For two days, in a second floor class room at Hamilton Hall, a real tribunal, consisting of Doctor Matthews and the college Board, convened. Very patiently the body of dignified men listened to what the offenders against Hamilton College had to say by way of confession and appeal for clemency. To her great disgust, Marjorie was summoned before the Board on the morning of the second day. Questioned, she admitted to having been hazed. More than that she refused to state.

“I claim the right to keep my own counsel,” she had returned, when pressed to relate the details of the incident. “I was not injured. I did not even contract a slight cold. I did not see the faces of those who hazed me. I know only two of the Sans Soucians personally, and these two slightly. My evidence would, therefore, be too purely circumstantial. I do not wish to give it. I beg to be excused.”

Not satisfied, two members of the Board had requested that she state the time and manner of her return to her house. Her quick assurance, “My friends found out where I was and came for me. We were all in the gymnasium at half-past nine, in time for the unmasking,” was accepted, not without smiles, by her inquisitors. She was allowed to go. She took with her a memory of two rows of white, despairing girl faces. It hurt her not a little. She could not rejoice in the Sans’ downfall, though she knew it to be merited.

At the end of the inquiry the verdict was unanimous for expellment, to go into effect at once. The culprits were given one week to pack and arrange with their families for their return home.

Leslie Cairns had received the major share of blame. Throughout the inquiry she had worn an exasperating air of indifference, which she had doggedly fought to maintain. Not a muscle of her rugged face had moved during the reading of the long letter written by Dulcie Vale to the president. She had laconically admitted the truth of it, coolly correcting one or two erroneous statements Dulcie had made. Afterward, in her room, she had broken down and sobbed bitterly. This no one but herself knew.

The disgraced seventeen left Hamilton for New York on the seventh morning after sentence had been pronounced upon them. They departed early in the morning before the majority of the Wayland Hall girls were up and stirring. Marjorie was glad not to witness their departure. She had not approved of them. Still they were young girls like herself. She experienced a certain pity for their weakness of character. Jerry, however, was openly delighted to be rid of her pet abomination.

With the approach of May Day the Nine Travelers had something pleasant to look forward to. Miss Susanna had sent them invitations to dinner on May Day evening. Very gleefully they planned to deluge the mistress of Hamilton Arms with May baskets. These they intended to leave in one of the two automobiles which they would use. After dinner, Ronny had volunteered to slip away from the party, secure the baskets and place them before the front door. She would lift the knocker, then scurry inside, leaving Jonas, who was to be in the secret, to call Miss Susanna to the door.

When, as Miss Hamilton’s guests on May Day evening, they were ushered into the beautiful, mahogany-panelled dining room at Hamilton Arms, a surprise awaited them. The long room, an apartment of state in Brooke Hamilton’s day, was a veritable bower of violets. Bouquets of them, surrounded by their own decorative green leaves were in evidence everywhere in the room. They were the double English variety, and their fragrance was as a sweet breath of spring. A scented purple mound of them occupied the center of the dining table. It was topped by a familiar object; a willow, ribbon-trimmed basket. As on the previous May Day evening it was full of violets. Narrow violet satin ribbon depended from the center of the basket to each place, at which set a small replica of the basket Marjorie had left before Miss Susanna’s door, just one year ago that evening.

“I knew Miss Susanna would guess who went Maying a year ago this evening!” Jerry exclaimed. “After you had known Marvelous Marjorie a little while the guessing came easy, didn’t it?” She turned impulsively to Miss Hamilton.

“Yes; you are quite correct, Jerry,” the old lady made quick answer. “One year ago tonight was a very happy occasion for me. Violets were Uncle Brooke’s favorite flower. I cannot tell you how strangely I felt at sight of that basket. Jonas came into the library and asked me to go to the front door. He said in his solemn way: ‘There’s something at the door I would like you to see, Miss Susanna.’ He looked so mysterious, I rose at once from my chair and went to the door. I must explain, too, that the first of May was Uncle Brooke’s birthday. When I looked out and saw that basket of violets, it was like a silent message from him. Jonas had no more idea than I from whom the lovely May offering had come. He had heard the clang of the knocker, but when he opened the door there was not a soul in sight. The good fairy had vanished, leaving me a fragrant May Day remembrance.”

Marjorie had laughed at first sight of the familiar basket. She was still smiling, rather tremulously, however. The beauty of the decorations, the fragrance of the violets and the amazing knowledge that she had brought Brooke Hamilton’s favorite flower to the doorstep on the anniversary of his birth, made strong appeal to the fund of sentiment which lay deep within her, rarely coming to the surface.

“How came you to remember a crotchety person like me, child?” Miss Susanna’s bright brown eyes were soft with tenderness. She reached forward and took both Marjorie’s hands in hers.

Thus they stood for an instant, youth and age, beside the violet-crowned table. The other girls, lovely in their pale-hued evening frocks, surrounded the pair with smiling faces.

“I—I don’t know,” stammered Marjorie. “I—I thought perhaps you would like it. I couldn’t resist putting it on your doorstep. We were all making May baskets to hang on one another’s doors. I thought of you. I knew you loved flowers, because I had seen you working among them. That’s all.”

“No, that was only the beginning.” Miss Susanna released Marjorie’s hands. “It gave me much to think of for many months; in fact until a little girl put aside her own plans to help a poor old lady pick up a basket of spilled chrysanthemums.”

Appearing a trifle embarrassed at her own rush of sentiment, Miss Hamilton turned to the others and proceeded briskly to seat her guests at table. While she occupied the place at the head, she gave Marjorie that at the foot. Lifting the little basket at her place to inhale the perfume of the flowers, something dropped therefrom. It struck against the thin water glass at her place with a little clang. Next instant she was exclaiming over a dainty lace pin of purple enameled violets with tiny diamond centers.

“I would advise all of you to do a little exploring.” Miss Susanna’s voice held a note of suppressed excitement.

Obeying with the zest of girlhood, the others found pretty lace pins of gold and silver, chosen with a view toward suiting the personality of each.

As Marjorie fastened her new possession on the bodice of the violet-tinted crÊpe gown, which had been Mah Waeo’s gift to her father for her, she had a feeling of living in a fairy tale. Hamilton Arms had always seemed as an enchanted castle to her. She had never expected to penetrate its fastnesses and become an honored guest within its walls.

“Miss Susanna, when did you first guess that it was I who left you a May basket?” she asked, rather curiously. “Lucy and Jerry said you would find me out. I didn’t think so.”

“It was after Christmas, Marjorie,” the old lady replied. “Perhaps it was the bunch of violets on the wreath you girls sent for Uncle Brooke’s study that established the connection. I really can’t say. It dawned upon me all of a sudden one evening. I spoke of it to Jonas. The old rascal simply said: ‘Oh, yes. I have thought so for a long time.’ Not a word to me of it had he peeped. It furnished me with pleasant thoughts for so long, I decided that one good turn deserves another. I succeeded in surprising you children tonight, but no one could have been more astonished than I when I gathered in that blessed violet basket last May Day night.”