“Get me? What do you mean?” Jacquette protested. “That’s Margaret Howland—a darling girl I knew in Brookdale, three years ago.”
“The mischief you did! She’s one of the strongest workers in Kappa Delta, and you mustn’t have a thing to do with her at this stage of the game, or you’ll lose all your chances with the Sigma Pi girls. Now, mind, Jack, you’re new here. I know the ground and you won’t be sorry if you take my advice. My frat is Beta Sigma, the best in school—hardest to get into, finest frat house, highest dues, and all that. The only sorority that ranks with it is Sigma Pi Epsilon. I want you to have the best. Understand?” And, as he ended, he handed her over to Louise Markham, whose laugh had rippled out gaily when she saw them coming.
“I’ll not let her get away again,” she told Marquis, her dark eyes twinkling as she put one arm around Jacquette. “We love her too much, already, to trust her in the enemy’s camp.”
“Indeed we do!” chorussed half a dozen girls, gathering about, and, before she realised what was happening, Jacquette had been bewitched into forgetting all about Margaret.
The morning passed, and when the noon hour came, the girls adjourned to the Sigma Pi spread. It was given at Etta Brainerd’s house, and Jacquette found that it meant sandwiches and salads, hot chocolate, olives, cake, ice-cream and candy, all served picnic fashion, with sorority songs, and laughter and chatter. When the party dispersed, late in the afternoon, some one whispered to Jacquette that she was to stay, and, as soon as the other guests had gone, the Sigma Pi girls gathered about and told her that they had decided to ask her to join their sorority.
Then Louise Markham, who had completely won Jacquette’s heart, walked home with her to tell Quis what a success she had been with the girls, and to charge him that he must help her with an important letter which she was to write to her Aunt Sula that evening.
Accordingly, after dinner, Marquis and Jacquette retired to the library for consultation.
Jacquette took up a pen. “Tia Mia,” were the first words she wrote.
“What’s that?” Quis demanded, looking over her shoulder.
“Tee-ah mee-ah,” pronounced Jacquette. “It’s Spanish for ‘my aunt.’ We found it in a book, and I thought it was cunning; so ‘Tia’ has been my pet name for Aunt Sula ever since.”