"I'd go for my car but if would take longer to get it than for us to walk. We must make all haste. Now I have an idea of my own about this. I am not far off the truth when I say the Sans are to blame for the whole thing. I would rather think it was they than that the note had been written by some unknown person." Leila's blue eyes were dark with emotion. "And that beloved child trotted blindly off by herself never dreaming that the note was a forgery. Well, I might have done the same."

"I think you are right, Leila. The Sans have planned some kind of seance at that empty house to scare Marjorie. Probably they have dressed up in some hideous fashion. They could easily get away with it on account of the masquerade. The sooner we get there the better. We may be able to catch them, unless they have got hold of her and hustled her off somewhere else." Ronny's voice was not quite steady on the last words.

The seven worried rescuers were now crossing the campus and making for the campus entrance nearest the direction of Miss Towne's boarding house. They were swinging along at a pace that would have done credit to an army detachment on a hike.

"She wouldn't stand for that. She would fight every inch of the ground before she would go a step with that gang." Jerry spoke with a confidence born of her knowledge of Marjorie.

"They might be too many for her," reminded Leila. "What's to prevent them from throwing a shawl or something over her head so that she would be more or less helpless? I would not put it past Leslie Cairns."

"They wouldn't dare be rough with her or hurt her, would they?" questioned Anna Towne.

"No; but this empty house proposition is about as bad as I would care to tackle. They certainly have nerve." Jerry's plump features had lost their infantile expression. Here face was set in lines of belligerence. She was ready to pitch into the Sans the minute she caught sight of them.

"This is the street. We are not far from the house now," informed Anna, as the seven turned into the humble neighborhood in which her boarding house was located.

"Look!" Jerry, who was leading with Ronny, stopped and pointed. "There is a light in that house. Let's stop a minute and decide what to do."

"We had better go around to the rear of the house and see if we can't get in by the back door," suggested Vera. "After all, we are only seven in number, and we don't know what awaits us. We are fairly sure that she is in the clutches of the Sans. Even so, they are sure to have the front door locked. They are stupid enough to forget all about the back door. They are not expecting any interference."

"You girls go around to the back. I am going up on the veranda. I shall try the front door. If it is unlocked I will let you know. I'd rather walk in on them that way, if we can. Now for some scouting. Don't make a sound if you can help it, girls. We want to take them by surprise."

Separating from her companions, who stole noiselessly to the shadowy rear of the house, Jerry cautiously invaded the front porch. The shade which had been raised a little when Marjorie had come to the house was now drawn. Still she could see that the room on the right was lighted. With the stealth of a burglar she tried the door. It was locked. She listened at it, then stood up with a triumphant smile. From within she could hear the sound of voices.

As softly as she had stolen up on the porch, she now withdrew. Her feet on the ground, she ran like a deer for the rear of the house. There she beheld dimly a group of figures drawn into a compact bunch near the back steps.

"Front door's locked. How about the back one?" she breathed.

"It's unlocked. Ronny just tried it," Leila whispered. "She says she can open it and go inside without making a sound."

"Of course. She's a great dancer, you know, and light as a feather in stepping. Oh, fudge! You don't know. At least you didn't until I told you. I have given away Ronny's secret. She made us promise not to tell it right after the beauty contest. I don't care. I am glad you know it. I have always wished you and Helen and Vera could see her dance. She is a marvel."

At this juncture Ronny joined them. In the darkness she did not see Leila's Cheshire cat grin, born of Jerry's unintentional betrayal. Leila had often remarked to Marjorie, who had told her of Ronny's concealment of her real identity at Sanford High School, that Veronica was a good deal of a mystery still.

"That you, Jeremiah?" was Ronny's whispered inquiry. "I am going to slip in the back way and find out what is going on. Was the front door locked?"

"Yes; but I could hear voices from where I stood on the veranda. I couldn't sort 'em out so as to know who was who."

"I'll soon find out whose they are." Ronny shut her lips in sharp determination. "Now for the great venture." Immediately she glided away, and mounted the steps with the noiseless tread of an apparition. The tense watchers heard no sound as she opened the door and stepped inside.



CHAPTER XXII.

THE BITER BITTEN.

For five minutes they waited in silence. It seemed to them much longer than that when, quietly as she had gone, Ronny re-appeared on the top step of the dingy little porch.

"She's in there," were her first words on reaching the waiting group. "We are just in time to make it interesting for the Sans. Now listen to my plan. What we are to do is this. I have this long black cloak and my mask. It's black too. I am going to scare those girls within an inch of their wretched lives. They are masked and in dominoes. You can imagine what Marjorie went through for a minute. I know a dance called the dance of the vampire bat. It is terribly, horribly gruesome. I am going to prance in on them with that. I have danced it in this very cloak. See how full it is." Ronny held up a fold for inspection. "I can make it look like wings. Then with the dance goes a very scary noise, half sigh, half whistle. By that dim candlelight in there it will be awful. Marjorie won't be scared. She has seen me dance it.

"The rest of you follow me," Ronny continued rapidly. "Leila you come first, right behind me. Stop at the door where you can't be seen from inside of the front room and line up behind Leila, girls. Count fifty, Leila, after I am fairly in the room, then start that awful banshee wail you know how to give. At the first sound of it I am going to blow out the candle. Then the Sans are going to take to the woods. The minute I blow the last candle I shall grab Marjorie by the hand and flee for the back door. As soon as Leila has wailed twice every one of you make the most horrible sound you know as loudly as you can and hustle for the back door howling as you go. They will all try to get out the front door and in the darkness they will have a fine time of it. If they get a few bumps and scratches in the dark it will serve them precisely right. What you must be sure of is to get out of their way the instant the last candle is put out by yours truly. The whole thing must be carried out like a flash. I depend on your support."

"You are a wonder," chuckled Leila. "My stars, what a party we shall have, with vampire bats, banshees and the like. We shall howl our best for Beauty. Vera makes a fine banshee, too. Now lead us on and confusion to the enemy."

Headed by Ronny the rescuing procession stole up the steps. They landed in the kitchen of the house and made their way through it and into the room adjoining which communicated with the short hall on both sides of which the two front rooms were situated.

Due to Leslie Cairns' shrewd business methods the "high tribunal" stood in no fear of interruption. Leslie, finding the house vacant, had rented it of the agent for six months. She had stated that a few of the students intended to fit it up as a private gymnasium. As the agent's mind dwelt only on the glorious fact that he had been handed six months' rental in advance, after charging a rate per month which was three times more than the house was worth. Beyond that he was not interested in the tenants.

The august tribunal had taken pains to lock the front door after them. Due to a squabble among themselves on their arrival at the house, the back door had remained unlocked. Dulcie Vale had been roughly ordered by Leslie to see to it. Dulcie was sulking, however, at Leslie's high-handed manner. She resolved to take her time about it. Then her interest centered on something else, momentarily, and she forgot it.

About the time that the worried rescuers were starting from Wayland Hall, Marjorie was throwing fearless defiance in the faces of her captors. Her contemptuous arraignment, ending with an allusion to the affair on the campus of the previous March, was highly displeasing to her masked listeners. Angry murmurs arose from behind masks and several sibilant hisses cut the storm-laden air.

"Ssss! Death! Show no mercy!" were some of the pleasant returns that met Marjorie's ear.

The Scarlet Mask, thus-called, made a sudden move toward Marjorie as though to lay violent hold upon her. The other masked figures also took a step nearer. Marjorie braced herself to meet an attack, if it came to that. There was a steady light in her brown eyes which the Scarlet Mask did not miss seeing. She contented herself with stopping short directly in front of Marjorie and staring fixedly at her. The effect of two malignant eyes peering through the eye-holes of the hideous false face would have been terrifying to a timid girl. Marjorie was not to be intimidated.

"Prisoner, your remarks are unseemly and ill befit your serious situation." It was evident the wily intention of the Scarlet Mask to ignore the guilty truth which Marjorie had flung at the masked assemblage. "You are one against many. It is not the purpose of the high tribunal to allow you to escape. You are at our mercy until such time as we shall choose to release you. You are pleased to pretend that our identity is known to you. You little know those before whom you now stand. You are in the presence of a group of stern avengers, sworn to see justice done to those whom you have maligned. Were we to remove our masks you would find yourself in the company of strangers. We know you. You do not know us. I warn——"

"Save your warnings, Miss Cairns. I am not in the least interested in them," interrupted Marjorie with dry contempt. "You might be able to make a child of nine years believe you. I doubt even that. I have heard of this foolishness. Malicious as it is intended to be, it is too trivial to be deceiving. You will kindly unlock the front door and let me go."

A subdued chorus of derisive laughter, mingled with hisses arose from the "stern avengers." One of the tallest stepped out from the circle, which they had gradually been forming about Marjorie, and bowed low before the Scarlet Mask.

"I recommend, your highness, that the prisoner be taught at once proper respect for the high tribunal of the Scarlet Mask." The request was made in a voice that aspired to bass depths. It fell short enough of them for Marjorie to identify it as feminine, although she did not know to whom it belonged. She had had so slight an acquaintance with the Sans from the beginning.

"The prisoner will be taught proper respect immediately," vindictively assured the Scarlet Mask. Up went a scarlet-draped arm in an imperious gesture to a domino directly behind Marjorie.

Like a flash, Marjorie whirled about to guard herself. It was precisely what the Scarlet Mask wished her to do. In the instant she turned the figure nearest the leader whisked something white from the voluminous folds of her domino. Marjorie felt herself being enveloped from head to waist in what seemed to be the heavy open meshes of a veil. It was, in reality, a large piece of fish net. She struggled furiously to free herself from it. While she struggled with two of the figures who were attempting to hold her, a third was busy securing the net in a hard knot at her back. As Marjorie was wearing a fur coat and cap, her attire was sufficiently bulky to prevent the net from being drawn very close. She had taken off her mask the moment she had left the campus behind her, so she could at least breathe without difficulty.

Not content with the indignity they had trickily put upon her, two of the dominoes caught her by the shoulders and began forcing her toward a corner of the room. The others followed, closing in upon the trio, so that the silent, but still wrathfully-struggling prisoner would have no chance to make a sudden dash for the door when released.

The Scarlet Mask, now at the edge of the crowd which hemmed Marjorie in, elbowed a rough way to where she stood.

"How do you like our methods now, prisoner?" was the satirical question. "You are going to leave us at once, are you? Why don't you go? 'You will kindly unlock the front door,' etc. Oh, my! Naturally we would be keen on doing so after the pains we took to secure your distinguished attendance here tonight. How very sweet you look behind a veil. Too bad you don't wear one all the time. You would——"

"May it please your highness," interrupted a domino in hollow tones, "the time is going. I would advise that we leave here at once with the prisoner. A ride in the still night air may cool her fevered brain so that when we return with her she will be in a more reasonable mood."

"I am also of that opinion," agreed a second. Several other voices rose in approval of the plan.

The Scarlet Mask turned on them in a hurry. Not only angry at being interrupted in her harassing of the prisoner, she did not propose to take any dictation from her companions.

"Who is running this affair?" she asked in the familiar tones of Leslie Cairns, minus her drawl. "This little, puffed-up hypocrite is not going to leave here until she promises to mind her own business hereafter. She is also going to promise not to tell where she has been tonight. She may think she won't, but she will, or spend the rest of the night alone here."

A murmur of dissenting voices at once ascended. Half a dozen dominoes tried to force an opinion upon the Scarlet Mask at once. Eager to be heard, there was small attempt made at disguising voices.

"You idiots!" Leslie rebuked in a rage, when finally able to make herself heard. "Have you no sense? Listen to me." Whereupon she centered her displeased attention on her helpers and berated them roundly for daring to set up an opinion contrary to her own.

The dissenting dominoes were not to be silenced thus easily and a spirited altercation began. There were several of the masked company who were hotly against a punishment such as their leader proposed to visit upon Marjorie. Meanwhile, the cause of the altercation listened to what went on with emotions which were a mingling of wrath and amusement. If she had needed evidence to convince her that her captors were the Sans, she had it now. She knew from Leila that the Sans were noted for quarreling among themselves.

After the violent manner in which she had been jerked into the untenanted house, she had not doubted that she might meet with further rough treatment. She knew that Leslie Cairns was quite apt to go as far as she dared. She resolved to show, no fear of her captors. She disliked intensely the idea of hand to hand encounter with them. It was utterly beneath her standards. Still she did not hesitate to warn them that she would defend herself if forced to do so. Once she was free of them she had not decided what she would do, further than that she would set off for the gymnasium post haste. Even before the unmasking her chums would miss her. If only she could reach the dance prior to that!

"S—hh! Keep your voices down!" warned a domino who had taken no part in the ill-natured discussion. "I believe you can be heard clear out in the street."

"Mind your business," snapped the Scarlet Mask. "I pay the rent here. It's nobody's business how much noise we make. Who amounts to a button on this alley? Don't be so cowardly. Even Bean has more nerve than you."

This produced a laugh at "Bean's" expense. Behind her enforced veil Marjorie could not repress a noiseless chuckle. How she wished that someone would hear her captors and come to her assistance. No such thing was likely to happen.

The admonishing domino, hitherto peaceful, now took umbrage. "You can't tell me to mind my own business or call me a coward," she stormily hurled at the scarlet executive. "You make me exceedingly weary!" Her further candid opinion was not calculated to flatter.

"What you need is a midnight session here with Miss Bean," declared the Scarlet Mask, with a touch of cool purpose which caused the angry domino to flare up afresh.

"Try it, and see what happens to you," was her instant retort.

"Oh, forget it. I merely said you needed it. I didn't say you would be left here. You are the last person I expected would go back on me." This with intent to mollify.

"Well, you shouldn't have——" The somewhat placated rebel suddenly paused. "Hark!" She held up a hand for silence. "I thought I heard a noise."

"Someone going by in the street," the Scarlet Mask asserted, after listening attentively for a moment. At the ejaculation "Hark!" the eyes of the other maskers had been directed with one accord to the door. After a brief interval of uneasy silence the discussion regarding the prisoner was resumed.

The recently ruffled avenger who had given the alarm still continued to watch the door. She was not satisfied with her leader's explanation of the sound. Thus she was the first to note a shadow fall athwart the doorway. Her eyes widened with fear to behold an odd, black, winged shape hover an instant on the threshold, then flit noiselessly into the room. It did not advance on the group collected in one corner of the room. It lurched and dipped toward the windows like a huge sable hawk about to swoop down on a chicken yard.



CHAPTER XXIII.

APPARITION OF THE NIGHT.

"A-h-h-h!" gasped the startled watcher, pointing in horror.

"Wh-h-s-s-ss!" The gruesome apparition uttered a sighing, hissing sound which increased in a weird, half-muffled whistle. Simultaneous with the whistle it darted to the nearest candle, extinguishing it with one whining "Puf-f-f!" With horrid grotesquerie it flapped toward another candle, bent on putting it out.

The hood of the voluminous soft black cape which Ronny was wearing was slightly frilled. She had cunningly adjusted it so as to give her masked features an entirely different effect from that of an ordinary domino and mask. A moment's calm inspection would have assured the hazing party that the uncanny visitant was as human as themselves. Her spectacular entrance coupled with the one domino's fear-stricken alarm, had produced upon the hazers the precise effect Ronny had expected to produce. Too greatly startled to take action, a wild, long-drawn, piercing wailing next set in which was not quieting to the nerves. Nor had it ceased when a second eerie voice took it up in a higher key.

By the dim flare of the one remaining lighted candle, the flapping, swaying shape and its hideous moaning whistle became invested with fresh dread, augmented as it was by that volume of ear-piercing echoing sound. Suddenly the last candle winked out, leaving the dismayed avengers in Stygian darkness. Their sharp cries and frightened exclamations were summarily drowned, however, by a new pandemonium of blood-curdling shrieks and groans which proceeded from the hall. Through the half open door leading into the hall came a menacing shuffle as of countless approaching feet. It was the final touch needed to demoralize the hazers. Forgetful of the two front windows, they bolted with one accord for the door opening into the hall, as nearly as each could locate it in the dark. Had a real enemy been present the hazers would have run straight into the arms of the hostile force. Their one idea was to get out of the house with all speed. As it was they showed a temerity born of panic.

In the midst of the hub-bub, Marjorie had experienced nothing more than a faint stirring of alarm at sight of the bat-like apparition. She knew Ronny instantly, and, guessing her purpose, prudently drew far back into the corner.

"Come with me." Marjorie now felt the joy of a familiar arm across her shoulders. "The window. I just opened it. Quick," breathed Ronny. "I'll steer you to it. We must get away before they open the front door. It's locked and they will have their own troubles unlocking it in the dark."

In a flash the two had crossed the room to the open window. The moment she had extinguished the last candle Ronny had flitted to the window and raised it under cover of the stampede. Through the fish net which enveloped her Marjorie could see a little, in spite of the shadow cast by the veranda.

"Can you use your arms enough through that net to help swing yourself over the sill? It is very low."

"I can manage," Marjorie softly reassured.

Standing behind her, Ronny gave her chum such assistance as she could while Marjorie essayed a swift exit from the room which had lately prisoned her. The instant she found footing on the veranda, Ronny followed her. Catching Marjorie by the arm she said: "Run for the back of the house. I forgot to tell the girls where to meet us. I think they will wait for us there."

A few running steps brought them to the rear of the house. A little group of dark figures hurried forward to meet them. The six girls had got away from the house without trouble.

"All's well," Ronny was smiling in the darkness out of sheer satisfaction. "Let's go at once. We had better cross the next three back yards and come out to the street from between them. Hurry. We haven't a second to lose. We ought not talk until we are on the campus again."

Silently, and with all speed, the elated fugitives put Ronny's advice into practice. Once in the street they proceeded north, putting distance between them and the Sans' rendezvous. It was a trifle farther to the campus by the way they took, but none of them minded that. All were too full of elation over the success of their adventure to think of much else.

"The campus at last!" exclaimed Leila as the rescue party reached the gateway. "Let us stop just inside the gate and untie Beauty. She looks like a veiled Oriental in that rigging." Suiting the action to the word she began on the hard knot at Marjorie's back. "While I work, keep a sharp lookout for the other crowd," she directed. "This knot is no simple affair. What time is it, Luciferous?"

"Fifteen minutes past nine." Lucy held her wrist so that the rays of the arc light over the gate fell directly upon her watch.

"Untied; thank my stars! Some knot!" Leila flipped the undesired net from Marjorie. Rolling it up she tucked it under her arm. "Unmasking is at nine-thirty. Let us be there. We can just make it, and it will puzzle some persons to tell who interrupted them tonight. Our talk will wait until after unmasking. Then we can dodge into one of the side rooms and have it out."

"A fine plan," endorsed Ronny. "We are in luck to get here in time enough for the unmasking."

The others heartily agreeing, the octette again set off in a hurry for the gymnasium. Five minutes afterward they were entering its welcome portal. They were obliged to make a frantic dash for the coat room. Once there, wraps and overshoes were removed with gleeful haste. The belated masqueraders entered the gymnasium just as the last, lingering strains of a waltz were being played. It had hardly died away when the stentorian order "Unmask!" was shouted out by a junior through a megaphone.

"Here's where Muriel wins that dinner at Baretti's," declared Jerry ruefully. "I certainly did not walk up to her and say, 'Hello, Muriel.' Wonder where she is? I haven't the least idea what her costume is."

"For the sake of old Ireland!" called Leila, pointing. "Now will you kindly take notice?"

A little shout of laughter burst from the participants in the recent adventure as they obeyed Leila's exclamatory request. Coming toward them at a carefully simulated stride was a handsome young man in evening dress. From his silk opera hat to his patent leather ties he was a most elegant person. He was not a particularly gallant youth, however, for his first words on approaching the mirthful group were:

"Don't, for goodness' sake, ask me to take off my hat. How about that dinner you promised me, Jeremiah?"

"Yes, I guess so. Oh, but you are polite! Greet us with your hat on and beg for a dinner invitation. My, my! What are the young men of the present day coming to?" Jerry held up her hands in mock disapproval. "Anyway, you win. Your costume is a dandy. I never would have known you."

"What may your name be, young man?" inquired Leila, her eyes dancing.

"You may call me Mr. Harding. I shall not tell you my first name until I know you better," replied Muriel with an attempt at pompous dignity which ended in a hearty laugh. Setting her high hat on the back of her head she thrust her hands in her pockets and beamed on her friends.

"You look for all the world like a debonair young man," Marjorie said admiringly.

"Thank you. Sorry about my hat. To take it off spoils the masculine effect. My hair is rolled under to look short. My hat keeps it in place. But never mind about me. Where have you girls been? I knew what your costumes were to be, so I watched for you from the minute I got here. Confess; you wore dominos over them so that I wouldn't know you. A number of girls did that on purpose to throw their friends off the track."

"Wrong guess, Muriel. We weren't here at all until about two minutes before the unmasking." Jerry tried to speak carelessly, but could not keep an excited note out of her voice.

"You weren't? Honestly?" Muriel showed bewildered surprise. "You weren't in dominos? Then where were you? Something's happened. I can read that in your faces." She glanced almost challengingly about the half circle.

"Something happened, all right enough," replied Jerry with grim emphasis. "Marjorie has been through a real adventure tonight. She's been hazed by the Sans and rescued by the Lookouts and a few more good scouts."



CHAPTER XXIV.

AFTER THE FRAY.

Closeted in one of the small rooms off the gymnasium, rescuers and rescued told their separate tales of what had happened that evening. Muriel was the only other girl at the private session they held. She heartily mourned the fact that she had not been with her chums. Even the glories of parading about in masculine attire faded beside the evening's adventure.

"What are you going to do about it, Beauty?" Leila asked almost sharply, when the affair had been thoroughly gone over from both standpoints. Dressed as Finestra, a Celtic witch woman, Leila made a striking figure in her white and green robes as she sat on the low wall bench, hands loosely clasped over one knee, her vivid features alive with disapproval.

"I don't know. Nothing, I guess." Marjorie smiled into Leila's moody face. "It will scare them worse just to leave them in doubt as to whether or not they will be called to account. I can't prove that those dominos were the Sans, for I didn't see their faces. Of course, if I accused them of hazing me, in making a report to President Matthews, they would probably be summoned and put through an inquiry. In that case some of them would be certain to weaken and confess."

"True," Leila nodded. "Dr. Matthews would be hard on them. He is so bitterly opposed to hazing. It would stir up a great commotion. They would be expelled. They ought to be," she added with force.

"Certainly they ought," concurred Jerry, "but who cares to be the one to report 'em? I was thinking out the whole thing when we made our get-away from that house. They don't know and they are never going to, unless we tell them, who Ronny was or who did the howling. When they experience a return of brains, for they certainly were rattled, they will naturally guess that the surprise came from students. What they won't be able to figure out is whether they were hazed by another crowd or by Marjorie's supporters."

"They couldn't be sure that Marjorie would not leave word with some of us as to where she was going," put in Lucy, "even though someone did put that line in the letter asking her not to mention it."

"They must have had high ideas of her sense of honor," smiled Vera.

"I felt queer about telling the Lookouts, yet I believed it fair," Marjorie said quietly. "I am glad I did. And now let's forget it and go and have a good time. We really ought to enjoy ourselves hugely, for I doubt whether a single Sans will appear on the scene tonight. If they do it will be late. I hope none of them were hurt in the dark," she added charitably.

"Their fault if they were." Leila rose, her brooding face lighting suddenly. "You have a most forgiving heart, Beauty. As for myself, a few sound bumps will do them no harm. Make no mistake. Those of the Sans who are presentable," she smiled broadly, "will get here as soon as they can. All of them absent would be a grand expose. Some must appear to take the curse off the wounded."

At that very moment the members of the high tribunal of the Scarlet Mask were engaged in trying to make themselves presentable enough to attend the dance. A crestfallen and weary company of avengers, they had at last made harbor at Wayland Hall. Miss Remson had retired early on account of a severe cold. The dance having claimed the other residents of the Hall, there was no one to mark the line of dominos which stole cat-footed up the stairs. There was considerable repairing to be done both to persons and costumes before the Sans could appear in college society. In that mad scramble to leave the dingy house, which Leslie Cairns had rented with so much satisfaction, there had been casualties.

Natalie Weyman's cheek bore a long disfiguring scratch, caused from a too near contact with a fancy pin or ornament. A jab from someone's elbow had decorated Dulcie Vale with a black eye. Leslie Cairns, who had essayed to unlock the front door in the dark, declared resentfully that she had received more kicks, thumps and bruises than all the others had put together. Due to the fact that the whole party had worn flat-heeled, black leather slippers, which had been purchased in the men's department of a Hamilton shoe store, the casualties were less serious. Leslie had insisted on this measure as a further means of disguising their sex. The hazers had worn their masquerade costumes under their dominos, having been told by Leslie that they would not be more than an hour at the untenanted house. They could easily drop into the Hall and change slippers on their return. It had been Leslie's private intention to leave Marjorie there all night. Joan Myers, Natalie Weyman and Dulcie Vale knew this. The others did not. Hence the objections which had arisen, resulting in the quarrel that had been their undoing.

There was not one of the hazing party who had entirely escaped injury. Tender toes had been trampled upon, jarring jolts administered, and scratches and bruises distributed ad libitum. Leslie was outwardly morose. Her inner emotions were too complex to be analyzed. They were a mixture of hate, fear, baffled pride and humiliation. The cherished scheme, concocted by her in the autumn, and on which she had spent so much time and money, had utterly fallen through. Exposure and disgrace stared herself and her companions in the face. Had not Marjorie contemptuously called her by name? While she could not prove her surmise, she could report the Sans on suspicion to Doctor Matthews.

Now that it was all over, Leslie realized bitterly that she and her companions had behaved like a flock of demoralized geese. She had been as badly startled as the others by the appearance of the bat-like figure. She had recently read a very horrible tale entitled "The Bat Girl." It had haunted her for several nights after the reading. Ronny's clever imitation of a huge bat had momentarily paralyzed her with fear. The unearthly shrieks, wails and moans had also served the purpose of the invaders. Leslie sullenly wished her own plan had been half as well carried out. It was all the fault of her pals. They were always disagreeing. They never worked together. They never exhibited good sense in an emergency. Leslie decided that they should bear the blame for the fiasco. They would hear from her in scathing terms when she felt equal to upbraiding them.

She had been the first one to reach the front door. Feeling for the key, which was in the lock, she had fumbled it and dropped it on the floor. As she had stooped to pick it up, she had been knocked to her knees by the onrush of the others. Callously, she had struck right and left for room to get to her feet. The key had remained on the floor. Knowing that she could not secure it until the wild onslaught on the door had stopped, she had tried frantically to make herself heard above the hub-bub. It was of no use.

Presently the panic-stricken Sans had begun to understand her hoarsely-shouted words: "Stand still. The key's dropped to the floor." By that time the wails of the invaders had ceased and their footsteps had died out. An odd silence had suddenly descended upon the Sans. Very meekly they had obeyed Leslie's rude order, "Get out of my way," as she had turned on a small flashlight and located the key. The door opened at last, not a word had been spoken as the dominoed procession filed out into the starry night. Leslie had stepped out first. Stationing herself on the veranda, she had counted them as they passed, to be sure none were missing. "Save your talking until you get to the Hall," she had curtly commanded. "Down the street and hustle for the campus. Keep together."

Bruised and sore, the avengers had again obeyed her without much protest. Dulcie Vale had attempted a belligerent remark but had been promptly silenced by: "You had better keep still. You are the person who claimed she locked the back door. If so, how, then, did that mob of freaks get in? I don't believe they had a key."

Leslie had not condescended to speak again until they had reached the Hall. At the foot of the drive she had halted her party and given them further curt orders as to their manner of procedure. Her final instruction had been: "Get ready for the dance, then come to my room. Wear evening coats. It is too late for dominos now. The unmasking is over long ago. If you're asked any questions simply say we had a dinner engagement before the dance; that we thought it fun to dress in costume but did not care to mask. Now remember, that goes."

It was half-past ten o'clock before the entire eighteen gathered in Leslie's room. Both Natalie's and Dulcie's facial disfigurements were such as to prevent their attendance of the dance. Leslie laughed outright at sight of Dulcie. "You are pretty," she jeered. Dulcie's wrath rose, but she swallowed it. She did not care to be taxed further about the trust she had betrayed. Margaret Wayne had twisted her right ankle almost to the point of sprain. Harriet Stephens had a lump on her forehead, caused by a forcible collision with the wall. Eleanor Ray limped slightly from having her toes stepped on. These five declined stoutly to leave the Hall again that night.

"You can't very well go; that's flat," Leslie agreed. "I ought to stay here, too. See that." She turned her back, displaying a large discoloration on one shoulder about two inches above the low-cut bodice of the old gold satin evening gown she wore. She had not troubled herself to dress in costume. "That's what happened to me when you girls knocked me down and tried to walk on me. It is up to me to go over to the gym. I'll wear a gold lace scarf I have. This will hide this bruise. All of you who look like something had better go with me. I don't know what Bean will do. No matter what she tells or how far she goes, you girls are to deny to the end that you were at that house tonight. No one saw our faces. Who, then is going to say, positively, that she saw us, either at that house or on the campus? If we all say we were not the ones who hazed Bean, and stick to it, I defy the whole college to prove it against us."



CHAPTER XXV.

THE BITTERNESS OF DEFEAT.

What "Bean" intended to do in the matter of her recent hazing was a question which worried the Sans considerably during the next few days. The very fact that they had escaped, thus far, without even having been quizzed by any of the students regarding that fateful evening puzzled them. True, they suspected Marjorie's four chums and Leila and Vera as having been among those who broke up the hazing party. They cherished an erroneous belief, however, that there were at least fifteen or twenty of the invaders.

It was gall and wormwood to those of the Sans who attended the dance in its closing hour to see Marjorie, radiantly pretty, enjoying herself as though she had never been through a trying experience only three hours before. By common consent the rescue party, as well as Marjorie, paid no more attention to the Sans than if they had not been present. The dance had been such an unusually pleasant affair! More than one girl remarked early in the evening to her closest friends that things went along so much better when a certain clique of girls were absent. The Sans' junior classmates were not pleased at their late attendance of the masquerade. They criticized the Sans as selfish and lacking in proper class spirit. Thus the Sans fashioned a new rod that night for their backs of which they were destined later to feel the sting.

The day following the masquerade the sophomore team sent the junior team an acceptance of their challenge. This mystified the Sans five even more. Under the circumstances they had expected and even hoped their challenge would be declined. A refusal on the part of the sophomore team to play them would give them an opportunity to intimate that their opponents were afraid to meet them for fear of being beaten. Deep in their hearts the Sans five were the real cowards. They dreaded playing against Marjorie and Muriel in particular. As Leslie gloomily said to Natalie, "Bean and that Harding snip will certainly get back at you if they can. I imagine Robina Page was one of that crowd who gave us the run."

Leslie had been terribly out of sorts since the failure of her plot. She did not know where she stood at Hamilton as regarded safety. She was highly disgruntled by the lack of cordiality shown her and her chums by many students whom she had considered friendly to her. It was being forced upon her, little by little, that the Sans were losing ground. They had sworn to win back their lost power of the previous year. They had not done this. Now the game with the sophomores must be played and she was not in the mood to coach her team, nor were they in the mood to play. She doubted if they would dare make use of "the soft talk." The freshman team had expressed themselves quite openly on that subject about the campus. When taxed with it once or twice by juniors who had learned of it and deferred judgment, Leslie had replied with sarcastic bravado that the freshies had evidently "heard things" during the game which no one else heard.

The game being scheduled for the twenty-seventh of February, Leslie allowed her bruised and shaken team three days' rest. After that time she fairly drove them to private practice. She pestered Ramsey, the coach, for new and sure methods of winning points from an antagonist until he resolved within himself to "beat it" for New York on the day of the game and leave no address. He had received a lump sum in advance for his coaching, so he had no scruples about deserting the ship.

Her five satellites complained bitterly at having to practice every day. All of them had received warnings in one subject or another and needed their time for study. Leslie was adamant. "Just this one game," she said over and over again. "After that we will settle down to work. I am not doing as well as I ought in my subjects. But you must play the sophs and beat them if you can. Don't try any of those new stunts Ramsey showed you unless you can put them over so cleverly no one will know the difference. You will have to be careful. You have a touchy proposition to tackle."

Alarmed at the gradual decrease in their own popularity, the Sans five practiced assiduously during the week preceding the game. They hoped to make a good showing on their own merits. The coach glibly assured them that they were doing wonderful work with the ball. Toward the last of their practice they began to believe it themselves.

They continued to believe thus until after the first five minutes of the game on the following Saturday. With the gymnasium filled by a clamorous aggregation of students, the toss-up was made and the game begun. The sophomore five took the lead from the first and put the Sans five through a pace that made them fairly gasp. All thought of cheating abandoned, they fought desperately to score. They were not allowed to make a single point. Behind the resolution of the sophs to win they demonstrated a peculiarly personal antagonistic force which their opponents felt, dimly at first, keenly afterward. It was the fastest game that had been played for many a year at Hamilton and it ended in a complete whitewash for the juniors. They retired from the floor too utterly vanquished to do other than indulge in a dismal cry in concert once the door of their dressing room had closed upon them.

Thus Leslie found them. Signally discouraged, she experienced a momentary desire to cry with them. She fought it down, gruffly advising her chums not to cry their eyes out in case they might need them later.

"Don't be so simple," was her barren consolation. "You don't see me bathed in salt weeps, do you? No, sir. Forget basket ball. I swear I'll never have anything more to do with it. I'll send that Ramsey packing tomorrow. From now on, I'm going to keep up in my classes and after classes enjoy myself. If we can't run the college now, that's no sign we never will. We can be exclusive. There are enough of us to do that. I don't believe Bean and her crowd are going to tell any tales on us. For the rest of the year we'll just amuse ourselves in our own way."

"It's almost a year since we started to rag Miss Dean and had so much trouble over that affair," half-sobbed Dulcie Vale. "You are always making plans to get even with someone you don't like, Leslie Cairns, and dragging us into them. You never win. You always get the worst of it. I don't intend to go into any more such schemes with you. My father said if ever I was expelled from college he would make me take a position in his office. Think of that!" Dulcie's voice rose to a scream.

"He did? Well, don't tell everybody in the gym about it," Leslie advised, then laughed. Her laughter was echoed in quavering fashion by the other weepers. Under their false and petty ideas of life there was still so much of the eagerness of girlhood to be liked, to succeed and to be happy. Only they were obstinately traveling the wrong road in search of it.

Out in the gymnasium the winning team were being carried about the great room on the shoulders of admiring and noisy fans. Marjorie smiled to herself as she reflected that this was a pleasant ending of her basket-ball days. She had firmly determined not to play during the next year. Standing among her teammates afterward, surrounded by a circle of enthusiastic fans, it was borne upon her that she knew a great many Hamilton girls. She had not thought her friendly acquaintances among them so large.

"You did what Muriel said you folks would do," Jerry exulted, when, congratulations over, Muriel and Marjorie were free to join their chums. "You laid the junies up for the winter. That team must have been crazy to challenge you. They played well, for them. Against your five—good night! A whitewash! Think of it!"

"They deserved it." Marjorie's eyes lost their smiling light. The curves of her red lips straightened a trifle. "We paid them for ragging the freshies. They have had two hard defeats inside of two weeks. They ought to retire on them. They are lucky in that we haven't made trouble for them. Between you and me, Jeremiah, the Sans are not gaining an inch at Hamilton. The juniors are peeved with them for not taking proper interest in the Valentine dance. Many of the seniors disapprove of them, particularly since the game they won dishonestly from the freshies. Only a handful of the sophs cling to them. The freshies—I don't know. They are still about half Sans-bound. Just the same, democracy at Hamilton isn't on the wane. It's on the gain."



CHAPTER XXVI.

ON MAY-DAY NIGHT.

The whitewashing which the sophomore team gave the Sans five, who had so illy represented the juniors at basket ball, was a defeat the Sans found hard to endure. Adopting Leslie's advice, they carried their heads high and affected great exclusiveness. They also entered upon a career of lavish expenditure within their own circle calculated to attract and impress those who had formerly shown respect for them and their money. It was successful in a measure. They could be snobbish without trying. Nevertheless, they knew they had lost irretrievably. The backbone of their pernicious influence was broken.

A warm and early spring brought the basket-ball season to a close sooner than usual. Despite Marjorie's resolve not to play again, she took part in one more game against the freshman. The sophs won by four points, but the freshies were such a gallant five, they came in for almost an equal amount of applause. They were dear to the hearts of the sports-loving element of students.

As spring advanced with her thousand soft airs and graces, it seemed to Marjorie that a new era of good feeling had come to Hamilton College.

"College is nearer my ideal of it than it used to be," she said to Jerry one bright afternoon in late April, as the two stood on the steps of the Hall waiting for Helen, Leila and Vera, who had gone to the garage for Leila's car. The five girls were going to Hamilton on a shopping expedition. The first of May at hand, the Lookouts and their intimates were going to follow the old custom of hanging May baskets. Leila had proposed it. The others had hailed the idea with avidity.

"Mine, too," nodded Jerry. "When first we came back here we thought we would have to depend on our own little crowd for our good times. Now we have more invitations than we can accept. It's the same with lots of the other girls, too. There's a really friendly spirit abroad on the campus. The day of democracy is at hand."

"I hope so. Anyway, things are pleasanter here than when we enrolled. Of course, we know many of the students now. That makes a difference. Still, there isn't the same chill in the social atmosphere that there used to be. Here comes our good old chauffeur, Leila Greatheart. She has been obliging and unselfish enough with us all to deserve a carload of May baskets. How many are you going to hang, Jeremiah?"

"About a dozen, more or less," Jerry replied indefinitely. "I'll see how expert I shall be at making them."

"I'm going to make Leila a green one and fill it with pistachio bars and green and white candies. On top I'll put a green and gold lace pin I bought yesterday in Hamilton. I'll make Vera a pale pink one and fill it with French bon-bons. I shall give her a very beautiful string of coral beads that Captain gave me long ago. Vera and Leila have both been so dear about taking us around in their cars, I want to make them special presents. The other baskets I shall just fill with candy or flowers."

"We'll have to make a trip to the florist's late on May-day afternoon or our posies won't be fresh to put in the baskets. I shall buy some little fancy baskets if I can find them. My own handiwork may not turn out very well." Jerry had prudently decided to be on the safe side.

Filled with the goodwill attending the pretty spring-time custom, it was a merry band of shoppers that invaded the Hamilton stores in search of materials for baskets. Crepe paper, ribbon, fancy silk and bright artificial wreaths and boutennieres shown in the millinery windows were purchased in profusion. Dainty baskets were not so easy to obtain. The girls finally found the sizes and shapes they desired at the florist's where they placed their order for May-day blossoms. The confectionery they decided to leave until the day before the basket hanging, so that it would be perfectly fresh. "Don't insult your friends by handing 'em stale candy," was Jerry's advice.

For four evenings following the first shopping trip, a round of gaieties went on in one or another of the basket-makers' rooms. Under their clever fingers the May-time tributes were fashioned rapidly and well. Even Jerry found she could do amazing wonders with crepe paper ribbon and pasteboard, once she had "got the hang of the thing."

The hardest problem which confronted the givers was how to hang their offerings and slip away before the recipient opened her door and nabbed the stealthy donor. As there was only one door knob to each door, the gift baskets must perforce be set in a row before it. Each girl had private dark intent of smashing the ten-thirty rule and creeping out into the hall after lights were out. This would prevent any attempt on the part of jokers to surreptitiously confiscate the fruits of their industry.

Marjorie was confronted by a considerably harder problem. She had a basket to hang which was destined to grace a door quite outside of the Hall. She had purchased a particularly beautiful little willow basket. Through its open work she had run pale violet satin ribbon. A huge bow and long streamers of wider ribbon decorated the handle. The basket was to be filled with long-stemmed single violets which grew in profusion at the north end of the campus. To the curious questions of her chums regarding the lucky recipient of the basket, she merely replied with a laughing shake of her head, "Maybe I'll tell you someday."

When the first pale stars of May-day evening appeared, Marjorie took her violet basket and promptly disappeared. Wearing a plain blue serge coat, a dark sports hat pulled well down over her curls, she crossed the campus at a gentle run and hurried through the west entrance to the highway. Her flower tribute she had covered with a wide black silk scarf. Along the road toward Hamilton Estates she sped, keeping well out of the way of passing automobiles. Onward she went until she reached the gates of Hamilton Arms. She drew a soft breath of satisfaction as she saw that they stood open. She had noticed they were always a little ajar in the day time. She had feared that they might be closed at night.

Seized by a sudden spasm of timidity, she stood still for an instant, listening and peering ahead into the shadows. Then with a gurgling laugh, indicative of her pleasure in the secret expedition, she passed into the grounds and ran noiselessly toward the house at her best speed.

One thing was certain, she told herself, as her feet touched the bottom step of the front veranda, if her presence were discovered there would be no disgrace attached to the apprehension. Her heart was thumping out a lively tattoo however, as she stole up to the heavy double doors and felt for the knocker. There was a light in the hall and in the room at the left of it. Miss Susanna was surely at home. Her hand closing at last upon the object of her search, she stooped and carefully set her basket on the stone threshold. Applying her young strength to the knocker, she waited only to hear it sound inside, then darted for the drive. While she dared not stop to look back, she thought she heard the creak of an opening door when she was halfway down the drive. Slightly winded from her mad dash, she paused outside the gate, flushed and triumphant. Whether the door had opened or not, she had at least succeeded in doing what she had set out to do.



CHAPTER XXVII.

CONCLUSION.

Miss Susanna Hamilton was not the only one to receive an overwhelming surprise that night. Opening the door of her room Marjorie found it dark. With a sharp exclamation she groped for the wall button and flashed on the light. Sheer amazement held her in leash for a moment. The first thing upon which her gaze became fixed was a huge white banner tacked above her couch bed. It bore in large red lettering the legend, "Merry May-day to Marjorie Dean, Marvelous Manager." On the bed, covering it completely, was an array of May baskets that made her gasp. There they were, the very ones she had admired most when her friends were making them.

A trifle dazed at her sudden good fortune, Marjorie stood in rapt contemplation of her friends' tributes. Before she had time to go nearer to examine them, sounds of stifled laughter informed her that she was not alone.

"You may just come out of those dress closets, everyone of you," she called, a tiny catch in her voice. "I know perfectly well that's where you are."

Silence followed her command. Suddenly a louder burst of laughter greeted her ears. From the closets on both sides of the room her chums emerged, fairly tumbling over one another.

"If you will go out by yourself on secret basket-hangings you must expect things to happen while you're gone," Jerry playfully upbraided.

"I never dreamed of any such lovely surprise." Marjorie looked almost distressed. "And I was so mean to my little pals. I wouldn't tell 'em who my violet May basket was for. You shouldn't have taken all this trouble for me, dear children. I'm not worth one little bit of it."

"Go tell that to the second cousin of your grandmother's great aunt," was Leila's refreshing response. "We all have good taste. Don't belittle it. Since you feel a wee bit conscience-stricken over the violet basket, you may square yourself by telling us who it was for."

"I can guess," boasted Muriel. "It was for Miss Humphrey."

"No." Marjorie shook her head.

"Then I don't know; unless it was for Doctor Matthews," Muriel essayed with an innocent air. "You have a speaking acquaintance with him, I believe."

A shout of mirth followed this ingenuous guess.

"Don't guess again," Marjorie implored.

"I won't. I've guessed wrongly both times. I don't know anyone else who might be in line for that scrumptious basket."

"I know where it went, but I'll let Marjorie tell you," Jerry said calmly. "I told the girls they would have time to fix up the surprise before you came back. Vera did that lettering on one of her sheets in about five minutes. Maybe we didn't hustle, though." She had now turned to Marjorie. "Do you believe I know where you were?"

Marjorie looked into Jerry's eyes and smiled. "Yes, I think you know," she answered. "I'm going to tell you all." She swept her friends with affectionate eyes. "That basket was for Miss Susanna. I ran all the way to Hamilton Arms with it. I was a little afraid of getting caught by the servants, but I didn't meet a soul inside the gate."

It was her friends' turn to be astonished. A round of exclamatory remarks went up at the information, followed by eager questions.

"I can't explain why I did it," Marjorie began when the commotion had subsided. "I thought of Miss Susanna when first we planned to hang May baskets. I felt as though she needed one. She will never know who hung it. I hope it makes her happy. What I didn't expect was this." She pointed to her own wealth.

"We felt sorry for you in your lonely old age," giggled Helen. "We thought you needed something to cheer you up. But we're not going to hang around here all evening. We are going to give Miss Remson a May shower. Get the basket you made for her and come along. This is my party. I've ordered Nesselrode pudding and French cakes from the Colonial. Think of that!"

"Wonderful!" Marjorie's eyes were dancing. "She will be so delighted to have a surprise party. She really deserves one."

"So she does, and so did you, and you have had one." Helen dropped a friendly arm over Marjorie's shoulder. Shyly she endeavored to convey an affection she could not put into words. It was a warmth of regard which Marjorie drew from those who had learned to know the fine sweetness of her disposition.

"I think we are the only ones at Hamilton to hang May baskets," Vera observed. "It's a custom that ought to be brought forward."

"It is a beautiful idea." Ronny patted lovingly the big blue bow on her basket for Miss Remson. She was extremely fond of the good little manager.

"We ought to go in for more of that sort of thing next year," asserted Muriel. "Goodness knows we have had enough friction to entitle us to the peaceful pursuit of pleasant things."

"'The pursuit of pleasant things.'" repeated Marjorie. "I like to think of that as our outlook for next year. We have had two years of hard fighting for democracy. I wish we might have peace next year and a chance to invest our Alma Mater with new grace, by bringing back to her some of these beautiful customs. As a junior I am going to think a good deal about Hamilton traditions, too, and impress them on others, if I can."

How truly Marjorie carried out her ardent resolution during her third year at Hamilton will be told in "Marjorie Dean, College Junior."

THE END

———————————————————————————————————-

SAVE THE WRAPPER!

If you have enjoyed reading about the adventures of the new friends you have made in this book and would like to read more clean, wholesome stories of their entertaining experiences, turn to the book jacket—on the inside of it, a comprehensive list of Burt's fine series of carefully selected books for young people has been placed for your convenience.

Orders for these books, placed with your bookstore or sent to the Publishers, will receive prompt attention.

———————————————————————————————————-

MARJORIE DEAN COLLEGE SERIES

By Pauline Lester. Author of the Famous Marjorie Dean High School Series

Those who have read the Marjorie Dean High School Series will be eager to read this new series, as Marjorie Dean continues to be the heroine in these stories.

All Clothbound. Copyright Titles.

PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH POSTAGE 10c EXTRA

MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE FRESHMAN MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SOPHOMORE MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE JUNIOR MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SENIOR

For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by the Publishers

A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 E. 23d St., NEW YORK

———————————————————————————————————-

MARJORIE DEAN HIGH SCHOOL SERIES

By Pauline Lester Author of the Famous Marjorie Dean College Series

These are clean, wholesome stories that will be of great interest to all girls of high school age.

All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles

PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH Postage 10c. Extra.

MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR

For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by the Publishers

A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 E. 23d St., NEW YORK

———————————————————————————————————-

MARJORIE DEAN POST-GRADUATE SERIES

By Pauline Lester Author of the Famous Marjorie Dean High School and College Series.

All Cloth Bound. Copyright Titles.

With Individual Jackets in Colors.

PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH POSTAGE 10c EXTRA

MARJORIE DEAN, POST GRADUATE MARJORIE DEAN, MARVELOUS MANAGER MARJORIE DEAN AT HAMILTON ARMS MARJORIE DEAN'S ROMANCE MARJORIE DEAN MACY

For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by the Publishers

A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 E. 23d St., NEW YORK

THE END