Marjorie Dean, College Junior

“Hm-m!” Leslie looked interested. “I shall find out tomorrow what Joan has against her. If Dulcie hasn’t gabbed anything worse to Bess, and I presume a few others, than the news that I received a summons from his high and cranky mightiness, I will let her off with my candid opinion of her. If she has been a busy little news distributor of secret matters, she will rue it. I’ll have no traitors among the Sans.”

CHAPTER XIII – WELL MATCHED

Leslie’s first crafty move toward determining Dulcie Vale’s treachery was in the direction of Elizabeth Walbert. The latter had promised to return the next week the twenty-five dollars Leslie had expended in her behalf. Leslie planned to wait until she did so before making an attempt to discover how many of the Sans’ secrets Elizabeth knew. She was certain that Elizabeth would return the loan promptly, as she received a large allowance from home and as much more as she chose to demand.

To seek the self-satisfied sophomore’s society was not what Leslie proposed to do. She intended matters should be the other way around. She could then take Elizabeth completely off her guard and find out more easily what Dulcie had imparted to her.

Elizabeth also had views of her own regarding Leslie. The latter had not been nearly so friendly with her since college had opened as she had been during the previous year. Leslie had renewed her old comradeship with Natalie Weyman, whom Elizabeth detested and stood a little in fear of. Natalie had never been friendly with her. She had always held herself aloof. Whenever they chanced to meet she treated Elizabeth as a mere acquaintance. It was galling to the ambitious, self-seeking sophomore, but she loftily ignored Natalie’s frigidity. She had complained of it once to Leslie and been soundly snubbed for her pains. “You needn’t expect much of Nat. She doesn’t like you. That’s why she freezes you out. It won’t do you any good to tell me about it, for Nat is my particular pal.” This had been Leslie’s unsympathetic reception of the complaint.

In her heart Elizabeth did not like Leslie. She resented Leslie’s domineering ways. This did not deter her from fawning upon the despotic senior. She was depending on Leslie to help her regain a certain popularity which had been hers as a freshman. She had cherished a vain hope that she might be elected to the sophomore presidency. To her chagrin she had not even been nominated. Determined to shine on the campus, her thoughts were now turning toward basket ball. She was now anxious to enlist Leslie’s services in helping her devise a means of making the sophomore team. As a senior Leslie could easily influence the sports committee to favor her. Mae Lowry and Sarah Pierce, both Sans, were on the committee.

It had been rumored that Professor Leonard and the sports committee had disagreed; that the instructor had coolly advised the committee to do as it pleased and dropped all interest in sports for that year. With him out of the reckoning, nothing stood in her way provided Leslie chose to favor her.

Her greatest ambition, however, was to belong to the Sans. She was always privately wishing that one member of the club would drop out. Leslie had once more told her that the club limit was eighteen members. If anyone left the club an outside eligible would be chosen to replace the retiring member so as to keep the number of girls at eighteen. She had also tried on the previous June to arrange for a room at Wayland Hall for the ensuing college year. She had been unsuccessful in the attempt.

After leaving Leslie on the occasion of her mishap on Hamilton Highway, she had realized her folly in showing spleen against her companion. She resolved to offset it as speedily as possible. She wrote Leslie a note which remained unanswered. She then telephoned the Hall, but Leslie was out. Her allowance check having arrived, she had an excuse to go to see Leslie. Her afternoon classes over, she set out for Wayland Hall one rainy afternoon, hoping the inclement weather had kept Leslie indoors.

Her baby-blue eyes gleamed triumph at the cheering news that Miss Cairns was in. As she ascended the stairs to Leslie’s room, which was the largest and most expensive in the house, her curious glances roved everywhere. She wished she could see into the room of every student. Her lips fell into an envious pout as she thought of her own failure to get into the Hall. She would try again in June, on that she was determined.

Coming to the door of Leslie’s room, she uttered a muffled exclamation of impatience. A large “Busy” sign stared her in the face. She did not turn and go away. Instead her surveying eyes took in the long hall from end to end. Next, she drew close to the door and listened. She could hear no voices from within. Leslie was evidently alone and studying.

With a defiant lifting of her chin Elizabeth rapped on the panel twice and loudly. She listened again and was repaid by the sound of a chair being hastily moved, then approaching footsteps. The door opened with a jerk. Leslie stared at her visitor with no pleasantness.

“I came to return that twenty-five dollars.” Elizabeth did not give Leslie a chance to speak first. “I saw the sign on your door. I thought I would knock, anyway. I’ve been trying to see you for a week to give it to you. Why didn’t you answer my note, or didn’t you receive it?”

Leslie continued to stare. She was taken aback for an instant by the cool impudence of the other girl. This was in reality the only thing about Elizabeth that Leslie liked. She found the sophomore’s bold assurance amusing.

“Come in,” she drawled, assuming her most indifferent pose. “I intended asking you if you could read. I’ll forgive you. I told you there was no hurry about that money.”

“What’s money to me? Not that much!” Elizabeth snapped her fingers. “I can have all the money I want to spend here. I simply happened to be without it the other day. I won’t stay. I see you are really busy writing letters. It goes to show you can write. I thought perhaps you had forgotten how.”

Having delivered this thrust she busied herself with her handbag. “Here you are; much obliged.” She tendered the money to Leslie. “I must go.” She turned as though to depart.

“Oh, sit down!” Leslie tossed the little wad of bills on the table. “I can finish this letter later. I have to keep that sign on the door when I want to be alone. I’d be mobbed if I did not.”

At heart Leslie was distinctly glad to see her caller. She had her part to play on the stage of deceit, however.

“I suppose the Sans are running in and out of your room a good deal,” Elizabeth returned enviously. “I wish I could live here. It makes me so cross when I think of that Miss Dean and those girls living here and I can’t get in. There will be a lot of girls graduated from here in June. I think I can make it next fall. What’s the use, though. You’ll be gone. It is on your account I’d like to be here. I think more of you, Leslie, than of all the rest of the girls put together.” Elizabeth simulated wistful regret. She had tried out that particular expression before the mirror until she had perfected it. It was useful on so many occasions.

“Do you truly think as much of me as you say, Bess, or are you simply talking to hear yourself talk?” Leslie carried out admirably a pretense of sudden earnestness.

“Why, of course, I care a lot about you, Leslie.” Elizabeth adopted a slightly grieved tone. “Think of how much you have done for me.”

“Oh, that’s all right.” Leslie dismissed the reminder with a wave of the hand. “I have a reason for asking you that question. I have one or two other questions to ask you, too. If you are my friend, and wish to continue to be my friend, you will answer them.”

“I certainly will, if I can,” was the glib promise.

“You can,” Leslie curtly assured. “First, who told you about my having received a summons to Matthews’ office on account of that accident to Langly last fall?”

“How do you know – ” began the sophomore, then bit her lip.

“I know. There isn’t much goes on on the campus that I don’t know.” This with intent to intimidate. “I know who told you, for that matter.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell. Still, if you say you know who it was, I believe you do.” Elizabeth hastily conceded, remembering her own interests. “You won’t let on that I told you?”

Leslie shook her head. “Trust me to be discreet,” she said.

“It was Dulcie Vale,” came the treacherous answer.

“I knew it.” Leslie brought one hand sharply down against the other. “What else has Dulcie told you?”

“About what?” counter-questioned the sophomore.

“That’s what I am asking you.” Leslie leaned forward in her chair, steady eyes on her vis-a-vis.

Elizabeth experienced inward trepidation. Dulcie had told her a great many things which she had promptly repeated to friends of hers under promise of secrecy. Suppose Leslie had traced some bit of gossip to her. She had heard that Leslie could pretend affability when she was the angriest. She might be only using Dulcie as a blind in order to extract a confession from her.

“I don’t quite understand you, Leslie,” she asserted, knitting her light brows. “Dulcie has talked to me a little about the Sans. I never mentioned a word she said to anyone else.”

“That’s not the point. I am not accusing you of talking too much. You made a remark the other day which I took as an assumption that you had been told about the summons. I knew Dulcie had told you. Dulcie has said things to others, too.”

“Oh, I know that.” Confidence returning, Elizabeth was quick to place the blame on the absent Dulcie.

“Yes; and so do I. It is very necessary that I should get to the bottom of her talk. Some say one thing about her, some another. I thought I could rely on you for the facts.”

“I don’t care to have any trouble with Dulcie over this,” deprecated Elizabeth.

“You won’t. Your name won’t be mentioned in it. All I need is the facts. You will be doing me a great favor. If there is anything I can do for you in return, let me know.” Leslie had donned her cloak of pseudo-sincerity.

“Oh, no; there is nothing.” Elizabeth slowly shook her head. “I – well, I wouldn’t want you to think I cared for a return.” Her manner plainly indicated that there was something Leslie might do for her if she chose.

“What is it you want?” Leslie exhibited marked impatience. “Favor for favor you know,” she added boldly. “I never mince matters.”

“I am crazy to play on the soph basket-ball team. Do you think you can fix it for me?”

“Surest thing ever. Leonard is peeved and has tossed up sports. Two of the Sans are on committee. Is that all you need?”

“Yes.” The wide babyish eyes registered a flash of gratification. “You are so kind, Leslie. Thank you a thousand times. I know you won’t fail me.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll fix it for you tomorrow. One bit of advice. Don’t play unless you are an expert.”

“I am. When I was at prep school – ”

“Never mind about that now. You go ahead and tell me what I asked you. It is almost six and Nat will be here soon.”

“Oh, will she?” The sophomore cast an apprehensive glance toward the door. “Is she a very good friend of Dulcie’s?”

“She’s a better friend of mine,” was the bored reply. Leslie was growing tired of being kept from what she burned to know. “Please don’t waste any more time, Bess. We can’t talk after Nat comes in. I don’t believe I’ll be able to see you again before Saturday. I’m awfully busy. I’ll lunch you at the Lotus then. We’ll use my roadster for the trip to town. What?”