The appearance of Leslie Cairns the next week at Wayland Hall, followed by her trunk, temporarily drove Julia Peyton’s club ambitions far afield. To discover that Leslie, to whom Julia liked to refer in shocked tones to others as “that terrible Miss Cairns,” was to become a resident once more of Wayland Hall filled her with spiteful amazement and speculation.

“How do you suppose she ever got in here?” was the question she most frequently addressed to Clara Carter during the first two days following Leslie’s return to the Hall. Neither she nor Clara had been able to glean any information in the matter from other students at the Hall. Wayland Hall was filling up rapidly. The upper classmen were busy arranging their programs and looking up their friends. The entering freshmen at the Hall were busy either with entrance examinations or unpacking and straightening their belongings.

To add to Julia’s disgruntlement, Doris Monroe had been back at the Hall almost a week, yet not once had she noticed either Julia or Clara except by the distant courtesy of a bow or salutation whenever she chanced to encounter her two treacherous classmates.

Doris was far too greatly delighted with the way matters had shaped themselves for Leslie to think much of anything else. Of all the girls Leslie had known in her lawless days Doris had been the only one who had liked her for herself. From the day of Leslie’s reconciliation with her father Doris and Leslie had continued their growing friendship on an even better basis than before. At last, each of the two girls knew the joy of claiming a real “pal.”

Muriel had generously offered to release Doris from rooming with her, thus leaving her free to room in 15 with Leslie. Not only did Doris refuse to take advantage of the offer, Leslie herself would not hear to it. “Stay where you are,” she had laughingly ordered Doris. “I’ll hang around with both of you.” Secretly she courted the prospect of Muriel’s enlivening company as a third in the chumship. More than once in the old days she had reluctantly admired “Harding’s nerve.”

When, in the course of a week, Julia learned that Leslie Cairns had re-entered Hamilton College as a member of the senior class her surprise at the news was soon superceded by a resentful desire to oust Leslie from Wayland Hall. Her jealous, vengeful disposition was an inheritance from her father, who bore the title of “Wolf Peyton” among Wall Street brokers where his offices were situated. Added to this grave flaw of character was her paramount will to gossip which had developed in her as a result of being the youngest child among three grown-up married sisters who were prone to gossip freely in her presence about friends and acquaintances.

For two weeks succeeding Leslie’s advent at Wayland Hall, Julia racked her brain for a plan of malicious procedure which she might turn against Leslie. She consulted long and darkly with Clara Carter, whose ideas were not more feasible than her own.

“There’s only one way to force Miss Remson to take action against Miss Cairns,” she declared moodily to Clara one evening after dinner as the two sat down opposite each other at their study table.

“What’s that?” Clara closed the Horace she had just opened and fixed expectant eyes upon Julia.

“Start a petition against having Miss Cairns in the house and then get the majority of students here to sign it. There’s only one trouble. We need something specially definite to charge her with.”

“Well, what about the Rustic Romp?” Clara instantly suggested.

“That doesn’t amount to much.” Julia shrugged scornfully. “Besides Miss Dean and Doris would fight for her if I started that story again. I don’t care to have them interfering in this business. I’ll have to be careful. I shall expect you to nominate me for president of our new club. I’ll nominate you in return for vice-president. Caroline Phelps has promised to propose my name for class president. I’m letting her use my new car, you know. She ought to do something for me. However, that’s not to the point about Miss Cairns. What I’d like to find out is just why she was expelled from Hamilton College.”

“I thought you knew!” Clara opened innocent eyes. Here was an opportunity to nettle Julia. She seized it with avidity. “Why, it was for hazing. How strange that you——”

“You may think you are telling me something, but you are not.” Julia grew emphatically rude. “I knew before ever you knew that it was for hazing. They say she and a crowd of girls, called the Sans Soucians Club, hazed Miss Dean. Did you know that?” she inquired, loftily incredulous.

“Of course I knew it. You told me that yourself, long ago.”

“Oh.” Julia showed a slightly crestfallen air. “It doesn’t interest me,” she continued after a moment. “I’ve heard that she would have been expelled long before that hazing affair if it hadn’t been for her father’s millions. What are some of the other things she did that might warrant expulsion here? That’s what I should like to know. It’s what I’m going to find out. She made trouble between Doris and me. Doris only speaks to me when she can’t avoid speaking. I’ll never forgive Leslie Cairns for that.” Julia’s voice rose angrily.

“Sh-h-h. You are talking loudly.” Clara held up a warning hand. “Someone passing through the hall might hear you.”

Julia frowned, but discreetly lowered her voice. “If I can learn just one very dishonorable thing she did before she was expelled I can start the petition and carry it out. Most of the girls here are juniors, and will be on our side. You see last year Doris and Augusta Forbes were at swords’ points at class election. Doris made a great mistake when she buried the hatchet after class election and was nice to Miss Forbes. The girls who rooted for her, and against Miss Forbes, are not going to forget in a hurry the way Doris went back on them. Now she is crazy about Miss Harper and Miss Dean and that provoking Miss Harding. She always looks as though she’d like to laugh in my face every time I happen to meet her on the campus, or in the house.”

“I can’t endure her.” Clara was willing to agree with Julia regarding Muriel. More than once she had vaguely detected a furtive, laughing gleam in Muriel’s velvety brown eyes when they had chanced to meet. “I’d love to be vice-president of our club. I’d not care to be president. You would make a better president than I—probably.” She could not resist delivering this one tiny thrust.

“Naturally. I have more initiative than you.” Julia retorted complacently. “I am more competent to manage a club than you would be. But you generally work very nicely with me,” she allowed with condescension.

“I always try to, unless you are too provoking,” Clara flung back. “How many girls at the Hall do you believe we can count upon already? I’ll write down their names in the back of my note book.” She was determined to show herself as extremely useful to Julia’s scheme.

“Very well.” Julia raised dignified brows. “First put down the name of Miss Ferguson and Miss Waters, those two freshies in 17. They are dandy girls. I’m rather glad now that I didn’t make a fuss about the noise in 15 that night before college opened. Miss Ferguson has told me since I met her that she heard it but was too good a sport to make a fuss. She said she detested a fusser, a dig, a prig or a wet blanket. When she was at Davidson Prep she said she used to cut classes and stay out after ten-thirty. Once she and another girl went to a dinner dance in New York without permission.” Julia forgot dignity and grew animated. “Davidson is only a few miles from New York. They had asked permission of the registrar and she had refused them. They went just the same, came back at noon the next day and not a soul except the girls in the next room to them knew they were away. Wasn’t that cunning?”

“Rash, I should say. I imagine I might like Miss Waters better than Miss Ferguson. She’s not so swanky and flapperish.”

“Go ahead then, and be nice to her. It will help our cause along,” Julia advised with simulated heartiness. She craftily avoided arguing with Clara. Her disagreement with Doris of the previous spring had taught her at least one virtue. She could accomplish more by craftiness than by belligerency. She was doggedly determined upon one point—the utter humiliation of Leslie Cairns.

As maliciously as Leslie Cairns had once planned to humiliate Marjorie Dean, just as strongly Julia Peyton was now arrayed against Leslie Cairns.