“You are positive of it, Marylyn?” Stephanie Norris’s voice betrayed triumphant excitement. “You must be able to prove, you know, that she really is the person you saw in Paris, before you dare let the news get out on the campus. Otherwise she would fly at you like a hornet, or else take her troubles to Prexy.”

“I’m positive enough of what I tell you. I can prove it, too, by a French theatre program I have with her picture on the front cover. I have always been puzzled, wondering why her face seemed so familiar to me. I was sure I’d seen her somewhere on the Continent when we were abroad last summer. The night of the frolic I was more sure of it than ever when I saw her in that peachblow frock, doing that fancy trot with the tall soph. Even then I couldn’t place her. Yesterday afternoon I was talking to Miss Werner who was in Paris about the same time that we were. We both happened to remember a particularly good vaudeville show we’d seen there. Then it flashed across me, all of a sudden, ‘Le Petit Oiseau.’ That’s the way she was programmed. She came out first in a dress that was almost the same shade of pink as the one she wore to the frolic, and did some marvelously clever acrobatic stunts. Then she changed to a scarlet and black trapeze rig with cunning little black wings. She had a partner then, a catcher, I believe they call him, and then she did some toppo stunts on the flying trapeze.”

Marylyn Spencer, small, and rather pretty, save for a pair of lynx-like, calculating eyes, fairly paused for breath after her rapidly-spoken revelation. She was a faithful satellite of Stephanie’s, far more in harmony with the latter’s high-handed methods than was Laura. “I’ve written to Mother to send me the program. It was so artistic I kept it as a Paris souvenir. I know I’m right about it,” she finished emphatically.

“A common trapeze performer,” Arline Redmond said with infinite disdain. “That is the limit. No wonder she behaved like a wild cat to you at the frolic, Steve. She certainly doesn’t belong at Hamilton. There are colleges, of course, suited to such ambitious persons.” She laughed disagreeably. “She had nerve to come to Hamilton.”

“I imagine she got into Hamilton under false pretenses.” Stephanie took eager advantage of the opening. “Possibly Miss Cairns may know the truth about her. I’ll say the faculty doesn’t. When do you expect to receive that program from home, Marylyn?”

“Within three or four days. Why? What are you going to do?” she demanded curiously. More or less of her curiosity was reflected upon the faces of the other girls who were present in Stephanie’s room. Among the group Laura alone maintained a bored silence. No word of the gossiping conversation, going on animatedly in the room, was “getting by” her.

“Never mind what I’m going to do. Let me have that program as soon as you can. Then look out.” Stephanie gave a soft malicious little laugh.

“You’ll have to be very careful what you do, Steve,” warned Mildred Ferguson half sourly. She had been unable to “think up” a telling revenge against Jewel Ogden and was slightly peeved at Marylyn’s success. “If you start anything about Miss Ogden having been a circus performer going on the campus you’ll soon find both Miss Cairns and Miss Harper on your trail. They can make it hot for you, too.”

“That for Miss Cairns and Miss Harper,” Stephanie snapped contemptuous fingers. “Miss Harper is lovely to me, and Miss Cairns would be, too, if I gave her the slightest opening. Don’t worry, I know how to put this little stunt over, and no one, outside you girls here, will be able to say how it happened.”

“Much ado about nothing,” Laura had come out of her bored silence. “Possibly, after Steve has behaved like the villain in a melodrama you’ll then all discover that the Ogden kid doesn’t care a hang who knows she was once a trapeze performer. It may give her a fine boost on the campus.”

“Nothing of the sort.” Stephanie turned angrily upon Laura. “If she’d felt like that about it she would have boasted of it long ago, to me. She’s horribly conceited. No, indeed. She was always very evasive whenever I happened to ask her any personal questions. Besides, she told me she had attended Warburton Prep.”

“Possibly she had,” Laura retorted.

“I doubt it. You’re always on the wrong side of the fence lately. Since you don’t agree with me, please, at least, remember that this is a confidential talk,” Stephanie reminded icily.

“Now you have said something.” Laura thereupon subsided with an amused air which only an odd glint in her pale blue eyes contradicted.

Meanwhile Jewel had taken Leslie’s blunt advice to heart and was trying to regain the self-assured air that had characterized her during her first days at college. Hearing no further adverse criticisms of herself she was now glad that she had followed the line of conduct which Leslie had advocated.

Returning from a ride with Leslie in the late October dusk the eyes of both girls were simultaneously attracted by the sight of a folded newspaper held in place by the knob of their room door.

“The Hamilton Gazette,” Jewel read in surprise. “How queer, and it’s addressed to me! I wonder who put it there?”

“Some little mystery.” Leslie had already entered the room and switched on the light. Her thoughts elsewhere, she was paying no particular attention to the freshman as she stood ripping off the news sheet’s addressed wrapper. She heard, mechanically, the rustle of unfolding paper, followed by sudden silence.

“Oh-h-h-h!”

Leslie was unprepared for the long, anguished wail which Jewel sent up. Sight of the little girl’s horrified expression, and she came quickly forward, saying anxiously, “What’s the matter, Jewel?”

“Read it! Read it!” the freshman cried, holding the paper toward Leslie with shaking hands. “Look. You did that. No one but you could have done it. I—I—hate you!” She thrust the paper forcefully into Leslie’s hands.

“What?” Leslie had already busied herself with the fateful news sheet. Squarely at top center of the first page was a badly-blurred picture of a girl in a very short-skirted evening frock. Her pose, however, was distinctly theatrical. Despite blurred reproduction the girl in the picture was unmistakably Jewel. Below the picture Leslie read the large-type headline, “Trapeze Performer a College Innovation.”

Amazed interest glued Leslie’s eyes to the half column article below the head line. She read on, dimly conscious of Jewel’s accompanying angry voice.

“Where did you get that picture?” she finished in time to hear Jewel storm. “You had it all the time. You must have seen our show in Paris, then pretended innocence to me. That picture was on the theatre program, and you know it. No one else knew about me except you. How could you?”

“Come out of it, Jewel,” Leslie said with brusque kindness. “Listen to me. Didn’t I give you my word of honor regarding your secret?”

“Yes, and broke it,” Jewel flung back furiously.

“You should know me better than that. Try to be reasonable. What object would I possibly have in doing any such contemptible thing?”

“How should I know? Probably you told your friend Mrs. Macy about it. She may have told another of her intimate friends,” Jewel replied bitterly. “She—”

“I have told no one. Mrs. Macy is above reproach. You will kindly leave her name out of the discussion.” Pale with wrath, the chill of Leslie’s tones cut through Jewel’s anger.

“Perhaps she didn’t—” she began, half ashamed; Leslie, however, had reached the door and left the room without heeding the angry freshman’s half attempt at exoneration. Left to herself resentment against Leslie again possessed her. When, half an hour later, Leslie returned, well over the surge of black anger that had threatened to burst upon Jewel, the freshman appeared stonily unaware of her presence in the room.

In the dining room that evening girl comment ran decorously rife. Every freshie at the Hall had found a copy of the “Hamilton Gazette” at her door that afternoon. They awaited Jewel’s entrance into the dining room with more or less eager curiosity. She did not appear at dinner, to their signal disappointment. Far from being shocked at the write-up, the broader-minded element among them were inclined to lionize Jewel. Weighed down by a false sense of shame, she could not possibly guess this.

In Stephanie Norris’s room that evening a triumphantly lively discussion went on at Stephanie’s coup de grace. The freshman’s non-appearance at dinner they had chose to regard as significant.

“I knew I was right about her,” Marylyn Spencer elatedly repeated. “However did you manage, Steve? I mean so that there won’t be a come-back for you. Remember I must have that program back again.”

“I’m going into town tomorrow. I’ll send a messenger boy from the Hamilton House for it, and wait for its return to me there. I shall simply tell him,” Stephanie broke into an amused laugh, “to ask the editor for Miss Harper’s program.”

“Miss Harper?” went up in several different keys of surprise.

“Yes. It’s awfully funny. You see I happened to mention Miss Harper’s name in connection with the Playhouse, and the editor must have mistaken me for her. He very politely called me Miss Harper. So—” again she laughed,—“I let it go at that.”

“Then, no one can possibly connect us with—” Joyce Gray, Marylyn’s roommate began excitedly.

“This pleasant little joke,” Laura Taylor supplied mockingly. “You were in luck again, weren’t you, Steve.”

“Yes.” Stephanie cast a suspicious glance at Laura. The latter’s immobile face told her nothing.

“I imagine she will try to brave this out,” Mildred Ferguson said half contemptuously. “Some of the students are silly enough to begin making a fuss over her. We ought to do something more, before this affair dies out, to chase her off the campus.”

“What?” came in an expectant chorus.

“Haze her,” Mildred replied very deliberately.

“It’s strictly forbidden at Hamilton,” demurred Edith Barber. “It’s sure enough expellment if one is caught at it.”

“Oh, yes, of course, but one needn’t be caught at it. I know something we might do that couldn’t possibly be proven against us, if we were to be caught hazing that midget. Are you willing to try it out?”

“I am,” Stephanie made instant reply.

“I’d rather know what your plan is before making any promises,” Joyce said doubtfully.

“So should I,” came from two or three of the others.

“Never mind, I’ll tell you about it, then you can decide,” Mildred conceded. “There’s a room at the back of Hamilton Hall, first floor, that the students are permitted to use for rehearsals of campus house plays. All one has to do is to ask the janitor for the key, and it can be entered from a side door. The door opening upon the corridor can be locked. All one has to promise is to be out of the room by ten o’clock. First we’ll write Miss Ogden a note asking her to come to that room by the side entrance at eight o’clock on a certain evening for the discussion of a grave matter. We’ll simply sign it ‘Chairman, Senior Welfare Committee.’ When she steps into the room she’ll see seven masked figures in gray dominos waiting for her. One of us, it had better be Steve, will play chairman and make her a speech about campus interests demanding that she leave Hamilton. Steve will have to speak very sternly, so as to make her believe that she is really in bad with the best class of Hamilton students because of the write-up in the ‘Gazette.’ Nine chances out of ten she will swallow the bait and leave college. None of the rest of us will say a word, and Steve will have to disguise her voice. If anyone should happen to be around that might make trouble we can easily explain our presence there by saying we were simply rehearsing a little play, and deny knowing anything about either the note we’ll send her, or the Senior Welfare Committee. But there’s absolutely no danger of discovery.” Mildred glanced about the circle of interested faces, confident that she had scored.

“It’s a dandy scheme.” Stephanie drew a long breath of satisfaction. “But I can’t disguise my voice well enough to act as chairman. Laura can.” She looked dubiously at her roommate, not sure but that Laura would balk. “Would you be the chairman, Laura?” she asked persuasively.

“Yes.” Laura’s prompt acceptance made Stephanie open her eyes.

“I’ll write you a speech. You’ll have to learn it by heart and practice it,” Mildred told the stout freshman. “It ought to be something like this: ‘My dear Miss Ogden, it has long been the custom of a selected committee of seniors, secretly appointed each year by a certain person to deal privately with such matters as may rise to interfere with the welfare of the students of Hamilton.’ How is that?” she appealed, laughing.

“Fine,” exulted Stephanie.

An accompanying murmur of approval arose. Laura alone kept silence.

“What do you think of it, Laura?” Stephanie was aware of Laura’s muteness.

“It will answer the purpose. When will the party come off, where are the dominos to come from?”

“We’ll buy the cloth and make them. We can run them up by hand tomorrow night. I’ll make yours for you while you’re learning your part. I’ll write the speech this very night. This is Tuesday. We can try our little stunt on Thursday, provided no one else is going to use the room on Thursday night. I’ll find that out tomorrow morning. The sooner it happens, the sooner we’ll see the last of Jewel Marie Ogden.”