“And is it yourself, and no other? Is it not time you put in an appearance at the Hall with many apologies for having forgotten us?” Leila Harper ushered Marjorie into her room, her smiling lips in decided apposition to her severe tone.

“It is myself, and, may I ask, who else might it be?” Marjorie retorted as she and Leila enthusiastically wrung hands.

“Ask me nothing. I am that glad to see you, I have no flip answer at my tongue’s end. We have all been busy, it would seem. I have been at the Playhouse, with only the typewriter for company, pounding out the parts for my opening play. Midget was invited to become co-editor with Jane Everest on the ‘Campus Echo.’ Leslie is wrestling with a queer problem of her own. You will hear more about it this evening. And Hamilton Arms has held you a willing captive. We should have come to see you in the evening, except that we have had callers here every night for a week. The Bertramites dinner at Baretti’s ended my social rush for a while. I shall begin to lead the life of a hermit for the next three weeks.”

“You can’t. Miss Susanna had ordered yours and Vera’s presence at the Arms at seven o’clock dinner tomorrow night. You are to bring Kathie, Lucy, Lillian and Doris with you. You are to tear them away from any engagements they may have made. Goldendede has something important to tell the Travelers. Robin and Phil are coming, too. I’ve already ’phoned them.”

“Now what has happened?” Leila cocked her head inquisitively to one side. “This much I can guess. Leslie knows all about it. When I asked her for news of the Arms last night, knowing that she had lunched there yesterday, she had little to say except that the library looked fine, and Miss Susanna was well. I saw mystery in the tail of her eye. But I am so polite. I said nothing to her about it.” Leila gave Marjorie a drolly hopeful glance.

“I tell you a tiny little bit, Leila Greatheart,” Marjorie conceded indulgently. “Something happened yesterday at the Arms that was in the nature of an astonishing surprise. Leslie was there when it happened. Goldendede wishes the girls she has invited to dinner to hear about it. She intends to tell them.”

Marjorie felt the color rising in her cheeks. Her own surprise at the finding of Brooke Hamilton’s notebook had been secondary to that of Miss Hamilton’s avowed choice of “the one.” To cover her sudden feeling of confusion she asked hastily, “Where is Vera?”

“Now you are asking me something. Midget is at the freshie frolic. It’s tonight, you know, and seems a very clannish affair. There were more than enough sophs to go round. No juniors or seniors were invited this year to help on escort duty. Midget was asked to be one of the three judges of the beauty contest. She, Doris and Calista Wilmot are the fateful trio. The contest was to be held at nine-thirty, so Midget will be here before you go.”

“There’s a freshie at the dormitory who ought to win it,” Marjorie declared with enthusiasm. “I don’t know her name, but I do know she is a beauty. I happened to be over at the dorm the day she arrived. She actually took my breath. She has violet blue eyes and curly black auburn hair, and the sweetest face, with a skin like a roseleaf.”

“I’ve met her. Her name is Carol Burke. The dorms are hoping she’ll win the contest. They say, though, that she will be awfully upset, if she should win it; that she’s very shy, and retiring, with but little idea of her own good looks. That is the way you were, Beauty, when I dragged you into the first contest.” Leila flashed Marjorie one of her inimitable smiles.

“I remember I felt awfully cross with you because of it,” Marjorie reminded. “Now, in my settled old age, I can afford to smile over it.”

“But if you were to walk into the gym tonight in your violet dress you would win it again,” Leila predicted.

“My violet dress!” Marjorie hurried away from the subject of the contest. “It seems strange, Leila, but it looks as lovely as ever; not a bit old style. Captain shortened it and took out the sleeves, and now it’s a dream. How are the Bertramites? I must have them over at the Rest soon to dinner.”

“They are—” Two deliberate, successive knocks on the door sent Leila scurrying to open it for Leslie, who had dropped Marjorie at the Hall and had then gone on to the garage with her roadster.

“Come on into my room for a while,” Leslie invited. “Marjorie hasn’t seen Fifteen since it was done over. Jewel Marie is gaily fox-trotting at the frolic, thank goodness, and we can discuss the affairs of the universe in peace. Leave a scrawl on the table for Vera when she comes in, Leila. Have you seen Miss Remson yet?” she turned to Marjorie.

“Yes; only for a moment. She had to go to town on unexpected business. I’ll run over tomorrow to see her. Goldendede wants her to be at the dinner tomorrow night.”

“’Tis done. ‘Midget, Attention! Come to Fifteen. No knocking necessary,’” Leila read out, then gave the penned message a vigorous drying fluttering before running it through with a long, black-headed pin, and sticking the pin into the middle of the study table.

Leslie closed the door of Fifteen behind her comrades to the tune of admiring exclamation from Marjorie.

“Can this celostrous cozy corner be old Fifteen?” Marjorie’s face glowed appreciation of Leslie’s artistry.

“It can be. It is.” Leslie showed her pleasure of Marjorie’s lively approval of her color scheme and arrangement. “I liked it a little better before I changed things around in order to make room for Miss Ogden,” she said.

“I am still wondering at your cleverness, and also at how it came about that you gathered in the homeless Miss Ogden,” Leila said a trifle inquisitively. “Now tell me nothing.” She put up her hand, laughing as though to ward off an unsolicited confidence. “I am not as inquisitive as I seem.”

“I’m still wondering myself how I happened to drag in that kid,” Leslie confessed, smiling. “She was no end disappointed because she couldn’t find a campus room. I’m only going to be here till Christmas. It seemed so selfish in me to bar the midget out. I’ve a sort of plan going in my head about Fifteen—something I’d like to do with it when I leave here to go to a real home.”

“What, Leslie?” Marjorie was all interest.

“I’m going to will my half of Fifteen to the first girl on the dormitory waiting list. If she doesn’t want it, then the next on the list will do. It will be a free proposition, same as the dormitory, but with all the comfy advantages that being on the campus means.”

“Your plan is just like you, Leslie. It’s lovely,” Marjorie accorded with quiet sincerity.

“You are a noble Cairns, and I think well of you,” Leila spoke lightly, but Leslie understood the undercurrent of earnestness in the speech. The Irish girl was wondering, however, what the effect of the carrying out of Leslie’s plan would be upon Miss Ogden. She suspected her of being a social climber which would not accord at all with Leslie’s scheme of things.

As though reading her mind, Leslie remarked speculatively, “I am going to talk to Miss Ogden about Fifteen. I haven’t yet explained it to her. I hardly believe she will make any objection to it when I finally tell her. That will be shortly before I leave here for Carden Hedge.”

Watching Leslie’s face Marjorie glimpsed the shadow of the old dominating leader who had ruled the frivolous San Soucians by sheer determined will.

“Do you like Miss Ogden, Leslie?” sprang impulsively from her lips. Immediately she became vexed with herself for having unthinkingly asked so personal a question. “I shouldn’t have asked you that,” she apologized quickly.

“Glad you did. It’s given me an opening to speak my mind to you and Leila about her, and also this crowd of freshies from New York who are at the Hall. You ask me if I like Miss Ogden. Yes, and no. At heart she’s a democrat. Outwardly, she’s a goose, with snobbish aspirations. She’ll need more than one jolt to wake her up to herself, and she’s in a fair way soon to gather in the first one. The New York freshies are snobs, Marjorie; same type as the Sans. Leila, Vera and I discovered as much the day we first met them. The Ogden kid is wild about them; has a crush on Miss Norris, the banner snob of the gang. Experience is a great teacher! I understand this bunch of high hats. She doesn’t. I can’t very well warn her against them. They’re her classmates. She would probably resent such a warning, as a meddlesome interference on my part. Still, I hate to see her hurt without having first done what I can to prevent calamity. Leila, Vera and I have been keeping a starboard eye upon her, trying diplomatically to steer her clear of snags. We decided we’d best consult you about her, Marvelous Manager.” Leslie’s eyes rested expectantly upon Marjorie.

“Why underrate your own superior capabilities?” Marjorie glanced from Leila to Leslie with twinkling eyes.

“We are but poor playhouse managers, and, at that, far from marvelous. It is one thing to manage mummers, in a make-believe drama. They are pleased to be managed. But to attempt to manage freshies, in a real drama, who have no taste for being managed, is quite another.” Leslie made a deprecatory gesture. “These New York freshies, Beauty, are an innovation at Hamilton. They are a gay, noisy set in their rooms, going back and forth to them through their end of the hall with plenty of laughter and commotion. To the other students at the Hall they show small friendliness. Miss Ogden loses no opportunity to court favor with them. We know they make sport of her behind her back, for we have heard them sneer about her. They patronize her to her face. Why they do not snub her outright, as they have two or three of the sophs at the Hall, we wondered, until yesterday. Then we heard that at the freshie class meeting she nominated Miss Norris, their leader, for president. Now we shall see what we shall see,” Leila said significantly.

“Was Miss Norris elected president?” Marjorie inquired interestedly.

“Yes; her crowd had been busily electioneering for her. She won over Miss Foster of Acasia House by only two votes. Her roommate, Miss Taylor, gave a dinner for her last night at Baretti’s.”

“Was Miss Ogden invited?” Marjorie’s interest had deepened.

“Yes! I was glad to hear from Leslie that she was.”

“She had Miss Taylor to thank for it,” Leslie interposed. “If any other girl in that crowd had given it, I’ll say Jewel Marie wouldn’t have had a look in. This Miss Taylor is rather different from the others. She’s stout and sleepy-looking. She appears stodgy until one happens to see her laugh. When she laughs, and that’s not often, her whole face changes. One sees humor written on every feature. She’d make a wonderful Touchstone in ‘As You Like It.’”

“Yes, and Miss Norris would make a fine Henry the Fifth. I’m thinking of putting it on at the Playhouse this winter. Still, she is one I am not anxious to manage. I am not fond of wrangling,” Leila made a wry face, “and I have heard her differ, far from politely, with the girls of her own set.”

“It’s this way, Marjorie,” Leslie broke in seriously, “Miss Norris at first almost ignored Miss Ogden. All of a sudden, she became quite gracious to her; she lunched Miss Ogden at the Colonial and invited her into the sacred precincts of her room a couple of times. Jewel Marie nearly expired with joy. She would have followed her crush about like a faithful terrier, if I hadn’t kept her busy trotting around with me. Leila and I both predicted that the bubble would burst soon after election. Since then Miss Ogden has twice invited Miss Norris to dinner at Baretti’s. On both occasions she has disappointed the kid at the last minute with flimsy excuses. She’s still fatuously blind, and the eye-opening process is going to be some shock to her. I’m tempted to let her hear me out, straight from the shoulder, then let her rave. By the time she finds herself dropped by her crush she’ll be able to meet the terrible blow without making herself ridiculous.” There was a suspicion of good-humored scorn in Leslie’s voice. “She isn’t remarkably tactful. She’s more likely to go up in the air over the snub, just because of her hurt feelings.”

“I believe I’d try the straight-from-the-shoulder tactics, Leslie,” was Marjorie’s thoughtful advice. “Miss Ogden may be angry with you, at first, but she will understand afterward that you were trying to help her. It will prepare her in a measure for what you believe is going to happen, even though she should resent your warning at the time it is given.”

“I’ll have a talk with her in the morning,” Leslie nodded with decision. “She was planning on having a good time tonight. I’m not going to spoil pleasant memories of it by croaking. Miss Felton took her to the frolic.”

“Oh, I remember her. She is the pretty, brown-haired girl who was the first to protest against the petition Miss Ferguson started on that memorable night last spring here at the Hall,” Marjorie said with a reminiscent smile.

“She’s a mighty nice girl,” Leslie returned, “and I wish, for her own sake, that this misguided roommate of mine had a crush on Miss Felton. Muriel’s show was a greater success than she thought it might be. The sophs at the Hall, who joined the Lotus Club as freshies, are a congenial crowd this year, with the exception of Miss Ferguson. She has attached herself to the New York crowd, and is very pally with Miss Norris. I daresay the N. Y.’s know my past campus history better than I do,” Leslie declared with grim satire. “They try to ignore my existence whenever they can, for which I thank them.”

“Wait until my theatre article appears next week in the ‘Echo.’ Then you will suddenly see a great change among them. What girl does not love the idea of acting? Leila and I will then be ranked as desirable acquaintances rather than antiquated P. G.’s,” Leslie humorously prophesied.

Mention of the Playhouse turned the conversation from Leslie’s “misguided” roommate into a more pleasing channel. Leila had decided to open the theatre with an elaborate performance of “The Merchant of Venice.” She proposed next to follow the Shakespearean drama with a revue, then, later, to present her new Irish play, “The Leprachaun.” After the holidays she hoped to put on “Henry the Fifth,” provided she could secure a cast to suit her critical fancy.

“It will be no trick to find a cast for the Merchant of Venice,” she told her interested companions. “Doris will add to her campus fame as Portia, Gussie will make an ideal Antonio, and Miss Duncan will cover herself with glory in playing Shylock. On Bassonio, I have not yet decided. I may ask Miss Taylor, the stout freshman, to play the part. She is tall enough, and broad enough of shoulder, to play a man’s part well.” Leila glanced questioningly from one to the other of her chums. “She interests me, and, incidentally, it may lead to a better state of affairs here at the Hall. I suspect her of having some influence upon her crowd. They babble like brooks when together, but she, I have noticed, says little, though her oddly pale blue eyes miss nothing.”

“Don’t ever talk to me again about marvelous managing,” Marjorie exclaimed. “You are the real Marvelous Manager. You’ve picked up a trail to a better state of affairs here, already. Go ahead; ask Miss Taylor to—”

The unexpected violent opening of the door cut off Marjorie’s unfinished sentence. Three pairs of eyes suddenly directed themselves at the tempestuous entrant. A very small girl in a peachblow-hued evening frock had fairly bounced into the room, banging the door behind her.