A moment later she was moving out of the train with her chums, smiling over her recent flat sense of disappointment. A glance out of a window on the opposite side of the car had proved reassuring. On the platform toward which she and her friends were directing their steps were girls in abundance.

“Look at the mob!” Jerry made this low-tone exclamation over her shoulder as she went down the car steps.

Soon the Five Travelers had left the car behind them and become a part of the throng on the station platform. Unconsciously they drew together in a compact, little bunch, somewhat as a quintette of homeless kittens might have done, who had been thrown out on a very big, inhospitable world to wonder what was going to happen to them next.

There they continued to stand for at least three minutes, each busily forming her own opinions of this particular feature of college life. Two girls who had left the train just ahead of them had already been pounced upon by a group of their friends and whisked off the platform. At the right of them a tall, dignified girl in glasses was shaking hands warmly with three welcoming friends. She looked as though she might be a senior. It was not until long afterward that Marjorie learned that she was a prospective freshman who failed ignominiously in her entrance examinations and left Hamilton, disconsolate.

The longer they stood and watched what went on around them, the more it became enforced upon them that there was a welcome for everyone but themselves.

“I am afraid they didn’t get our telegram,” commented Jerry, with a degree of sarcasm that bespoke her contempt for everything she had ever heard or read of college hospitality and tradition.

“Our telegram? Why, did you send a——? Oh, I see.” Muriel Harding shrewdly surveyed the scene before her, a glint of belligerence in her eyes.

“Of course I didn’t send a telegram. Can’t you tell when I am sarcastic? I supposed I was extremely sarcastic just then. I’ll have to try again.” The fact of being ignored by the upper class students of Hamilton had not disturbed Jerry’s ever ready sense of humor.

“Come on, girls.” Ronny spoke almost authoritatively. “We know our destination is Wayland Hall and it is on the campus. We can find a taxicab easily enough. We don’t have to wait for a reception committee, apparently not on duty today.”

“Shades of the Students’ Aid where art thou?” declaimed Marjorie, the tiniest touch of satire in the remark.

“Humph! I must say that I am not so particular about that minus welcome. Fortunately we are neither children nor idiots. I think we can find our way without any help.”

With this sturdy assertion Jerry lifted her suitcase from the platform and gazed defiantly about her. The others followed her example, and the five girls headed for a short set of stone steps at the back of the platform which formed an exit from the station premises. In order to reach the steps they had to wind their way in and out of the groups of young women which filled the platform. Several pairs of bright eyes were turned on them for the conventional, well-bred second, yet none came forward to speak to them.

As Veronica had predicted, it was no trouble to find a taxicab. Two or three dark blue cabs, belonging to the railroad company, were drawn up in the open space behind the station. Selecting the first one they came to, Veronica gave the driver the address, and the Five Travelers stepped into the automobile.

As they drove out of the station yard they passed a large gray car driving in. It was filled to overflowing with girls, all of them in high spirits. Marjorie noted as the car glided by her that the girl at the wheel was particularly attractive. Even a passing glance revealed that fact. A little ache tugged at her heart. It seemed rather hard that they should have been so utterly ignored.

“Now that I’ve seen some of these dear little children of our Alma Mater, I’m better pleased with myself than ever. Let me tell you one thing and that isn’t two,” Jerry paused impressively, “they need reforming badly. But don’t you ask me to tackle the job. I feel in my aristocratic bones that I owe it to myself to be very exclusive this year; and I am going to be it.”

“I don’t care to know anyone except you girls.” Lucy Warner looked almost pleased at the prospect of forming no new acquaintances at college.

“I don’t like the idea of being slighted,” Muriel complained. “I can’t say that I expected to have a fuss made over me. Still, we Lookouts have been at the head of things so much in Sanford High that it hurts to be passed by entirely. Besides, I wish to like college. I would not be content to go on all year without meeting some pleasant girls with whom I could be friendly. You know what I mean.”

Muriel looked almost appealingly about her. The five girls had tucked themselves into the tonneau of the machine, three on the main seat and two occupying the small chair-like stools opposite. Her eyes rested last on Marjorie whose meditative expression promised support.

Thus far, none of the travelers had paid the slightest attention to the clean, well laid out town of Hamilton through which they were passing. They were too wholly concerned at the utter lack of courtesy which had been accorded them. It brushed Veronica least of all. Her experience of the previous year had made her case-hardened. While Lucy was not anxious to make new acquaintances, she did not like to see the others ignored. Jerry, Muriel and Marjorie had, however, been cut to the quick.

“I feel queer over it,” was Marjorie’s candid admission. “It is just as though some one had given poor old Hamilton College a hard slap. It is not according to the tradition of any really fine college to forego hospitality. Why, you will recall, Ronny, Miss Archer was telling us that one of the oldest traditions of Hamilton was ‘Remember the stranger within thy gates.’ I thought that so beautiful. Different girls I know, who have gone to college, have told me that there was always a committee of students to meet the principal trains and make things comfortable for entering freshmen.

“We didn’t go about matters scientifically,” Jerry asserted. “We should have seen to it that the railroad company posted a large bulletin in front of the station announcing us something like this: ‘Sanford High School takes pleasure in announcing the arrival at Hamilton, on the five-fifty train, of the following galaxy of shining stars: Veronica Browning Lynne, Millionairess; Lucy Eleanor Warner, Valedictorian, i. e., extra brilliant; Muriel Harding, Howling Beauty and Basketball Artist; Marjorie Dean, Marvelous Manager of Everyone; Jeremiah Macy, Politician and Fat Girl. A full turn out of all college societies and classes is requested in order to fitly welcome this noted quintette. Orchestra take notice. Brass Band must be present in dress uniform.’”

Jerry drew a long breath as she concluded, then giggled softly as the absurdity of her own conception struck her.

“Honestly, Jerry Macy, you are the limit. Do you or do you not care that nobody has cared enough for us to show us the ordinary college courtesies?” Muriel’s question was half laughing, half vexed.

“Oh, I am not made of wood,” Jerry retorted. “Still I am not so grieved that I won’t be able to eat my dinner, provided the doors of Wayland Hall aren’t slammed in our faces. By the way, what does this town look like? I have been so busy with our united sorrows that I forgot to inspect it.”

Jerry turned her attention to the broad, smooth street through which the taxicab was passing. They were traveling through the prettiest part of Hamilton, the handsome stone residences on each side of the street with the close-cropped stretches of lawn, denoting the presence of luxury. Against the vivid green of the grass, scarlet sage flaunted its gorgeous color in carefully laid out bed or border. Cannas, dahlias and caladiums lent tropical effect to middle-state topography. Here and there the early varieties of garden chrysanthemums were in bloom, their pink, white and bronze beauty adding to the glorious color schemes which autumn knows best how to paint. Nor did the little piles of fallen leaves that dotted the lawns, brown heaps against the green, detract from the picture.

Continuing for some distance along the street which was now claiming their attention, the car turned into another street, equally ornamental. Soon they noticed that the houses were growing farther apart and more after the fashion of country estates. There were immense sweeps of velvety lawn, shaded by trees large and small of numerous variety. The residences, too, were veritable castles. Situated far back from the thoroughfare, they were often just visible through their protecting leafy screen.

“We can’t be far from Hamilton.” It was Veronica who broke the brief silence that had fallen on them as their appreciative eyes took in the beauty spread lavishly along their route. “The Hamilton bulletin says the college is a little over two miles from the station. These beautiful country houses, that we have been passing, belong to what is called the Hamilton Estates, I imagine. The bulletin speaks of the Hamilton Estates in describing the college, you know.”

“Yes; it said that Brooke Hamilton, the founder of Hamilton College, once owned all the country around here. One of these estates is called Hamilton Arms,” supplemented Marjorie. “It said so little about this Brooke Hamilton. I would have liked to know more of his history. He must have been a true gentleman of the old school. It mentions that many of the finest traditions of Hamilton College were oft repeated sayings of his. So he must have been a noble man.”

“Well, I am only sorry that he wasn’t on hand to welcome us,” regretted Jerry, the irrepressible. “Now you needn’t be shocked at my levity. I meant seriously that he was really needed today.”

“Look!” The single word of exclamation from Lucy centered all eyes to where she was pointing.

Upon their view had burst the wide, gently undulating green slopes of Hamilton Campus. While the grounds surrounding the majority of institutions of learning are laid out with an eye to the decorative, Hamilton campus has a peculiar, living charm of its own that perhaps none other has ever possessed. It is not that its thick short grass grows any greener than that of other campuses. Still it is more pleasing to the eye. The noble growth of elm, beech and maple, shading the lawns at graceful distances apart carries a personality that one feels but can hardly express by description.

Ornamental shrubs there are in tasteful plenty, but not in profusion. It is as though nothing grows on that immense, rolling tract of land that is not necessary to the picture formed by natural beauty and intensified by intelligent landscape-gardening. Even the stately gray stone buildings, which stand out at intervals on the broad field of green, bear the same stamp of individuality.

“It is wonderful!” Lucy spoke in an awed voice. The majesty of the scene had gripped her hard.

“How beautiful!” The spell was on Ronny, too. She was gazing across the emerald stretches with half-closed, worshipping eyes. “My own dear West is wonderful, but there is something about this that touches one’s heart. I never feel quite that way when I look out at the mountains or the California valleys, dear as they are to me.”

“I love it all!” Marjorie’s wide brown eyes had grown larger with emotion. She was meeting for the first time one that would later be her steadfast friend, changing only from one beauty to another—Hamilton Campus.