The result of Lucy’s strong plea for an official meeting of the Five Travelers was a gathering, in hers and Ronny’s room, on the next evening. As all had agreed to prepare for tomorrow’s recitations first, it was nine o’clock when they assembled to hear what Lucy had to say.

What Marjorie said, however, the next moment after Ronny had turned the key in the door was: “Girls, I’d like to have Ronny take charge of this meeting. While there are only a handful of us, someone ought to be at the head.”

Veronica demurred vigorously. She was overruled and found herself mistress of ceremonies whether she would or no.

“Very well,” she at last accepted, “I will do the best I can to be an illustrious head to this noble organization. To begin with, I will say that I admire Lucy’s policy. What we report here weekly is official. If we merely talked it over in our rooms it would sometimes seem like gossiping, even though we did not intend it to be such. I don’t know that I have anything special to tell. I will say this: Much as I like Wayland Hall and Miss Remson, I do not like the atmosphere of it. It is a house quietly divided against itself. There is no unity here of the better element of girls. There ought to be. I am ready to say how such unity might be brought about. I am not sure that I wish to make it my business. I am not sure that it would come under the head of being a Lookout. As the Five Travelers we have made no pledges, thus far,” she concluded with her strange, flickering smile.

“While I was anxious to carry out the plan we made on the train about the Five Travelers, what I have to tell you really comes under the head of being a Lookout.” Lucy paused and glanced around the uneven semi-circle into which the girls had drawn their chairs. “Someone I know is in great need of help, or rather protection, and that is Miss Langly.”

“In need of protection,” repeated Muriel Harding in a surprised tone. “What awful calamity hangs over that quiet little mouse’s head?” The other three girls also looked in mild amazement. Katherine Langly, a quiet little sophomore, was the one acquaintance Lucy had made by herself.

“It is those hateful sophomores from whom she needs protection,” explained Lucy, smiling faintly at Muriel’s question. “They torment her in all sorts of sly ways. I mean the ones Jerry named ‘our crowd.’ They wish her to leave the Hall as a friend of theirs, a freshman, is trying to get in here. You see she won a Hamilton scholarship. I mean one offered by Hamilton College. She tried special examinations made up by the Hamilton faculty of years ago. Her papers were considered so nearly perfect that she was awarded the special scholarship which no one had won for twenty years. It covers every expense. Mr. Brooke Hamilton founded it and laid aside a sum of money for it. It is still in bank. So few have won this scholarship, the money has accumulated until it is now a very large sum.”

“How interesting!” the four listeners exclaimed in the same breath.

“Truly, I shall never rest until I have dug up a lot of Mr. Brooke Hamilton’s history,” asserted Marjorie. “He was almost as interesting as Benjamin Franklin, who was the most interesting person I ever heard of. Pardon me, Lucy. I am the one who is off the subject tonight.”

“What does ‘our crowd’ do in the way of ragging Miss Langly?” demanded Jerry, bristling into sudden belligerence. “They make me weary! The idea of insulting a girl who has more mind in a minute than the whole bunch will have in a century.”

“They never speak to her, although this is her second year at the Hall. You see, the scholarship mentions a certain room in each of four campus houses which the winner may have the use of. She cannot share it with anyone. The terms state that a young woman brilliant enough to win the scholarship has the right to exclusive privacy.”

“Wasn’t that dear in Brooke Hamilton?” Ronny cried out involuntarily. “I adore the memory of that fine gentleman. I shall certainly join you in the history-digging job, Marjorie.”

“Now let Brooke Hamilton rest,” ordered Jerry. “I am the only one of you who really has a mind to the subject.”

“Give me credit,” emphasized Muriel. “I haven’t said a word. I’ve listened hard. What else do these millionaires do, Lucy?” Muriel wagged her head proudly at Jerry to show the latter how closely she had been paying attention.

“Oh, they make remarks about her clothes and snub her dreadfully at table. She sits at the same table as that Miss Cairns and Miss Vale. They take turns staring steadily at her, sometimes, until they make her so nervous she can scarcely eat. She said it wasn’t so bad last year for she sat at a table with Miss Harper and Miss Sherman. Besides, these girls weren’t trying to get her room. It has been worse this year. One day last week Miss Myers, she is a ringleader among them, stopped her in the hall and asked her if she would not be willing to trade rooms with Miss Elster, the freshman they are working to get into the Hall. Miss Langly explained that, on account of her scholarship, she had no choice in the matter. She was angry, and she also said that if she were free to make the exchange she would not do it. Then she walked away. That evening Miss Myers reported her to Miss Remson for burning her lights late, walking noisily about her room and slamming her door after the ten-thirty bell had rung.”

“Why, that is simply outrageous!” cried Marjorie, her brown eyes sparkling with indignation. “Surely, Miss Remson did not credit it.”

“No; she told Miss Langly to pay no attention to it. She called her privately into her office and told her about the report soon after it had been made. She said that she had simply informed Miss Myers that the person who slammed her door so frequently and late was Miss Weyman, not Miss Langly. That if Miss Langly burned her lights after the bell had rung it was because she had had permission to do so. That if a number of the other young women at the Hall would pattern after Miss Langly, it would save her an infinite amount of trouble.”

“Good for Busy Buzzy,” cheered Jerry, standing up and waving her arms.

“Less noise or some one will report us,” warned Ronny laughingly. “These millionairesses will be out for our scalps when they know us a little better. I think the whole thing is shameful. It is just the way the girls at Miss Trevelyn’s used to be. Only there were no poor girls there. They used to act spitefully to one another. Of course Miss Langly knows that you have told us this, Lucy?”

“Yes; I asked her if she cared if you girls knew it. I said I was sure you would fight for her. She said she did not wish you to do so, but she did not care if I told you. She supposed almost every one at the Hall knew it.

“There isn’t much we can do at first,” said Marjorie thoughtfully. Every pair of eyes were turned on her sweet face as she began speaking. “Our best plan is the old way we have always done; take her under our wing. There is room at our table for another plate. I will ask Miss Remson to make that change. That will help a good deal. The rest of the time she can keep out of those girls’ way.”

“We ought to do a little press-agenting. I mean, tell everybody how brilliant Miss Langly is and about the scholarship,” was Muriel’s inspiration. “We’ll start the Silverton Hall crowd to eulogizing her. If these bullies find most of the college admires her, they will be a little more careful. They aren’t crazy to take a back seat. They love to be popular and have the mob follow them about.”

“Lucy, you must tell Miss Langly to be sure and attend the reception. She owes it to herself to be there.” This from Ronny, in decided tones.

“She said she would like to invite me,” Lucy colored with shy embarrassment, “but she was afraid we would not be well-treated. So many of those girls are sophomores. She thinks they will run the reception.”

“You tell her to go ahead and invite you,” commanded Jerry. “We’ll be there to stand behind you. We may not have a special escort. If not, we can go in a bunch. Has she a family, or is she an orphan, or what about her?”

“She’s an orphan. She worked her way through high school. She lived with an old lady and worked for her board. She has had a very sad life.”

“I am proud to know her,” Ronny said simply. “If I had known her long ago I would have helped her.”

“We will make her our close friend and see what happens,” planned Marjorie. “If the Sans Soucians choose to become offended with us on that account, we shall understand better how to deal with them. It may be as well to let them know our principles. They will then set us down as prigs and leave us alone.”

This sentiment having been approved, Ronny inquired if there was anything else to be reported by anyone present. Nothing of an adverse nature happened to the Lookouts since the evening of their arrival, neither had anything especially pleasant occurred which they had not shared. The official confidence session was therefore closed until the next week, and the girls fell to discussing the coming dance and what they intended to wear. None of them except Lucy were likely to have a special escort, was the modest opinion.

Two days after their private conclave, the date of the dance was announced on all the bulletin boards. All freshmen were earnestly urged to be present. Followed the happiness of special invitation for all of the Lookouts. Helen Trent invited Jerry. Leila Harper invited Marjorie, greatly to the latter’s amazement. Vera Mason requested the pleasure of becoming Ronny’s escort. As for Muriel, she held her breath when stolid Miss Barlow made offer to become her escort on the eventful night. Muriel accepted ceremoniously and escaped from the room immediately after being invited for fear of disgracing herself by laughing. Later, Nella Sherman invited her, but Muriel had to decline, with some regret, in favor of her odd room-mate.

The dance was to take place in the gymnasium on Thursday evening one week after the first announcement had been made. For three afternoons and evenings before the festivity, the majority of the sophomores were to be found in the gymnasium, following classes, industriously engaged in beautifying the spacious room for the affair. It may be said that the Sans Soucians were strictly on the scene. In fact, they endeavored to take charge. As they contributed a wealth of decorative material in the way of small velvet rugs, expensive satin and velvet cushions and velour draperies, they appeared to consider themselves of vital importance to the affair.

The laborious part of the decorating, however, they took good care to portion out to the sophomores outside their own intimate circle. Joan Myers, as president of the sophomore class, had called a special meeting and appointed a special committee on decorations for the dance. This committee comprised Leila Harper, Helen Trent, Nella Sherman, Vera Mason, Hortense Barlow, Martha Merrick and Selma Sanbourne. The Sans Soucians were generous in the extreme in contributing luxurious effects, but they were niggardly in offering to help with the hard work attending the disposal of them. They lounged about the gymnasium and criticized freely, but they did very little actual labor.

The odd part was to see the stolidity of the hard-working committee, as assisted by the willing element among the sophomores, they toiled on, paying scarcely more attention to their indolent classmates than if they had been a few ubiquitous flies. On the first afternoon of the three preceding the hop, the committee hired a light wagon and went to the Hamilton Forest, a piece of woods situated about two miles south of the college. They returned at dusk laden with the fragrant spoils of the woods. On the second afternoon and evening the work of transforming the gymnasium into an autumn bower was skilfully performed. A creditable number of juniors and seniors did diligent service on this hard detail. On the third afternoon they arranged the cushions, draperies, chairs and like effects. Fortunately for them the Sans were absent. They were bending their valuable energies toward beautifying themselves for the evening.

The Sans Soucians numbered eighteen sophomores, but their sympathizers numbered as many more. In a class of ninety-two, at least twenty took small interest in class matters. This left a trifle less than half of the class to uphold democracy. As freshmen, the nobler element of girls had made some effort to stem the rising tide of snobbishness in their class. Utterly disgusted, they had at length, quietly withdrawn from association with an unworthy enemy. Now at the beginning of their sophomore year, indications marked no change for the better.

“Well, sophies, the job is done, and be-utifully done!” sang out Leila Harper. Unfastening the voluminous blue bungalow apron she had worn while at work, she whipped it off and stood surveying her scratched and dusty hands.

“The whole thing is a positive dream!” admired Vera Mason, clasping her small hands. “I can’t help saying the gym looks much finer than last year.”

“You may say it. Don’t let the junies hear you.” Leila’s voice carried the peculiar inflection that marks the Celt the world over. “It remains to be seen who will claim the credit,” she added with a touch of satire. “Never mind, wait until the evening is over. There will be a grand surprise for some folks.” She laughed softly, in anticipatory enjoyment of the surprise she was predicting. “I must hurry along. Remember, I am to escort Beauty to the hop.”

“Do try to be on time, Leila,” counseled Selma Sanbourne. “You’re always late, you know.”

“That I am, Swede,” retorted Leila, in good-humored agreement.

While Vera Mason rejoiced in the nickname “Midget,” Selma, being a Scandinavian, had received that of “Swede.” She occasionally retaliated by calling Leila “Ireland,” the latter having been the one to apply the two aforesaid nicknames to her chums.

“Don’t be disappointed if I’m not the first one here,” warned Leila. Rolling up the apron and tucking it under one arm, she prepared to depart.

“That means Leila is going to walk in at the last minute with our rosebud girl on her arm,” Martha Merrick declared. “Honestly, mates, it’s going to be so funny, if all works out as it should. It will be the first definite blow we have attempted to strike. After the way Natalie Weyman behaved on the day she volunteered to meet that Sanford crowd, she needs a lesson.”

“What possessed her, do you suppose?” Nella Sherman asked. “As nearly as I can remember, she insisted upon going to the train to meet them. Then she missed them, although she had plenty of time to reach the station before their train arrived. Afterward, she went to one of their rooms, I don’t know which, to apologize for her non-appearance. Result, they had their dinner at Baretti’s.”

“What do you mean, Nella?” Martha Merrick looked nonplussed. “I don’t see the connection between your last two remarks.”

“I’ll enlighten you. You are the one who told me that our five Sanford freshmen asked you to direct them to Baretti’s that night. It was after six o’clock when they arrived at the Hall. Naturally it took them time to scrub and generally freshen after an all day’s ride on the train. What did Natalie Weyman do but decide to make them an apology call precisely at the time when they should have gone down to dinner. Miss Cairns and Dulcie Vale were with her. They stayed until after the dining room had closed. We didn’t find this out, all in a minute, Martha. It took Leila, Midget, Selma and I to piece it together. You helped by remarking to us about you and Rosalind meeting them.”

“Yes, and since then Natalie Weyman hardly speaks to those girls,” added Selma.

“There is only one explanation for such contemptible conduct,” Martha said scornfully, “and you know it as well as I. This is the first I have heard of Natalie’s call. Last year she was quite friendly with me until I said to her that I thought it was ill-bred to base social values on money. She cut me after that. I was not sorry.”

“She is very malicious and if she had known those five girls beforehand I would say that she had an object in playing dog in the manger about meeting them and keeping them from their dinner afterward,” Leila Harper said. “As it happens, they knew no one here. They are thoroughbred to the bone. Not one word have they ever said to anyone of that night.”

“It was a case of selfishness and lack of consideration, I imagine,” surmised Vera Mason. “I mean, on Miss Weyman’s part.”

“Whatever prompted such inconsideration, I am sick of it,” was Leila’s vehement utterance. “Why should the fine traditions of this college be trodden under by such vandals? That’s precisely what they are. We should have gone to the train to meet those girls. When it was distinctly given out that Natalie Weyman intended to go, what was our conclusion? That they belonged to her circle. I made acquaintance very warily with them, on that account. They dress as well as any of the Sans ever dreamed of dressing. Miss Warner dresses more plainly, but her gowns are pleasing. They may be the daughters of millionaires, for all we know, but they are not snobs. Have you noticed the way they have taken up nice little Miss Langly? She has actually been abused by the Sans. Why? They were determined to make her give up her room to that obnoxious little freshie, Miss Elster. I despise the ultra-sophisticated type of girl she is. She boasts that she rides to hounds, enters dachshunds at bench shows, plays billiards and so on. She swaggers about like a detestable young man instead of a young girl.”

“Really, Leila, you are certainly a successful information gleaner,” Nella regarded her room-mate with an amused smile. “You know how to keep it to yourself, too. I hadn’t heard that Miss Langly had been abused by the Sans, or, that a freshman who rode to hounds was conspiring with the Sans to snatch her room.”

“You’ve heard now,” returned Leila, the twinkle in her eye evident. “After tonight, oh, how many things we shall be hearing! After the ball is over we shall be at one, I hope, with the Sanford five. If so, then the crowd of us ought to be able to work together for a more congenial condition of affairs at the Hall. The Sans are trying hard to run it and overrun us. They make it hard for Miss Remson, and it is a shame. If enough of us stand together for our rights, they will have to respect them. They won’t like us, but, then, do we admire them?”

“If things turn out tonight as we have planned, the Sans will be raving. Do you think it is perfectly fair to Miss Dean, Leila?” Vera’s tones carried a slight anxiety.

“Yes, I do, Midget,” came the instant reply. “She won’t like it, perhaps. Still it can’t do anything more than make her unpopular with the Sans. She is that, already, as I happen to know. If she is the girl I think her, she will simply pay no attention to them. Set your mind easy. We are doing her a service.”