Marjorie Dean, College Freshman

“And it will be victory,” said Veronica, with a sureness of tone that was vastly comforting to Marjorie.

She walked down the stairs and into the living room with Veronica. Lucy, Muriel, Katherine Langly and Jerry were directly in their wake. Chairs from the dining room had been brought into the living room and placed in regular rows facing the west wall. These chairs were already occupied by the house students. Of the thirty-six girls who lived at Wayland Hall, the Lookouts and Katherine were the last to enter. At the west end of the room were three chairs. Miss Remson occupied one. She was talking busily to a dark-haired, fine-featured woman who sat in the chair next to her own. The third chair was still vacant. Five of the six girls seated themselves on a large oak bench at the back of the room, which was still vacant on their arrival. Ronny walked serenely up the improvised side aisle to where Miss Remson and her guest were seated. Very demurely she slipped into the vacant chair.

A united gasp arose from four of the occupants of the oak bench as their eyes lighted upon Miss Remson’s guest. A great wave of unexpected joy swept over Marjorie. She realized how much the presence of that beloved guest meant to her. She felt Lucy’s hand slip into hers. The two girls clasped hands in an expression of silent thankfulness and rejoicing.

Conversation died out as Miss Remson rose to address the assemblage. Aside from Vera, Leila, Katherine and the Lookouts, no one present had an inkling of Miss Remson’s purpose in calling them together.

“I wish to introduce to you Miss Archer, principal of the Sanford High School for Girls, of Sanford, New York. She has come to Hamilton College to right a wrong that has been done a student here, a most estimable young woman who lives among you at Wayland Hall. Had Miss Archer been unable to leave her work to come here, I should have seen justice done. However, as the case in hand comes so entirely under her jurisdiction, I am very glad of her presence tonight in that respect as well as the pleasure to be derived from her society.”

Miss Remson resumed her chair and Miss Archer rose, a gracious, dignified figure in a dark brown broadcloth traveling gown. Speech for the time being was impossible. The students in the room, with the exception of the Sans, were applauding vigorously. The nature of Miss Archer’s errand alone had aroused their finer sentiments. As for the Sans, they were in a quandary. The words “Sanford High School” and “right a wrong” pointed to trouble for some of them, at least. Natalie Weyman half rose from her chair. A sharp tug at her gown from Leslie Cairns and she resumed her seat. Common sense had warned Leslie that it was too late to run. The Sans were fairly caught.

“Sit still,” she whispered. “Remson won’t stand for our leaving. We must brazen this out. Pass the word along.”

“I am going to tell the young women of Wayland Hall a little story,” Miss Archer began in her direct fashion, when quiet was once more restored. “This story is about two girls. One of these two girls was entering her junior year at Sanford High School. The other girl wished to enter the sophomore class. The time of this occurrence which I shall relate was on the first day of high school. The girl who wished to enter the sophomore class reported to my office in order to take the entrance examinations. I chanced to be without a secretary at the time and was not in my office when the prospective sophomore entered it. While she waited for me she amused herself by going over the private papers on my desk. Among them was a set of examination papers marked ‘Sophomore’ which she would be obliged to take. She was interested in these and did not scruple to go over them.

“While she was engaged in this dishonesty, another girl entered the office. She was the bearer of a note to me from her mother. Seeing the stranger at the desk she naturally surmised her to be my new secretary, my former secretary having left me the previous June when she was graduated from high school. The young woman with the note asked the other frankly if she were not the secretary. She did not answer the question with a direct ‘yes’; she merely smiled and made it appear that she was. She continued to stand at the desk as though she had permission to be there.

“Presently she engaged the junior, who was waiting for me, in conversation about an algebra problem on one of the papers. She pretended that she was interested in the problems as review work. This was nothing strange, as my secretary always takes charge of the special examination papers. The junior had long since finished algebra and was not thinking much about the other’s apparent interest in a certain problem in quadratic equations which she pointed out on one of the papers.

“To make a long story short the one girl tricked the junior into showing her how to solve the problem. The junior, believing the other to be simply amusing herself by solving a few of the printed problems during my absence, worked out the one for her which she could not solve. During this time several girls entered the office. In each case they were interviewed and sent about their business by my supposed secretary. Rather to the surprise of the junior the other girl finally picked up the papers containing the finished problem and walked out of the office with them. Still the junior did not suspect her of trickery. She continued to wait for me. I did not return to the office for some time after that and she left without seeing me.”

Miss Archer went on to tell of the trouble which had ensued as a result of the junior having learned that the girl she had talked with was not the secretary. Also of her own misjudgment of the innocent junior. She told of the anonymous report of the affair sent her in a letter which had been written by one of the students who had seen the two at work over the problem and misjudged the junior as being a willing party to the other’s dishonesty.

Her denunciation of Rowena Farnham, for at the last she named her and Marjorie as the principals in the affair, was sharp and merciless. Her openly expressed contempt for the malicious attempt on Rowena’s part to blacken Marjorie’s fair name at Hamilton cut deeply into the courage of the Sans. Under the weight of evidence presented they dared not say a word. Her final remark: “My deep regard for Miss Dean as a former pupil and personal friend has made it a pleasure for me to come to Hamilton to defend her integrity,” was received with acclamation on the part of Marjorie’s loyal supporters.

When Ronny could make herself heard she rose and said: “I wish it understood by all present that I am the person responsible for Miss Archer’s presence here tonight. No one except Miss Remson and Miss Warner knew that I had sent for her. I would like also to say that my name is Lynne, not Lind, and that I am not Swedish, but English. Any reports concerning me I should prefer to have authentic. That’s all.” Ronny left her station and sought the oak bench where Marjorie sat quietly crying, her head against Jerry’s plump shoulder.

Following Ronny’s example more than half of the assemblage left their seats and made for Marjorie. Under their warm expressions of sympathy and loyalty, her tears soon disappeared. The lesser portion of the students made their exit the moment they conveniently could, hoping not to attract too much attention. Going directly to their rooms, they came forth again in hats and coats, leaving the Hall by twos and threes. An indignation meeting at the Colonial was their objective. For once Leslie Cairns was out of favor all around for having accepted the word of her friend, Rowena Farnham, against Marjorie, without having been sure of her ground.

While the Sans were engaged in one of their futile altercations Miss Remson, assisted by the two maids, was engaged in passing around strawberry ice cream and thick-layered chocolate cake to Marjorie and her supporters.

“We have won our second victory for democracy!” exclaimed Leila triumphantly from her place on the oak bench beside Marjorie. She had made Jerry give it to her. Miss Archer sat at her beloved pupil’s other side.

“I can’t be sorry it happened now,” Marjorie said happily. “It brought me my Miss Archer. Besides it is a real victory. We have shown those trouble makers, thanks to Ronny, first of all, that we are not going to be talked about at their pleasure.”

“They certainly slid out of here in a hurry,” commented Jerry. “They didn’t dare stay.”

“They did not,” agreed Leila. “They will not be bothering us for some time to come. They will have to hunt well for trouble. Now, with spring here, they will be motoring and forgetting us for awhile. Do not believe they are done forever. Leslie Cairns will try again if she sees her chance. We may not see much of them the rest of this year, but look out for them as juniors. The poor, simple earth will not hold them.”

“Really, I don’t know where the year has gone,” sighed Muriel Harding. “We are almost into the spring term and it seems to me that I haven’t been here but a few weeks. We were going to try to find out a lot about the founder of this college, Brooke Hamilton. Have any of you ever looked up his history outside of what it says of him in the college bulletin?”

“I tried to find more about him at the library, but the librarian said there wasn’t a single thing about him there that was of any importance. He didn’t appear in books, I suppose, because he was a private gentleman. I would love to go to Hamilton Arms some time. His private library is there, they say, just as it was in his time. If we were allowed to look through it, we might find out a little about him from his collection of books. His tastes and so on, I mean.” Marjorie spoke with the eagerness she always betrayed when on the subject of Brooke Hamilton. Never in a student had the departed philanthropist possessed a more generous admirer.

“If that is your heart’s desire, I will be the one to tell you it is not easily obtained. A niece of his, a very old lady, lives there. She will see no one. She is not in sympathy with the college. They say she has no liking for girls,” was Leila’s dampening information.

“Then there is no use in sighing for the unattainable,” smiled Marjorie. “Oh, well, I can keep on admiring his traditions, anyway, and help, as much as I can, to keep them green at Hamilton.”

When the little feast of rejoicing was over and the Loyalites, as Leila named the participants, had sought their rooms, Marjorie’s earnest words, “and help, as much as I can, to keep them green at Hamilton,” rang in their ears. Each vowed in her heart to do likewise.

How Marjorie left her freshman estate behind, and traveled on into the broader realm of the sophomore, will be narrated in “Marjorie Dean, College Sophomore.”

THE END