Vera was now bringing the roadster to a stop before the Ivy.

“Hello, old stand-by!” Marjorie raised a cheerful hand of greeting toward the familiar, one-story white stucco building. Its ornamental bungalow effect was made even more attractive by the traits of English ivy which wandered across the front of the shop and were trained above the door and the narrow-paned windows.

“Not another car parked here; glorious! This is a positive streak of luck!” congratulated Vera.

“The Ivy is popular with tourists this summer,” Leila informed Marjorie and Robin as the girls sauntered up the wide white stone walk four abreast. “This is the first time since we came back that we have been able to park in front of the shop.”

Entering the tea room they steered a straight course for one of four alcove tables. During the college year these tables were difficult to secure unless engaged beforehand. All four stood empty now. A brief lull in the mid-afternoon business of the Ivy had found the prosperous shop temporarily deserted.

“Who ever before saw an alcove table at the Ivy empty?” commented Robin as the chums seated themselves.

“It’s almost as still here today as in chapel after Prexy has read out an amazing notice,” declared Vera lightly.

“Observe how soon that chapel-like atmosphere will depart. We are here,” Leila reminded.

“No; this beatific state of sweet silence is due to be shattered this very minute,” Robin agreed.

“Right you are, Robin. It’s a grand palaver we’re about to have. Let us order the luncheon before the gabble party begins,” proposed Leila. “Consomme, chicken À la king, potato straws, cucumber salad and whatever your sweet tooth demands for dessert? Yes?” She turned inquiring eyes on her friends. “And a pot of tea, of course?”

“It suits me. I wish I were going to eat that dandy luncheon this minute. I’m so hungry,” sighed Marjorie.

Vera and Robin echoed Marjorie’s wish. The waitress obligingly promised to hurry the consommÉ to the hungry quartette and retired briskly kitchen-ward.

“Now who is going to start the gabble ball rolling?” playfully demanded Vera.

“You and Leila. Tell us about the campus.” Marjorie and Robin answered in the same words, and together. They both laughed. “One heart, one mind,” Robin quoted.

“It’s the same dear, green old stamping ground,” Vera answered with proud fondness. “Only it almost gives one the blues to walk from one end of it to another without seeing any of one’s pals. Now for news. Let me see. Kathie is coaching four would-be-freshies who are staying at Acasia House. They’re in for entrance exams. Miss Remson has been away for a month, but she came back to the Hall the day Leila and I put in an appearance there. I sha’n’t tell you a thing about Miss Remson’s vacation trip. She wants to tell you herself. She said so.”

“What an odd busy little woman she is.” Robin smiled at mention of the brisk little manager of Wayland Hall. “I love her funny abrupt ways. She is so original.”

“Jerry named her Busy Buzzy almost as soon as she first saw her when we went to Wayland Hall as freshies,” reminisced Marjorie. “Muriel was quite fascinated by the name and those two villains went on calling Miss Remson Busy Buzzy behind her back for a long while. I was always afraid she might hear them say it, but thank goodness she never did. Muriel used to call Hortense Barlow, her roommate, Mortense. She and Jerry had the naming habit very hard that year.”

Muriel’s name brought a grin to Leila’s face. “That rascal,” she said with a chuckle. “What might she be doing these fine summer days? Is she coming back to college, Beauty? When we asked her last June about it she would tell us nothing. All she would offer was: ‘I can’t say. I’ll have to think it over.’”

“She’s still saying it,” Marjorie echoed the chuckle. “She won’t tell even Jerry and me what she intends to do about coming back. Jerry says she is only trying to tease us, but I think she has a reason for saying she is uncertain about it. She’ll tell us when she is ready and not a minute before. Muriel has always been just so.”

“I’ll tell you all a bit of news,” put in Robin. “Elaine is going to be married. Her engagement will be announced next month. She is——”

Three voices rippled an astonished “Oh-h-h.” Three faces reflected the smile with which Robin had announced the news. Elaine Hunter, during her four years at Hamilton, had been the most popular girl at Silverton Hall.

“Who is Elaine going to marry, Robin?” asked Vera interestedly. “He’ll have to be a wonder to be worthy of her.”

“A delightful young civil engineer. His name is Kingdon Barrett. It is a real romance,” Robin went on eagerly. “When Elaine was a tiny girl and this Mr. Barrett a small boy they used to go to the same beach every summer with their parents. They played together on the sand and were good friends. Then the Barretts went West and Elaine never saw her boy playmate again until Commencement. He was visiting Prexy’s son and saw her name on the Commencement program. He actually picked her out among the graduates. The moment he had a chance he had Prexy Matthews, who knows her family well, introduce him to her. He told her who he was. They promptly fell in love and now they’re engaged. Can you beat that?” Robin spread open both hands in a challenging gesture.

“We can not. Nor is it likely that we shall try. I have no wish to fall in love, for isn’t it true that I might never be able to fall out again? It is a pit that I shall keep my feet well away from,” declared Leila with unsentimental wisdom.

“I can’t imagine you in love, you ridiculous girl,” Vera’s infectious giggle went the round of the table.

“Ah, if I were; and what a fine frenzy I should be in. Like this,” Leila rolled her eyes, put on a lovelorn expression and struck her hand to her forehead with tragic force. She immediately rubbed her hand. “Arrah, but I have a hard forehead,” she remarked ruefully.

The return of the waitress with the consomme put a momentary check on the animated rolling of what Vera had whimsically called the “gabble ball.” The instant the hungry girls began their soup they resumed conversation. While Leila and Vera had many news items germane to the campus to relate, none of them were of moment. Robin had much concerning herself and Phylis Moore, her cousin, now a senior, to tell. Marjorie’s news centered on Jerry’s, Lucy’s, Muriel’s and her own doings during vacation. Of Ronny she had almost no news to relate. She had received but one letter from her since Ronny had sped West to her beautiful ranch home in California. The news of Elaine Hunter’s engagement was, thus far, the banner surprise.

“Oh, girls, have you seen Miss Susanna since you came?” was Marjorie’s concerned question, as the four lingered over the dessert of maple mousse and petit fours. “I’ve been trying to ask you that question from the first, and haven’t.”

“Now what makes you think we have seen her?” countered Leila with an elaborately innocent air.

“That means you have,” Marjorie translated, “and you,” she pointed an accusing finger at Leila, “and you,” the finger moved on to Vera, “are trying to keep something from me. I know you’re not guilty, Robin. You look innocent. But this pair look suspicious; oh, very suspicious.”

“Now, Beauty, on your honor, do I look as though there was anything I could refuse to tell you, provided I knew it?” ingratiated Leila, her bright blue eyes a-twinkle. She appeared to be wrestling with a secret mirth which threatened to overrun her mischievous face. She now made mysterious signs to Vera whose smiles were also in evidence.

“You look too tantalizing for words. So does Vera. Oh, I know you both!”

“So you take us for a precious pair of rogues; eh, Beauty!” Leila made a smiling failure of trying to appear reproachful. “Never mind. Midget and Leila forgive you. Bring forth the mystic writing, Midget. May Beauty’s bad opinion of us fly away on swift wings!”