“I had a little trouble with the Sans this afternoon,” Marjorie quietly informed her chums as they began their dessert. She had waited until this moment rather than distract their attention from the substantial part of the dinner. “I wish you would come to Jerry’s and my room after we leave the dining room. You ought to know of it before we meet the rest of the students in the living room. I hope those Sans will all be there.” Into her eyes leaped stern resentment of the afternoon’s insults.
“Miss Remson thinks they will all be on hand,” Muriel replied. “Oh, won’t I enjoy watching their faces when they hear why she called them together!”
“They may turn on you Ronny, and me, too,” warned Marjorie. “If they do, don’t give way a particle to them.”
Ronny smiled on Marjorie in the rare wonderful fashion she so loved. “You don’t know what a good fighter I am,” she returned. “Wait until you see my defenses.”
There was no sign of a smile on Ronny’s face when she listened with the others to Marjorie’s recital of the Sans ill-bred act of the afternoon. Her face registered an austerity which gave her the expression of an offended deity. Jerry and Muriel sputtered angrily over it and Lucy’s green eyes gleamed threateningly enough to promise any of the offenders, who chanced to meet their concentrated stare, an uncomfortable moment.
“It is five minutes to eight.” Jerry pointed to the clock. “Let’s go down. On where victory points the way!” she declaimed humorously.
“And it will be victory,” said Veronica, with a sureness of tone that was vastly comforting to Marjorie.
She walked down the stairs and into the living room with Veronica. Lucy, Muriel, Katherine Langly and Jerry were directly in their wake. Chairs from the dining room had been brought into the living room and placed in regular rows facing the west wall. These chairs were already occupied by the house students. Of the thirty-six girls who lived at Wayland Hall, the Lookouts and Katherine were the last to enter. At the west end of the room were three chairs. Miss Remson occupied one. She was talking busily to a dark-haired, fine-featured woman who sat in the chair next to her own. The third chair was still vacant. Five of the six girls seated themselves on a large oak bench at the back of the room, which was still vacant on their arrival. Ronny walked serenely up the improvised side aisle to where Miss Remson and her guest were seated. Very demurely she slipped into the vacant chair.
A united gasp arose from four of the occupants of the oak bench as their eyes lighted upon Miss Remson’s guest. A great wave of unexpected joy swept over Marjorie. She realized how much the presence of that beloved guest meant to her. She felt Lucy’s hand slip into hers. The two girls clasped hands in an expression of silent thankfulness and rejoicing.
Conversation died out as Miss Remson rose to address the assemblage. Aside from Vera, Leila, Katherine and the Lookouts, no one present had an inkling of Miss Remson’s purpose in calling them together.