Blissfully unaware of Julia Peyton’s ambitious schemes against them and democracy at Hamilton the Travelers finished their dessert amidst plenty of fun and laughter and flocked upstairs and into 15 again, there to spend one of their old-time merry “stunt” evenings.

Ronny danced to Phil’s violin music. Robin sang, accompanied by the same talented, infallible musician. Phil’s violin playing had become institutional with the Travelers. She was always equal to musical emergency. Leila and Vera convulsed their buoyant audience with a quaintly humorous Irish dialogue which they had found in an old book while in Ireland and had gleefully learned. Jerry partly sang a popular song off the key until she was drowned out by laughter.

Muriel recited a monologue which she had composed and named: “Back on the campus.” Barbara sang a French song. Kathie and Lillian endeavored to sing together an old German song precisely as Professor Wenderblatt was wont to sing it in his full bass voice. They broke down in the midst of deep-uttered bass growls and gutterals and lost track of the tune so completely they never found it again, but subsided with laughter.

Marjorie and Lucy pleaded having no stunt to offer and were each ordered to recite their favorite short poem. Marjorie thereupon recited “To a Grecian Urn,” and Lucy gave Poe’s weird, “Ulalume.” Leslie won quick approval by her prompt response to the demand by giving a funny series of imitations.

The feature of the stunt party was contributed, however, by Miss Remson and Miss Susanna. They had conducted a chuckling confab together at one end of the room into which they had invited Phil. She had listened to them, then laughingly nodded, played a few bars of an odd little tune on her violin and returned to her place in the center of the room.

When Phil presently tapped on her violin with her bow, the two little old ladies stepped gaily out, hand in hand, in a lively jigging dance. They pranced forward and back, clasped right hands above their heads and jigged around each other, clasped left hands and jigged again, joined right and left hands and spun in a circle then polkaed up and down the room with spirit. There were other variations to the dance which they performed with equal sprightliness. Their delighted audience gurgled and squealed with laughter, breaking forth into riotous applause as the jigging pair reached their throne and sank upon their cushions, breathless and laughing.

Marjorie thought she had never seen a prettier sight than the pair of dainty little old ladies in their charming satin dresses stepping out so blithely to the old-fashioned polka.

“That is the Glendon Polka if you care to know it,” Miss Susanna informed the girls. “I used to dance it as a girl, and I found that the Empress of Wayland Hall knew how to dance it, too. I learned to dance it before going to my first party. Uncle Brooke engaged a dancing master to come and teach me the latest dances.”

“The latest dances.” Jerry said with an enjoying chuckle. “Not much like a fox trot, is it?”

“I believe I must have learned that polka from the same dancing master,” Miss Remson said. “I lived in West Hamilton as a girl and went to dancing school. It was a Professor Griggs who taught me the Glendon polka.”

“The same man,” Miss Susanna declared brightly. The two old ladies beamed at each other. This little coincidence relative to their youth served to strengthen the bond of friendship between them.

“This is the queer part of the Glendon polka,” Phil said. “When Miss Susanna said she and Miss Remson were going to do an old-time dance called the Glendon polka, I remembered I’d seen that title in an old music book at home. I had tried it and learned to play it when I first began to take violin lessons as a kiddie. I had liked it because it was such a frisky little tune.”

“You never dreamed then that someday you would play it for two old ladies to frisk to, did you?” Miss Remson gently pinched Phil’s cheek as she sat balanced on the edge of the throne, her violin in hand.

“I never did,” Phil laughed. “I’ll never forget the Glendon polka.”

“It seems we hadn’t forgotten how to dance it in spite of our years,” Miss Susanna said with a little nod of satisfaction.

“Did you know there were prizes to be given for the best stunts?” Katherine Langly joined the group around the throne. Kathie was looking her radiant best in a coral beaded afternoon frock of Georgette. Her blue eyes were sparkling with light and life and her red lips broke readily into smiles. She bore small likeness to the sad, self-effacing sophomore the Travelers had taken under their protective wing at the beginning of their freshman year at Hamilton. Kathie was now commencing her second year as a member of the faculty. She was famed on the campus as a playwright and her triumphantly literary future was assured. She had already sold several short stories to important magazines and had begun her first novel.

“Ronny is going to be magnificently generous, so she says, and give out the prizes. She’s gone to her room after them,” Lillian added to the information Kathie had just given.

“‘Magnificently generous’” Kathie repeated suspiciously. “That doesn’t sound promising to me. I know she means us.”

“Could any persons be more worthy of a prize,” giggled Lillian. “Remember how hard we worked.”

Ronny soon returned wearing a mischievous expression. She carried a good-sized paper-wrapped package on one arm. In one hand she held two small packages which suggested jewelry. The girls guessed the large bundle to contain one or more boxes of the delicious candied fruit from her ranch home of which she always had a stock on hand.

“Hear, hear!” Ronny placed her bundles on the table and waved both arms above her head for attention. “Who had the best stunt?” she called out. “Altogether; answer!”

“The Lady of the Arms and the Empress of Wayland Hall,” came back an instant concerted murmur of response.

“Contrary-minded?”

“No,” piped up these two distinguished but extremely modest dancers.

“Two against eleven. Prepare to receive the prize.” Ronny importantly opened the paper wrapper of the large package and took from it two sweet-grass square baskets of candied fruit. She presented them in turn with many bows and flourishes to the two elderly women.

“Who won the booby stunt?” she next demanded of the company.

Concerted opinion differed as to whether Jerry, or Kathie and Lillian were more eligible to the booby prize. Further inquiry and Jerry was eliminated in favor of Lillian and Kathie. The prizes turned out to be two small willow whistles such as the cow-boys at ManaÑa were adept at making.

“Next time whistle. Don’t attempt to sing,” was Ronny’s succinct advice as she presented the would-be bass singers with the whistles.

“We can be noisy tonight and still be protected.” Marjorie made gay declaration. She was realizing with the burst of light laughter which greeted Ronny’s presentation of the booby prizes that the Travelers had been enjoying a most hilarious session. “Miss Remson is right here to know precisely how boisterous we are. Thank fortune, hardly anyone is back.”

“I can’t imagine why we haven’t been notified of our noise by Miss Peyton,” Jerry commented to Marjorie under cover of conversation.

As it happened Julia had become so greatly interested in her inspirational plan for a new sorority which was to tear down democracy at Hamilton and re-establish snobbery that she and Clara had forgotten to be annoyed at the sounds of mirth, which, in reality, could hardly be heard with her door closed.

“I took pains to find out today if any of the freshmen had studying to do this evening,” the little manager said. “None had. I haven’t considered Miss Peyton and Miss Carter in the matter. They have not yet spoken to me since they arrived. I am sure they have no studying to do this evening.” Her tone grew dry at mention of the two discourteous juniors.

Immediately she went on to a change of subject. “Girls,” she said in her brisk, pleasant fashion, “will you please make yourselves comfy, and listen to me? I am going to tell you something of the student whom I hope will take 15.”

“At last.” Marjorie breathed a purposely audible sigh. “I think you have been very mysterious about her, Empress of Wayland Hall.”

A buzzing murmur rose from the others as they took seats around the make-shift throne or comfortably established themselves upon cushions on the floor.

Leslie Cairns showed considerable embarrassment when Miss Susanna imperiously waved her into the middle seat of the throne. She had laughed unrestrainedly at the fun that evening, but she had said very little. She was hardly beginning to get over the strangeness of being a member of the very sorority she had once scorned.

“This girl,” Miss Remson said, “is a young woman for whom I have a growing regard. She wrote me in the summer and I was deeply impressed by her letter. She did not then expect to enter Hamilton nor did I have 15 in view for her. As it happened no one applied for 15. There was a difference in price between it and the other rooms I had vacant which no one who applied seemed to wish to pay.

“As soon as I knew that she was coming to Hamilton I reserved 15 for her, though by that time I had several applications for it. I am waiting now to welcome her to Wayland Hall.” Miss Remson made an odd little pause.

“We shall all be ready to do the same.” Leila spoke in a peculiarly significant tone; as though she was understanding something which the others did not. Her bright blue eyes were fastened squarely upon Marjorie. They seemed to be trying to communicate a message to her.

In a sudden illuminating flash Marjorie understood the import of Miss Remson’s remarks concerning the mysterious student who was to have Room 15.

“Oh, Miss Remson!” she breathed, her face breaking into a radiance of sunshine. Involuntarily her eyes strayed from Leila to Leslie. The latter was paying polite attention to Miss Remson though Marjorie divined instantly that Leslie had not comprehended a special meaning in the manager’s speech.

“Will you come to the Hall, Leslie?” The little manager had turned now to Leslie, her thin pleasant face brimming with kindliness. “I should like you to have 15. I have been saving it for you since Marjorie told me you were to come back to Hamilton for your senior year.”

“Why—I—” Leslie stammered. “Oh, I never thought of such a thing!” she exclaimed with bewildered gratitude. “It’s wonderful in you to wish me to come back after the way I treated you. I’d love to, but I can’t accept. It wouldn’t be right.” Tears crowded to her eyes. She clenched her hands and made a desperate effort at self-control.

“Now, now, now!” Up went one of Miss Remson’s hands, arrestingly. “Never mind anything but the present, child. I wish you to have 15. That settles the matter. I must tell the girls a little more about your letter. Leslie wrote me last June, children, such a splendid letter.”

“Hurrah, hurrah!” Vera had raised a subdued cheer. “Hurrah for our new Traveler in 15.” She started the hurrahing with the kindly object of giving Leslie an opportunity to control a threatened burst of tears. The others took up the cheering with moderated vigor.

“Please don’t credit me with anything splendid, Miss Remson.” Leslie forced tremulousness from her enunciation. “You girls understand me when I say that I couldn’t have done differently, and feel right.” She made a slight gesture of appeal toward the circle of faces approvingly turned upon her. “I might have known Miss Remson would tell you in the nicest way toward me. I meant to tell you all myself someday.” She bent a half rueful glance of affection upon the little woman beside her.

“Ah, but you have not told us something else which we think you should.” Leila had risen from the cushion on which she had been sitting. She came up to Leslie, hand extended. “Will you not accept the hand of fellowship and say: ‘Thank you kindly, Irish Leila, it is myself that will be moving my trunks to Wayland Hall and be settling down in 15.’”

Leila’s inimitable touch of brogue was irresistible to Leslie. She began to laugh. The two who had once been implacable enemies gripped hands with a friendly strength and fervor. It was a silent acknowledgment that, for them, there could be nothing in future less than devoted friendship. The deep-rooted disapproval of Leslie which Leila had not been able to conquer until within that very hour vanished never to return.

It was the signal for the others to press about Leslie, shaking her hand, each one adding some pleasant plea for her return to the Hall. Marjorie was last of the group to clasp hands with Leslie. She merely said, as she regarded the other girl with a bright, winsome smile: “Won’t you please take 15, Leslie?”

“Yes.” Leslie’s tone was steady now. “How can I do otherwise? Not only because all of you wish me to do it. It’s best for me, though it may be the hard way for a while. You understand what I mean.”

“Yes. We all understand. We know what you wish most. You can make a stronger fight for it at the Hall than if you were to live off the campus. We’ll all stand by you.” Marjorie had taken Leslie’s other hand. The two girls faced each other, staunch comradeship in the pose.

“I’ll stand by myself.” Leslie’s characteristic independent spirit, obscured by emotion, flashed forth. “Not that I shan’t like to remember that I’ve true pals ready to fight for me. But it’s this way. Once I did a great deal of lawless damage on the campus. Now it’s up to me to repair it, and stand all criticisms while I’m at the repairing job.”