds had been looming up here and there in the sky since four o'clock. Scattered at first, they had gradually banked solidly in the west, obscuring the sunset and promising rain before nightfall.

"What time is it, Jeremiah?" asked Lucy. "I promised to meet Katherine here on the veranda at five-thirty. She left her handbag at Lillian's last night and we are going to walk over there before dinner."

"Why, Luciferous!" Jerry fixed Lucy with an amazed eye. "Can I believe that you and your precious watch have parted company even for a brief half hour!"

Lucy giggled. Her extreme fondness for the wrist watch Ronny had given her was well known to her chums.

"I broke the crystal," she confessed. "It dropped from my hand the other night on the lavatory floor. I miss it terribly you had better believe. It will be fixed tomorrow, thank goodness."

"Surprised at such carelessness. Ahem!" Jerry teased. "If you want to know the time, it is twenty-seven minutes past five. Your kindred spirit should appear in three minutes."

"Here she comes now." Marjorie had spied Katherine coming up the walk.

"Did you think I was going to be late?" Katherine called from the bottom step. "I had an awful time looking up some data at the library. I just left there and ran half the way here. It looks like rain, but, if we walk fast, we can go over to Wenderblatt's and back before it starts. Want to go along, Marjorie and Jerry?"

"I might as well. I've nothing else to do before dinner. Come on, Jeremiah. A fast walk before dinner will be a splendid appetizer." Marjorie rose from the swing and brushed down her wrinkled linen skirt.

"Don't need an appetizer. I'm famished now. Lead me on. I may lose half a pound. That will be something attempted, something done, as our friend H. W. Longfellow sagely remarks in the 'Village Blacksmith.'"

Without further lingering the four girls left the veranda and started down the drive at a swift walk. The Wenderblatt's residence was not far from the campus, but the sky was growing more threatening.

"It begins to look as though we would have to run all the way back to the Hall or get a ducking," warned Jerry as they neared Lillian's home. "We can't stop to talk, girls. We had better wait for Katherine at the gate. If the whole gang of us goes up to the house we will lose time."

"Yes, I want to be back at the Hall for an early dinner. I must study like sixty this evening, for I won't have a minute tomorrow. Chapel in the morning, and I have promised to go over to Houghton House tomorrow afternoon with Leila. Then we are all going to Muriel's and Hortense's Sunday night spread. Sunday seems the shortest day in the week," Marjorie ended with a little regretful gesture.

"I'll be back directly." Coming to the high gate of the ornamental iron fence which inclosed the professor's property, Katherine clanged it hurriedly after her and sped up the walk to the house.

True to her word it was not more than ten minutes before she rejoined them, her handbag swinging from her arm.

"Lillian was so sorry you wouldn't come up. She invited us all to dinner. I told her we simply must hurry back to the Hall. She——"

A sudden deep rumble of thunder drowned Katherine's speech. It was followed by a sharp blinding flash of lightning.

"We had better run for it," counseled Jerry. "There will be more thunder and lightning before the rain really starts. Don't let a little thing like thunder worry you, children."

By common consent the quartette broke into a gentle run. Soon they were on the highway and not more than a block from the campus wall. As they neared the east gate a terrific reverberating peal of thunder rent the air. So completely did it obliterate all other sound that none of the four heard the purr of a motor behind them, driven at excessive speed.

"Look out!" A sense of impending danger warning Jerry to turn her head, even in full flight, her voice rose in a sharp scream.

Her friends heard it dimly as the speeding car bore down upon them. Jerry made a wild dive out of harm's way, dragging Marjorie, who was nearest to her, with her. Lucy, who was on the outer edge of the road made a stumbling step backward. Katherine—— Through a mist of horror the three girls saw the machine catch her, flinging her off the road. They heard cries issue from the black and white roadster as it shot down the road.

"Katherine! Oh, do you suppose she is dead?" Already Lucy was kneeling on the ground beside the silent form in an agony of suspense. "She was almost in the middle of the road. I didn't have time to warn her. I didn't hear it until it ran her down." Lucy's face was white and set.

"Her heart's beating." Marjorie knelt at Katherine's other side, her hand inside Katherine's pongee blouse. "Better go over her for broken bones, Lucy." Marjorie was trembling violently though her voice was steady.

"It was Leslie Cairns who did that!" Jerry hotly accused. "I wonder if she'll have the decency to come back. She must know she ran some one down. I heard the girls in her car scream. I guess she turned in at the gate. Keep off the road, girls. Here come the rest of the picnickers. One accident is enough for today. She was speeding. That's why she was so far ahead of the others. I shall hail this first car and make 'em take Katherine up to the Hall."

Jerry did not need to hail the car. In the fading daylight the girl at the wheel, who happened to be Margaret Wayne, brought her automobile to a stop almost even with the roadside group.

"What has happened?" she called out sharply.

"Your friend Miss Cairns just ran down Miss Langly," returned Jerry grimly. "She isn't dead, but we don't know how badly she may be hurt. May we have the use of your car to take her to the Hall?"

"Certainly," came the response in frightened tones. Next instant the seven occupants of the car had piled out of it and gathered around the still unconscious girl.

A swift patter of raindrops struck the group, beating gently on Katherine's white, upturned face. Marjorie had now lifted her head to an easy position on her lap.

"Have any of you smelling salts?" she inquired calmly of the frightened circle, "or perhaps you have a water bottle with you."

"The luncheon things are in one of the cars away back. We have no water with us. Won't the rain help to revive her?" Margaret Wayne asked lamely.

"We shall not give it time to do that," Marjorie returned dryly. "If you will help us lift her we will get her into the car at once. It is only two or three minutes' drive to the Hall."

The others of the party being freshmen, they willingly sprang to Marjorie's assistance. Raised from the ground, Katherine opened her eyes and groaned a little.

"What—happened? Oh, I—remember. My back! It—hurts—so." She closed her eyes wearily.

Slender though she was, it became no easy matter to place her in the tonneau of the automobile. The credit of the undertaking went to Marjorie and Jerry, who exerted their young strength to the utmost for their injured friend. By this time a procession of automobiles containing the returning picnickers was drawn up along the road. The sound of excited voices from within these cars bade Marjorie lose no time.

"Will you please drive on before the others come up?" she entreated. "They know now that something has happened. We ought not to have a crowd around. I hope your passengers won't mind walking to the campus."

"Not a bit of it," assured two or three of the freshmen who had heard her remarks.

"Thank you." Marjorie flashed the group of girls one of her beautiful, kindly smiles which none of them forgot in a hurry.

Alarmed though she was by the accident, Margaret was half resentful of Marjorie's calm manner. Still she had no choice but to do as she was requested. She inwardly wished that Leslie had had the prudence to drive moderately. This affair was likely to make trouble for them all.

"Ready?" she interrogated, turning in the driver's seat to Marjorie.

An affirmative and she started her car for the Hall. Just at the gate they met the black and white roadster. Leslie was its sole occupant now.

"Hello!" she hailed. "Is that you, Margaret? What was the matter back there? Do you know?" Leslie leaned far out of her car in the gathering twilight.

"Your roadster hit Miss Langly. I don't know how it happened. She is in my car. Her friends are with her. You'd better go on down and tell the rest what has happened. They have stopped back there."

"What?" This time Leslie's pet interjection came involuntarily and with a tinge of fear. "I saw a bunch of girls, but I was sure I didn't hit any of them. See you at the Hall." Leslie started her car without further words.

"She has nerve!" muttered Jerry. "She thinks she is going to slide out of this easily. Well, she can't lay this outrage to anyone else. She had no business to be exceeding the speed limit. She never sounded a horn, either. Poor Kathie! I hope she isn't badly hurt."

"I—I—am all right, Jerry." Katherine had heard. "The car just brushed me; hard—enough to throw me—on my back. That's all."

"That's all," repeated Lucy indignantly. "Enough, I should say. Musn't talk much, Kathie. You'll be in your room and in bed right away."

"Glad of it. So—tired," mumbled Katharine, and closed her eyes again.

The injured girl was carried into the Hall just as a driving rain began to descend. Miss Remson promptly telephoned for her own physician and bustled about, an efficient first aid, until he arrived.

Established temporarily on the living room davenport, Katherine braced up wonderfully under the wise little manager's treatment. To her plea that she could walk upstairs to her room, if assisted by two of her friends, Miss Remson would not listen.

"Wait until the doctor comes, my dear," she insisted. "He will know what's best for you."

News of the accident having spread through the Hall, girls hurried from all parts of the house to the living room, where they were promptly headed off by Lucy, Marjorie and Jerry from intruding upon Katherine. Thus far neither the Sans nor the four freshmen who roomed at the Hall had put in an appearance.

The arrival of Doctor Thurston, a large, kindly man of about forty, was a relief to all concerned. Very gently he lifted Katherine in his strong arms and carried her upstairs to her room.

"She has had a narrow escape," he told her anxious friends, a little later. "Her back is sprained. It is a wonder it was not broken. Two weeks in bed and she will be all right again. Students who drive their own cars should go slowly along the campus part of the road. There are always girls in plenty on foot. The one who ran her down must have had very poor policy not even to sound a horn."



CHAPTER XIII.

A PAINFUL INTERVIEW.

As a result of a private conference among the Lookouts that evening, a trained nurse arrived on Sunday afternoon to look after their injured friend. Ronny, with her usual magnificent generosity, wished to take the expenses for Katherine's care and treatment upon herself. To this her chums would not hear. "We all love Kathie," Muriel declared. "I think we ought to divide her expenses among us." Lucy Warner was particularly pleased with Muriel's proposal. She had earned an extra hundred dollars that summer by doing typing in the evenings. She felt, therefore, that she held the right to offer a portion of it in the cause of her particular friend.

"It seems too bad to go on having good times with poor Kathie so sick," deplored Marjorie, as she and Jerry softly closed the door of the latter's room after a brief visit to her following their return from Houghton House.

"I know it, but what good will it do us to cut out recreation, so long as we can't spend the time with her?" argued Jerry. "We know she is all right and going to get well. It isn't as though she wasn't expected to live. The nurse said a lot of the girls had come to her door to inquire for her. She wouldn't let any of 'em see her. I think the Sans have been on the job. They are probably scared for fear Kathie will make it hot for Leslie Cairns when she is well again."

"She wouldn't." Marjorie shook her curly head. "Neither would I, if I were in her place. It ought to be a lesson to the Sans without any further fuss about it. They are the only ones who drive faster than they should."

"If Miss Cairns had run down a citizen of the town of Hamilton then there would have been a commotion. It is a very good thing for her that a traffic officer wasn't around. He would have arrested her, sure as fate. I wish one had been on the scene," declared Jerry, with a trace of vindictiveness.

That the Sans were manifestly uneasy over the accident was evidenced by their gathering in Leslie Cairns' room that afternoon for a confab. Leslie herself hid whatever trepidation she was feeling under an air of cool bravado. She listened to all that her companions had to say on the subject without vouchsafing more than an occasional curt reply.

"Really, Les, you don't seem to understand that you may get into an awful mess over running down that beggardly dig!" Joan Myers at length exclaimed in sharp irritation. "Suppose the whole thing is put before President Matthews or the Board. We may all lose the privilege of having our cars at college. I read of a college out west the other day where that happened as the result of an accident to a student."

"Oh, forget it!" Leslie waved a derisive hand. "I shall fix things O.K. Don't make any mistake about that. I'll send this beggar a whopping old basket of fruit tomorrow and a handsome box of flowers. You girls had better part with a little change in the same cause. Anyway, I have pretty solid ground to stand on. Who is going to prove that I didn't sound a horn? It couldn't be heard above the thunder. If I drove fast, I had reason for it. Why should I drive my car at a crawl and be caught in the storm? Was there a cop around to say I was speeding? There was not. I certainly won't ever admit it. It was simply one of those unfortunate accidents. So sorry, I'm sure. What?" Leslie finished in a high, mocking treble.

It raised a laugh, as she intended it should. Her companions began to breathe more freely. Leslie could certainly be relied upon to clear herself.

Before evening of the following Monday Katherine's room resembled a combination fruit and flower market. Not only the Sans but her real friends and impersonal sympathizers also sent in their friendly tributes. Her condition much improved, she asked particularly to see Marjorie and Lucy Warner.

"Not more than fifteen minutes, please," said the nurse, as the two girls tip-toed into the sick room shortly before dinner.

"I wanted to see you so much." Katherine smiled a trifle wanly. "You were so good to me when first I was hurt. I remember the whole thing. I won't try to talk of that now. Later, when you can stay longer. There is something I wish you would do for me. Nurse read me the names of the cards on the flowers and fruit. The Sans sent a good deal of it. I—I—" a thread of color crept into Katherine's pale cheeks. "I don't want it. I can't bear it in the room. I understand them so well. I don't care to be harsh, but I would like you to take all of it except a basket of fruit and a few flowers and send it to the Hamilton Home for Old Folks. It is on Carpenter Street. It would please them so much. I can't eat one-tenth of the fruit before it spoils, and you girls don't want it, I know. If it is mostly all sent away, then no one can feel hurt, neither the Sans nor my real friends. The Sans need not be afraid. I am not going to make Miss Cairns any trouble. She has asked twice to see me. I shall see her when I am a little stronger and tell her so."

"That is sweet in you, Kathie," Marjorie approved. She referred not only to Katherine's lenience of spirit toward Leslie Cairns, but to her proposed thoughtful disposal of the fruit and flowers. "I'll ask Leila to take your gifts to the old folks in her car tomorrow. I know she will be glad to be able to do something for you. I understand how you feel about—well—some things. I believe I'd feel the same if I were in your place."

"I wanted to be excused from my classes and be your nurse, Kathie," Lucy solemnly assured her chum, her green eyes full of devotion. "Ronny said 'no' that a trained nurse would be best. I miss you dreadfully. Let me come and see you every day, won't you?"

"Of course, you dear goose," Katherine assured, her blue eyes misting over with sudden tears. It was so wonderful to be loved and missed. "I shall not be in bed for two whole weeks. I can sit up a little now and I am so strong I shall be walking about the room by the last of this week. I am not used to being an invalid and I don't intend to get used to being one."

Naturally sturdy of constitution, the end of the ensuing week found Katherine able to make little journeys about her room. It was not until the Friday following her accident that she felt equal to seeing Leslie Cairns. The nurse had informed her on Thursday that Miss Langly would be able to see her for a few minutes on Friday afternoon. Leslie accordingly cut her last afternoon recitation in order to call on Katherine before any of her friends should arrive on the scene.

"Good afternoon," she saluted without enthusiasm, as the nurse admitted her to the sick room. Her small dark eyes shrewdly appraised Katherine, who was lying on her couch bed clad in a dainty delft blue silk kimono.

"Good afternoon, Miss Cairns," Katherine returned. "Please take the arm chair. It is more comfortable than the others."

"Thank you. I can't stay long. I have been trying to see you for the last week; ever since your accident, in fact. Glad to see you better. I sent you some fruit and flowers. Tried to make you understand that I was anxious about you." Leslie paused. Her small stock of politeness was already threatening to desert her. She despised Katherine for her poverty. Now she disliked her even more because she had injured her.

"I thank you for the fruit and flowers. I asked the nurse to thank you for me when I received them. I have met with so many kindnesses since I—since I was hurt." Katherine referred to the injury she had received through Leslie's recklessness with some hesitancy.

"You understand, don't you, that I wasn't really to blame for your accident?" The question was put to Katherine with brusque directness. "I was driving a little faster than usual to escape the storm. I was well within the speed limit. Remember that. I fail to understand why you girls didn't hear my horn. It sounded clearly, even above the storm."

"I did not hear it." Katherine fixed her clear eyes squarely upon the other girl. "I heard Jerry scream 'Look out!' and then the car struck me."

"Hm! Well, all I can say is you girls should not have been strung across the road as you were," was Leslie's bold criticism.

"We were walking only on the half of the road used by cars coming toward us," was Katherine's quietly defensive rejoinder. "But it doesn't matter, Miss Cairns. I do not intend to make any trouble for you. I hope all excitement of the accident has died down before this."

"It will be dropped unless that crowd of girls you go with keep stirring it up," retorted Leslie. "I wish you would ask them to let it drop. Since you are willing to, why shouldn't they be? I wasn't to blame. Start an inquiry and the result will be we'll not be allowed to keep our cars at college. That will hit some of your friends as well as myself and mine."