“Well, Bean, beneficent, belated Bean, I thought you were never coming.” Jerry Macy cheerfully addressed Marjorie from the top step of the veranda of Wayland Hall on which she was sitting viewing her chums’ progress up the walk with an encouraging grin.

“It’s only ten minutes past five,” Marjorie defended, her eyes seeking the clock tower of Hamilton Hall.

“You said five o’clock,” Jerry rebukingly reminded. “Learn to be dependable, my dear young lady. Then everyone will like you. I like you, anyway.” Jerry favored Marjorie with an effulgent smile.

“Thank you so much,” Marjorie bowed mock gratitude of Jerry’s graciousness. “What are you doing out here all by yourself? Where is everyone?”

“I might say that I left the ‘madding crowd’ to watch for you. Alas, it would not be true!” Jerry sighed. “Nobody’s home,” she added in a practical tone. “Can you beat that?”

“Where is everybody?” Marjorie mounted the steps and dropped gracefully down beside Jerry.

“Scattered to the four winds. Miss Remson went to town and Ronny and Muriel went with her. Leila and Vera are off and away, whereabouts unknown. The two freshies who are to have Number 12 arrived in a taxi about an hour ago. I assisted them with their luggage in my grandest post-graduate manner. They’re still roosting in 12, and getting accustomed to the scenery. Where’s Luciferous? I thought she’d be with you.”

“She wasn’t at Prexy’s house. He was splendid, Jeremiah. He will do all he can for Leslie.” Marjorie began an account of her interview with President Matthews.

“What do you know about that? What do you suppose she will say when she hears the good word?” Jerry looked pleased in spite of her none too warm regard for Leslie Cairns. “How do you suppose it will come to her? I wonder if Prexy will send for her to come to his office or if the Board will send her a notice, or what will happen?”

“I don’t know. I’m wondering most of all when it will be. Prexy said he should call a Board meeting soon. Do you think I ought to tell Leslie what I’ve done?” Marjorie eyed Jerry with thoughtful anxiety. “It’s almost certain.” Her color deepened as she thought of the president’s words of earnest commendation.

“No, I don’t.” Jerry’s answer was decided. “A surprise is one thing but a disappointment is quite another. I suppose she will live at the Hamilton House with Mrs. Gaylord. It seems queer to me—that our precious Hob-goblin, should be coming back to Hamilton as our bosom friend. It’s high time we wound up our campus affairs, Marvelous Manager, and kept time to the wedding march.”

“We? What do you mean, Jeremiah Macy?” Marjorie turned with merry suspicion upon Jerry.

“Nothing at all. I merely used ‘we’ as a figure of speech.” Jerry’s expression of innocence was perfect. The rush of tell-tale color to her cheeks betrayed her.

“You are an old fraud. You’re going to marry Danny Seabrooke. You can’t deny it.” Marjorie shook a playful finger at Jerry.

“Bean, I cannot tell a lie. I am; someday. But not for a whole year. The engagement won’t be announced till after your wedding. No one but Danny and the Macys and you know it. Swear, Marjorie Dean, that you won’t——”

Jerry broke off abruptly. She sprang up and ran down the steps calling “Come along” over one plump shoulder. Approaching across the campus and within a few hundred yards of Wayland Hall she had spied three white-clad figures. Jerry made for the trio at a run, twirling a welcoming arm high above her head.

Marjorie rose hurriedly and followed Jerry in her jubilant dash, her radiant face showing her delight in beholding the newcomers.

“Robin Page! Dear precious Pagey!” she cried, holding out both arms to her tried and trusted partner of campus enterprise. “I nearly looked my eyes out coming across the campus this afternoon, hoping that three girls I saw getting out of a taxi at Silverton Hall were you and Phil and Barbara. They weren’t. I was so disappointed.”

“We arrived in the usual taxi not more than half an hour ago. Silverton Hall is filling up fast with aspiring freshmen. We didn’t wait to make their acquaintance. Instead we started for Wayland Hall. We ’phoned the Arms first. Miss Susanna said you would be here at five.”

Robin delivered this information between the enthusiastic embraces of her pretty partner. Page and Dean beamed at each other with utter good will. Then Jerry claimed Robin with a vigorous hug and kiss. Marjorie, Phyllis Moore and Barbara Severn entwined arms in a triangular demonstration of buoyant affection.

“You should have seen us leave our luggage in one grand pyramid in the middle of Robin’s room,” laughed Phil Moore.

“Bags, suit cases, golf sticks, musical instruments, bundles, magazines and bandboxes all in reckless confusion,” declared Barbara with a wave of the hand.

“We were crazy to see you. Where are the other girls? How about dinner at Baretti’s?” Robin cried all in a breath.

“We’ve promised Miss Remson to stay here and spend the evening with her. You’re respectfully invited to stick,” Jerry told the welcome arrivals.

“All right. Guiseppe’s tomorrow evening then,” Robin returned radiantly.

“No; Hamilton Arms tomorrow evening. There’s to be a Travelers’ reunion,” Marjorie interposed. “Kathie and Lillian will be home this evening. All the old Travelers except Helen Trent will be here then. And Phil and Barbara of the new ones. Helen is coming to visit us at the Arms in November. She’ll stay till after Thanksgiving; maybe longer.”

“Oh, lovely. It’s simply glorious to be back.” Robin drew a long rapturous breath. “The dormitory is progressing wonderfully. We made the taxi driver stop a moment today so that we could take a look at it.”

“Mr. Graham says it will be ready for occupancy by the middle of March. Everything has gone as smoothly as could be this past summer, Robin. Mr. Graham says hardly an hour has been lost. He is making up daily for the time that was lost last winter. Things have gone ahead with such a rush since that set-back. The dormitory will be finished, he believes, not more than a month later than the date he first named for its completion.”

“Isn’t that glorious news?” Robin exclaimed animatedly. “Do you hear that, girls?” she called out to Phyllis and Barbara.

The reunited comrades were walking slowly toward the steps of the Hall now, arm in arm, their gay voices rising buoyantly on the stillness of the September afternoon. They had just reached the steps of the broad veranda when the throbbing of a taxicab engine brought all eyes to bear upon a station machine that was rolling up the drive.

“I hope it’s the Bertramites,” declared Marjorie.

“I choose to have it Doris Monroe,” Jerry laughingly differed.

The Travelers had paused by common consent at the foot of the steps eagerly watching the nearing automobile.

“Good night!” broke from Jerry in a subdued, disgusted voice as she glimpsed the occupants of the taxicab through the now opened doorway of the machine. It had stopped on the graveled square before the house and the driver had sprung from his seat to open the rear door of the machine for his fares.

The expressions on both Marjorie’s and Jerry’s faces were unconscious indexes of their disappointment. Marjorie had been fondly hoping to see Augusta Forbes’ tall graceful figure and handsome features emerge from the taxicab. Jerry knew that Muriel was most anxious for the return to the Hall of her roommate, Doris Monroe. To see moon-eyed Julia Peyton poke her head suspiciously out of the door of the machine had inspired Jerry with deep disgust.

The tall squarely-built figure of the sophomore who had stirred up so much trouble during the previous year followed the peering, pasty-white face and large round black eyes with their owl-like stare. Julia Peyton straightened, at the same time casting a darting glance at the group of girls near the steps. She drew her black brows together frowningly at sight of the quintette. With no sign of recognition she turned her back belligerently upon them and devoted herself to paying the driver.

Her companion of the taxicab, a short plump girl with a disagreeable face and bright red hair, emulated Julia’s example, her nose elevated to a haughty angle.

With the air of a grenadier, Julia picked up a leather bag which she had set down on the graveled space while she paid the driver. She stalked toward the steps across the small graveled interval, her black eyes fastened upon the front doorway of the Hall.

“Good afternoon Miss Peyton,” Marjorie greeted composedly as the haughty arrival passed the group. “Good afternoon, Miss Carter.”

A combined murmur of greeting arose from the other four Travelers who were quick to follow Marjorie’s lead.

Neither by word nor sign did Julia Peyton indicate that she was aware of the courteous salutation. Her chum and roommate, Clara Carter, imitated Julia in the discourtesy. The pair went grandly up the steps and to the door where Julia pressed a finger to the electric bell. Without waiting for a maid she flung open the screen door and stepped into the reception hall with Clara at her heels.

“A bad beginning makes a good ending. So ’tis said,” Phil Moore commented with cheerful satire as the unsociable pair of arrivals disappeared into the house.

“A decidedly bad beginning I should say,” Barbara Severn’s shoulders lifted with a disapproving shrug. “How extremely silly to carry one’s prejudices and resentments to such an extent.”

“It certainly is. Just the same if Marjorie hadn’t spoken to those two girls first, I shouldn’t have,” Robin confessed. “Not because of past displeasure toward them. It is one’s first impulse to return such a discourtesy in kind.”

“Did you imagine they would speak to you, Marjorie?” was Barbara’s interested question.

Marjorie smilingly shook her head. “No,” she said, “Miss Peyton hasn’t spoken to me since the evening of the Rustic Romp last spring. She has been nice to Leila, though. And generally to you, Robin, hasn’t she?”

“Um-m; so, so.” Robin answered lightly. “She certainly didn’t speak to me today.”

“That was only because you were with me,” Marjorie declared.

“And me,” echoed Jerry. “Don’t leave me out of things. There has been a Peyton-Macy feud ever since the night last year when Miss Peyton reported the social gathering in Fifteen as noisy, and she and I exchanged pleasantries. You three innocent, trusting Silvertonites were snubbed because of the company you keep.”

“May we always be found in the same company,” Robin said gaily.

“I wish we could all go up to Fifteen,” Marjorie remarked half wistful. “Annie says she thinks it has been taken. She heard Miss Remson tell Leila yesterday that she was saving it for someone. It hadn’t been taken, though, day before yesterday when I last saw Miss Remson.”

“Oh, let’s go into the living room then,” Robin proposed. “I have stacks of business to transact with you, dear partner.” She reached out and drew Marjorie into the circle of a loving arm. “Phil and Barby and Jerry can entertain one another.”

“What sort of entertainment do you prefer?” Phil asked Jerry with polite solemnity.

“I don’t know. I am not used to being entertained,” giggled Jerry.

The quintette were animatedly mounting the steps, their merry voices and fresh, light-hearted laughter enlivening the vacation quiet which had hung over the hall during the long summer days in the absence of the Hamilton girls to whom it yearly gave canopy.

Barbara’s keen ears were quick to catch the hum of an approaching motor. “Oh, there’s another taxicab coming!” she called out. “This time let’s hope it is Miss Remson and the girls.”

A battery of expectant glances was turned upon the station taxicab as it sped up the drive toward the house. A concerted little shout of jubilation went up from the watchers as it stopped and Veronica stepped lightly from the machine followed by Miss Remson, whom she gallantly assisted to alight, and Muriel.

“Oh, frabjous day!” Muriel made a rush for the three returned Silvertonites. A joyful tumult ensued, during which the driver of the taxicab circled the laughing, chattering knot of women in an uneasy prance, anxious to collect his fares and be gone.

Through an open window of the long second-story hall the merry sounds of rejoicing floated to the ears of Julia Peyton, who had been conducting a tour of investigation up and down the hall for her own satisfaction. She went to the window which overlooked the front yard and drive. Standing well back from it she sourly watched the animated, laughing group gather on the gravelled space below. The instant she saw it begin to move toward the steps she darted away from the window and into her room.

“What’s the matter?” Clara Carter had already removed her hat and traveling coat and was lounging in a cushioned wicker chair. She turned pale blue curious eyes upon Julia as the latter fairly dashed into the room, closing the door.

“Nothing is the matter, except that I don’t choose to be out in the hall when that crowd of P. G.’s comes upstairs,” she said crossly. “I’ve made up my mind to one thing. This year I am not going to have any more silly crushes like the one I had on Doris Monroe. I’m going to make the dramatic club and be of importance on the campus.”