Marjorie Dean, College Junior

“I have not,” shrieked Dulcie. “I don’t know what you are talking about. You’re crazy if you say I told all that stuff you mentioned. Why don’t you put the blame where it belongs? You told me yourself that Loretta and Margaret were both gossips. You told Bess Walbert a lot of things yourself. She told me so. You used to tell Lola Elster a lot, too. Nat Weyman isn’t above gossiping, either. She has said some hateful things about you, if you care to know it.”

Fully launched, Dulcie bade fair to stir up dissension in a breath. Worse, her lung power seemed to increase with every word.

“Pay no attention to her,” Leslie advised her chums in a cold, level voice. “She can tell more yarns to the second than anyone else I know.”

“You said you could manage her, Les. For goodness’ sake do so. I am afraid she’ll be heard down stairs.” Joan Myers sprang to her feet in exasperation.

“Leave that to me.” Leslie’s eyes snapped. She was fast losing the admirable poise she had held so well. The real Leslie Cairns was coming to the surface.

Three or four lithe steps and she was facing Dulcie. The latter still stood by her chair shrieking forth invective.

“Listen to me, you idiot,” she said with an intensity of wrath that approached a snarl. “Cut out that screaming —now. We are done with you. We know you for what you are. Not one of us will ever speak to you again after you leave this room. Get that straight. If you ever repeat another word on the campus of the Sans’ business you will be a sorry girl. Don’t you forget that. You carried the idea that, if trouble came from your talk, you could slide out of it and leave us to face it. You couldn’t have cleared yourself. What you are to do from now on is – ”

A sharp rapping at the door interrupted Leslie. Raising a warning finger to her lips, she crossed the room to answer the knock.

“Good evening, Miss Remson,” she coldly greeted. “Will you come in? Our club is holding a meeting in my room.” She made an indifferent gesture toward the assembled girls.

“Good evening, Miss Cairns. No; I do not wish to enter your room. I must insist, however, that you conduct your meeting quietly. The commotion going on in here can be heard downstairs.”

The very impersonality of the manager’s reproof brought a quick rush of blood to Leslie’s cheeks. It was as though Miss Remson considered Leslie and her companions so far beneath her it took conscientious effort on her part even to reprove them. It stung Leslie to a desire to clear herself of the opprobrium.

“I am sorry about the noise,” she apologized in annoyed embarrassment. “Miss Vale is responsible for it. I have been trying to quiet her. She is very angry with us for calling her to account for disloyalty. She has done so many despicable things we felt it necessary to call a meeting of the club to – ”

“Pardon me. I am not interested in anything save the fact that there must be no more screaming or loud altercation from this room tonight or at any other time. As it is your room, Miss Cairns, I shall hold you responsible for the good behavior of your guests.”

Again the aloofness of the rebuke cut Leslie through and through. She had never believed that she could be so utterly snubbed by “Trotty” Remson.

“Very well.” It was the only thing she could think of to say.

Miss Remson turned from the door and went on down the long hall. Leslie was seized with a savage inclination to bang the door. She refrained from indulging it. There had been enough noise already.

She returned to her companions to find Dulcie furious because she had been reported to Miss Remson as the author of the commotion.

“Talk about anyone being treacherous,” she stormed, but in a more subdued key. “You’re treacherous as a snake. You’d tell tales on – on your own father, if it would save you from disgrace.”

“That’s enough.” Leslie’s last atom of self-control vanished. “I am tired of your foolishness. Get out of my room, instantly. Don’t you ever dare even speak to me again. Let me hear one word you have said against any of us and I will have you expelled within twenty-four hours afterward. I can do it, too. If you go to headquarters with any tales against us, remember you are one and we are seventeen who will act as one in denying your fairy stories. You – ”

“Not fairy stories,” sneered Dulcie. “I’d be satisfied to tell the truth about you deceitful things. It would more than run you out of Hamilton.”

“You couldn’t tell the truth to save your life,” retorted Leslie with a caustic contempt which hit Dulcie harder than anything else Leslie had said to her.

“I – I – think – ” Dulcie struggled with her emotions, then suddenly burst into hysterical sobs. Her arm against her face to shut her distorted features from sight of her accusers, she stumbled to the door, groping for the knob with her free hand. An instant and she had gone, too thoroughly humiliated to slam the door after her. The sounds of her weeping could be faintly heard by the others until her own door closed behind her.

“Gone!” Joan Myers sighed exaggerated relief.

“Yes; and broken,” announced Leslie Cairns with cruel satisfaction.

“Oh, I don’t know,” differed Margaret Wayne. She had not forgotten Dulcie’s assertion as to what Leslie had said of her and Loretta. “Dulc had spunk enough to answer you back to the very last. I don’t see that – ”

“No, you don’t see. Well, I do. I say that Dulcie Vale left here just now utterly crushed,” argued Leslie with stress. “You are peeved, Margaret, because of what she claimed I said of you and Retta. She lied.”

“Certainly, Dulcie lied,” supported Natalie. “Do you believe that I, Leslie’s best friend, would say hateful things about her? Yet Dulc said I had. Didn’t Les warn you not to pay any attention to what she said? We knew she would try to make trouble among the Sans the minute we called her down.”

“We did, indeed.” Leslie made a movement of her head that betokened Dulcie’s utter hopelessness.

“I didn’t say I believed what Dulcie said,” half-apologized Margaret. In her heart she did not trust Leslie, however. It was like her to make just such remarks about any of the Sans if in bad humor.

“Never mind. It isn’t worrying me,” was the purposely careless response. “To go back to what you said about Dulc not being broken. I have known her longer than you, Margaret. She can keep up a row about so long, then she crumples. After that there isn’t a spark of fight left in her. She always ends by a fit of crying, next door to hysterics. Isn’t that true of her, Nat?”

Natalie nodded. “Yes; Dulcie will mind her own affairs now and keep her mouth closed for a long time to come.”

“She’s afraid of me,” Leslie continued, her intonation harsh. “She doesn’t know just the extent of my influence here.”

“Could you truly have her expelled within twenty-four hours?” queried Harriet Stephens somewhat incredulously.

“You heard me say so. It would take a very slight effort to do that. I could wire my father, then – ” Leslie paused, looking mysterious. “Sorry, girls, but I can’t tell you any more than that. I’ll simply say that my wonderful father’s influence can remove mountains, if necessary. That’s why I was so furious with that little sneak for daring even to mention his name.”

“Could your father’s influence save you from being expelled if different things you have done here were brought up against you?” demanded Adelaide Forman.

Leslie’s eyes narrowed at the question. It was a little too searching for comfort. In reality her father’s influence at Hamilton was a minus quantity. She had been boasting with a view toward increasing her own importance.

“It would depend entirely on what I had done,” she answered after a moment’s thought. “You must understand that my father would be wild if he knew I had gone out hazing when it is strictly against rules. He wouldn’t do a thing to help me if I had trouble with Matthews over that. If I wrote him that Dulcie, for instance, was trying, by lies, to have me or my friends expelled from Hamilton, he would fight for me in a minute.”

The Sans stayed for some time in Leslie’s room planning how they would meet further remarks leveled at them on the campus as a result of Dulcie’s defection. Leslie brought forth a fresh five-pound box of chocolates and another of imported sweet crackers. The party feasted and enjoyed themselves regardless of the fact that three doors from them a former comrade writhed and wept in an agony of angry shame. While in a measure their course might be justified, there was not one among them who had not, to a certain extent, and at some time or other, betrayed friendship.

This was also Dulcie’s most bitter grievance against those who had been her chums. She knew now that she had talked too much. So had the others. Still, she was sorry for herself. She had been deceived in Bess Walbert. Bess was the one who had circulated most of the Sans’ private affairs. She could not recall just how much she had told Bess; very likely no more than had Leslie. If they had given her time she would have been able to defend herself. With such reflections she strove to palliate her own offenses.

“Do you imagine Dulc will try to get back at us?” was Natalie’s first remark to Leslie as the door closed on the departing Sans. “She carried on about as I thought she might. We came off easily with Remson, didn’t we?”

“Dulcie is done, I tell you,” reasserted Leslie with an impatient scowl. “Remson! Humph! My worst enemy couldn’t have delivered a more telling snub. She may suspect us of making trouble between her and Matthews. I’ll say, I wish this year was done and Commencement here. If we slide through and capture those precious diplomas without the sword falling it will be a miracle.”

CHAPTER XX – A BITTER PILL

Dulcie’s tumultuous resentment of accusation had been heard throughout the Hall. More than one door opened along the second, third and fourth story halls as the shrill-sounding voice continued.

Among others, Jerry had gone to the door to ascertain what was happening in the house of such an unusual nature. Two or three moments of intent listening and she had returned to her chair before the center table.

“Why waste my good time listening to the far-off scrapping of the Sans?” she had lightly questioned. “There is some kind of row going on in Miss Cairns’ room. That’s the way it sounds to me. I can’t say who is giving the vocal performance. I don’t know the dear creatures well enough to tag that sweet voice. I could hear other doors besides ours open. We are not alone in our curiosity.”

“Your curiosity,” Marjorie had corrected. “I wasn’t enough interested to go to the door.” Marjorie had laughed teasingly.

“Stand corrected. My curiosity,” Jerry had obligingly answered. With that the subject had dropped as abruptly as the noise had begun.

The Sans were fortunate, in that the students residing at Wayland Hall, with the exception of themselves, were too fruitfully engaged in the minding of their own affairs to give more than a passing attention to the disturbance created by Dulcie Vale. Within the next two or three days they were agreeably surprised to find that no word of it had uttered on the campus.

“Has anyone said anything to you of Dulcie’s roars, howls and shrieks?” Leslie asked Natalie, half humorously. It was the fourth evening after the meeting in her room and the two were lounging in Natalie’s room doing a little studying and a good deal of talking.

“No. You can see for yourself what the girls in this house are; a mind-your-own-business crowd.” Natalie’s reply contained a certain amount of admiration. “If the story of it spreads over the campus, it will not be their fault. Sometimes I am sorry, Les, we didn’t go in for democracy from the first. We are cut out of a lot of good times by being so exclusive. Take this show that Miss Page and Miss Dean are going to give in the gym tomorrow night. Not one of the Sans was asked to be in it.”