“It’s all right! It’s all right! Oh, splendid, great, celostrous!”

Marjorie slipped from her chair at the breakfast table in the sun-lit morning room of Hamilton Arms and began a vigorously joyful dance around the room, waving a letter over her head, her lovely face aglow.

“Thank you for using my new adjective,” Jerry commented politely, “but why such enthusiasm? Why such joyful gyrations?”

“Can’t you guess? Take a look at that envelope by my plate and you’ll know.” Marjorie came back to the table and resumed her place.

“I know. But then, I am a better guesser than Jerry,” Miss Susanna declared jokingly. “Your letter is from Doctor Matthews.”

“How could I know? Prexy Matthews never writes letters to me,” Jerry defended. “I’m neither a benefactor nor a biographer.”

“Yes, it is from Prexy. Listen to what he writes.” Marjorie read in an utterly happy tone:

“Dear Miss Marjorie:

“It becomes my great pleasure to inform you that I have successfully presented Miss Cairns’ case to the Hamilton College Board. I took up the matter with the members at a special meeting which I called on the day after our conversation relative to the matter. They asked for three days’ time in which to consider Miss Cairns’ case.

“Yesterday afternoon at a special meeting called by the chairman of the Board at Hamilton Hall the Board members came to the decision that, in the circumstances, Miss Cairns was to be commended in her desire toward moral restitution. Your plea in her behalf was incorporated into a regular motion which was voted upon. A unanimous vote in her favor was cast. It was also voted that I should notify Miss Cairns of her eligibility to return to Hamilton College as a student.

“Relative to notifying Miss Cairns of the Board’s favorable decision I should prefer to consult you in the matter before taking action. You may have some special preference in this respect which I should be glad to honor. Will you call at my office in Hamilton Hall at your convenience, on any afternoon of the week before Saturday, and before four o’clock?

Miss Susanna rose, trotted from the head of the oblong table to the foot and put both arms about Marjorie’s neck. “You good little thing,” she said with half quavering tenderness. “You deserve all the happiness life can give you. You’ve given Leslie her surest chance of becoming what she hopes now to be.”

“You would have done the same. I only happened to think of it first because she told me about having gone to Prexy herself,” Marjorie sturdily refused to credit herself with having done anything worthy of laudation.

“That’s the way all the big things for humanity have been done, child,” Miss Susanna returned soberly. “Some wholly unselfish person has happened to think of the other fellow first. Happened to think because his or her mind was centered on doing good.”

“You’re so dear, Goldendede.” Marjorie rubbed a soft cheek against Miss Susanna’s encircling arm. She chose this method of wriggling gracefully away from praise. “I’m going to send Leslie a telegram this morning asking her to come to Hamilton at once. I’ll go to see Prexy this very afternoon,” she decided with her usual promptness.

“That’s the right idea,” Jerry commended. “How I wish I could do noble deeds like you, Bean. I haven’t a single celostrous act to my credit that I know of. At least Miss Susanna hasn’t praised me for any,” she added. Her mischievous grin bespoke her lack of regret at her confessed defection.

“Nonsense.” Miss Susanna’s merry little chuckle was heard. “I’m surprised at your lack of conceit, Jeremiah. I know right now of three very celostrous acts to your credit.”

“Name them,” challenged Jerry. “Listen closely, Bean. Jeremiah is going to be praised. Ahem. All ready.” She straightened in her chair, lifted her dimpled chin, and put on a fixed stare of expectant modesty.

“You helped Jonas take up and put away the dahlia tubers. He hates that job. Second. You planned every bit of the Santa Claus fun last Christmas on purpose for a crotchety old woman who had never known much about Santa when she was a lonely kiddie. Third. You are a never ending source of diversion to your friends and a joy to have in the house. If you don’t believe that you are, go and ask Jonas,” the old lady finished humorously.

“I wouldn’t think of being so conceited.” Jerry put one hand before her face and peered bashfully around it at Miss Susanna.

“I can add something to what Miss Susanna says.” Marjorie’s gaze rested fondly upon Jerry. “You are the best pal in the world, Jeremiah. You have——”

“No, I haven’t. Excuse me. Good-bye. I’m going to help Jonas rake leaves this morning to put around the rose bushes. Want me to run you over to the campus in the car after luncheon?” she asked Marjorie as she reached the door.

“No, thank you. I’m going to walk. You’d better go with me, though. I am going to the Hall to see Miss Remson and the girls. I have an idea buzzing madly.” Marjorie smilingly tapped one side of her curly head. “You can rally the Travelers in Ronny’s room while I go to the Hall to see Prexy.”

Jerry came back. She paused beside Marjorie, head bent toward Marjorie’s curly one in an attitude of strained listening. “I can’t hear it,” she said.

“You’re going to, since you’ve taken the trouble to come back to listen for it. I was going to tell you, anyway. We ought to initiate Leslie Cairns into the Travelers on the same day she hears the good news from Prexy.” Marjorie glanced inquiringly from Jerry to Miss Hamilton. “We’d have a funny initiation for her; like the one we conducted for Phil and Barbara. It would put her at ease with us.”

“A good idea,” Miss Susanna instantly approved.

“You bet it is,” Jerry echoed with slangy emphasis. “But for goodness’ sake let us have it in Muriel’s room. It’s farthest away from the retreat of the Screech Owl and the Phonograph. Let’s give them no chance this time to complain of noise on our part.”

“We’ll invite the Lady of the Arms and the Empress of Wayland Hall to the initiation, then they won’t dare complain,” Marjorie laughed. “Too bad we can’t have it in good old 15. It’s larger than either Ronny’s or Muriel’s room.”

“Has someone taken 15?” Jerry asked quickly. “I forgot to ask you about it when you came from the Hall last time.”

“Miss Remson said the other day that she was considering a student who might take it. She seemed rather indefinite about it, so I didn’t ask her any further questions. Will you come to Leslie’s initiation, Miss Susanna?”

In spite of Marjorie’s merry assertion that the Lady of the Arms would be present on the gala occasion she now turned to the mistress of the Arms with the pretty deference which she had ever accorded Miss Susanna since their first meeting.

“Thank you, Marvelous Manager. I shall be delighted to attend such a splendid demonstration of your marvelous managing,” was the old lady’s indulgent reply.

“And we shall be even more delighted to have you.” Marjorie rose from her chair and offered a gay arm to her hostess. “Let me escort you into the sitting room, dear Goldendede.”

“No; let me.” Jerry offered the other arm.

The three paraded out of the morning room and down the wide, old-fashioned center hall to the sitting room.

“You’d better hurry up if you expect to rake any leaves today,” was Jonas’s succinct advice to Jerry as he appeared in the hall in overalls to consult Miss Susanna about certain of her rose bushes. “I’ll have ’em all raked up myself before you get near ’em.”

This warning, which was Jonas’s favorite method of joking sent Jerry’s gallantry to the winds. She dropped Miss Susanna’s arm and fled for the tool house and a rake.

After spending an hour with Miss Hamilton in the sitting room Marjorie went up stairs to the study. There, with Brooke Hamilton’s deep-blue eyes upon her, she wrote her semi-weekly letter to Hal. She loved best to write to him in the quietness and peace of the room where she had learned the truth of her love for him because of Brooke Hamilton’s disappointment and sorrow.

“I am going to work on your story again before long,” she whimsically promised the portrait of the founder of Hamilton College as she settled herself at the antique library table to write to Hal. “I haven’t forgotten you, but for a while I must leave you and work for your college.”

It was with a feeling of glad exultation which brought a starry brightness to her eyes and a deeper tide of rose to her cheeks that she left Jerry at Wayland Hall after luncheon and went on with a springy, happy step to stately Hamilton Hall. She had already telephoned a telegram to the telegraph office in the town of Hamilton. The telegram was to Leslie, at her apartment in Central Park West, New York City. She had confidently worded it: “Come to Hamilton at once. Important. Wire day and train. Marjorie.”

Her interview with President Matthews was brief but eminently satisfactory. It resulted in the arrangement that on whatever day Leslie Cairns should arrive in Hamilton she should be escorted to President Matthews’ office by Marjorie, there to hear the good news from the head of the college himself.

As she went down the steps of Hamilton Hall she had hard work to keep from setting off across the campus at a frisky run. She decided with a smile dimpling the corners of her red lips that the dignity of the occasion forbade it. When within a few yards of the Hall, however, dignity ceased to count. She sped high-heartedly across the short thick campus grass to the steps, intent only upon seeing her chums and laying her kindly plan before them.

“You had better make up your mind to stay here to dinner this evening, children,” Miss Remson offered this advice to Marjorie and Jerry shortly after Marjorie’s arrival. To the great disappointment of both girls not one of the Wayland Hall Travelers was at home. “Call up the other Travelers and tell them to come, too. Then you can go into your old room, 15, and discuss the initiation of Leslie Cairns. I must say it is the very last thing I should suppose might happen.” The little manager’s tone was one of accepted wonder at such a state of affairs.

“Hasn’t 15 been taken yet?” Jerry cannily fished for information.

“Not yet.” Jerry surprised an odd, wise, bird-like gleam in the little manager’s kindly eyes which she knew of old to mean that Miss Remson had a secret she was shrewdly guarding. “A senior I know has the refusal of it. She has not decided upon it yet. I had two applications yesterday for it. I wish you and Marjorie were to have it this year. Now girls, go and do your telephoning. I must see the cook about the dinner.” Miss Remson bustled off in her alert, brisk manner.

“There’s some kind of mystery afoot about old 15,” Jerry surmised shrewdly. “You can’t fool Jeremiah. She has what Leila calls ‘the seeing eye.’ I can see all right enough that Miss Remson has something on her mind about our old fond, familiar hanging-out place that she isn’t ready to tell us. When she does get ready to talk about it, it will be some surprise, Bean; some surprise.”