“Am I awake, or dreaming? Did I come out of Hamilton Hall just now? If I did, what was it I heard Prexy say? Prexy.” Leslie Cairns repeated the name with tremulous satisfaction. “I’ve a right to say it now. Thanks to you, Marjorie Dean, I am back on the campus again. I’m going to cry, Marjorie. I was determined I wouldn’t before Prexy. I tried to take my pardon like a good soldier. But now I am thinking of my father. What will Peter the Great say?”

“I think Peter the Great will say, ‘Go to it, Cairns II., and be the happiest person I know.’” Marjorie assured, smiling her amusement of Leslie’s reference to her father as Peter the Great. “Come on over to the Bean holder, Leslie. We can sit there for awhile, and, if you must cry, no one will notice your weeps.”

Her arm tucked into one of Leslie Cairns’, Marjorie began steering her companion gently toward a great-trunked, towering elm tree some distance east of Hamilton Hall under which were two rustic benches.

“This is my favorite tree on the campus, Leslie,” Marjorie introduced her companion to the giant campus sentinel with a cheery wave of the hand. “You named me Bean, and the girls named this seat the Bean holder because I’ve always loved to come here.” All this with a view toward dispelling Leslie’s desire to cry.

That which Leslie had believed could never come to pass had happened. She and Marjorie Dean had just emerged from Hamilton Hall where she had gone with Marjorie a brief twenty minutes before to hear from President Matthews the amazing news of her re-instatement as a student at Hamilton College.

“That wretched name, Bean. It makes me laugh.” Leslie was half laughing, half crying. “It always made me laugh, even when I thought I hated you.”

“It’s a fine name. I’m awfully fond of it,” Marjorie assured with sunny good humor.

They made the rest of the short journey to the seat under the big elm in silence. Leslie continued to fight desperately against shedding tears. Marjorie was sympathetically leaving her to herself until she should recover her usual amount of poise.

“The view of the campus is beautiful from here,” Marjorie said as they seated themselves on one of the two benches drawn up near the tree. She looked off across the expanse of living green, worship of her old friend, the campus, in her wide brown eyes.

Leslie assented. Her gaze was directed to Marjorie rather than the campus. She thought she had never seen anyone quite so lovely. Today Marjorie had blossomed out in the pale jade frock of softest silk and black fur trimmings which Jerry had advocated on the occasion of her first call upon President Matthews. From the crown of the small hat which matched her frock to the dainty narrowness of her black satin slippers Marjorie was a delight to the eyes.

Attired in a two-piece traveling frock of distinctive English weave and make, Leslie herself was looking far more attractive than in the old days when she had been a student at Hamilton. Happiness and a clear conscience had done much to change her former lowering, disagreeable facial expression to one of pleasant alertness and good humor. She had come to Hamilton the day following the receipt of Marjorie’s telegram on an early afternoon train, Marjorie had met her at the station and after a luncheon at the Ivy the two girls had gone direct to Hamilton Hall.

Now that Leslie was in possession of the glad knowledge that her dearest wish had been granted Marjorie had other plans for her of which she was totally unaware as she sat staring half absently at the campus, her mind busy with wondering what her father would say when he heard the blessed news she had to tell him.

“I’ll go back to New York tomorrow, Marjorie, and tell Peter the Great the good news. Then I’ll give Mrs. Gaylord three times a year’s salary and have my father book passage for her to Europe on the Monarch. She’s crazy to go to England and France. I shan’t need her. I’m going to engage board in one of the off-campus boarding houses.” Leslie broke the silence with this decided announcement. “I could live at the Hamilton House with Mrs. Gaylord as a chaperon, but I’d rather not. I’d be too conspicuous. Of course, I’d love to live in one of the campus houses. But that’s out of the question.”

“I wish you could live on the campus, Leslie. I think it would be best for you, if you could find a vacancy. It’s almost too late now to hope to find one. I’ll inquire tomorrow for you, and see what I can learn.” Marjorie spoke with the utmost friendly concern.

“No; don’t.” Leslie shook a vigorous head. “There’s not a manager of a campus house who doesn’t know my record when I was here before. Not one of them would consent to take me. Besides”—Leslie hesitated—“there’s only one house on the campus where I’d care to live—Wayland Hall. That’s out of the question. You can understand why.” A flush of shame mounted to Leslie’s cheeks.

“It wouldn’t be if there were a vacancy at the Hall,” Marjorie declared. “Miss Remson is glad you are to come back to Hamilton. She knows about it. I told her the other day after receiving Prexy’s letter. Our old room, Fifteen, was vacant when I first came back. If I had been sure of succeeding with Prexy and the Board for you, I would have asked Miss Remson to save Fifteen for you. But I wasn’t sure. Besides, I couldn’t know what your plans might be, in case I should succeed.”

“I’d never go back to the Hall after the way I made trouble for Miss Remson,” Leslie replied with gloomy positiveness. “No; I’ll find as good a boarding house as I can off the campus. Understand, Marjorie, I’d rather live on the campus for one big reason. I’d have to fight to live down my past record as a snob and a trouble-maker. That would be good for me, though. I’d be gossiped about; maybe ostracized by a large proportion of the students. But I’d work as hard for democracy as I’d once worked against it. And the Travelers would stand by me. Perhaps before next Commencement I’d have come into a better light in the eyes of the Hamilton crowd, students and faculty.”

She paused, then shrugged her shapely shoulders and continued with a short laugh: “Forget it. That’s only a day dream I’ve been indulging myself in. You see I keep thinking of trying to square myself on the campus because of Peter the Great. I want him to come and live at Carden Hedge, and be happy. I’d love to have the Leila Harper Playhouse presented to Leila by him. So I soar off into splendid schemes of how I can make good at Hamilton and bring everything out lovely like the end of a fairy tale. It can’t be done, Bean.” Leslie used the nickname with absent affection.

“There is one thing I can do,” she went on in a tone of purposeful energy. “I can complete my college course and win my sheepskin. You’ve made that opportunity possible for me. I hope I can some day do something for you to show my appreciation, Marjorie.”

“You can. This very afternoon.” Marjorie had been wondering how she might find means to persuade Leslie to go to Wayland Hall with her. She was confident that Leslie would refuse the invitation which she was awaiting a favorable moment to extend. She seized upon her companion’s grateful declaration with dancing eyes. “You can come over to Wayland Hall with me. I’m going to meet Jerry there. Come on.” Marjorie had risen from the seat and was holding out an inviting hand to Leslie.

“Oh, I—” Leslie checked herself and stood up. “All right,” she agreed cheerfully. In the face of her recent serious assertion she was determined not to flinch.

Marjorie cast a furtive glance at her wrist watch as she drew one of Leslie’s arms within her own. It was exactly 4 o’clock. The two girls headed across the campus for the Hall. Leslie scanned the veranda of the house where she had once courted and met disaster with anxious eyes. She was relieved to see not a girl in sight. Marjorie was also watching the veranda for a very different reason.

They were within a short distance of the Hall when a girl in a sleeveless apricot frock came out on the veranda. She spied the pair and twirled a plump bare arm above her head, disappearing inside in a hurry.

“There’s Jerry.” The dancing lights strengthened in Marjorie’s brown eyes. “She’s watching for us.” Tightening her light hold upon her companion’s arm she hastily escorted her up the steps and to the door. It opened suddenly. Three pairs of arms reached forth from across the threshold, seized Leslie and hustled her into the house. Next instant she stood bewildered, but smiling, in the hall surrounded by a merry group of girls. Her initiation in the Travelers had begun.