After two weeks of undiluted happiness at home, Marjorie’s return to Hamilton was a wrench, keenly felt by all immediately concerned. According to her own ideas it was like a plant; nicely rooted in one soil, only to be jerked up by the roots and transplanted. Once returned to Wayland Hall, it took her longer to settle down than at Thanksgiving. She had little spells of yearning for her father and mother which only time dimmed.
For a week following the return of the Five Travelers to Hamilton, they heard nothing of basket ball interests save that Miss Reid had still made no reply to the letter sent her. Another week passed, during which the fall term ended and two days of written tests ensued. Then came one day of vacation which was always given the students of Hamilton at the closing of a term. It was on the afternoon of this holiday that the freshman class, minus fourteen members, who had purposely been left out, met in the living room of Silverton Hall. It was a tight squeeze, but every one of the sixty-eight girls managed to crowd into the room. Portia Graham stood on a chair backed against the wall to address them. When she had finished speaking the room rang with cheers. She had advocated a committee to wait on Miss Reid and insist on fair treatment.
“In the event that Miss Reid refuses us justice, are you in favor of taking our grievance higher?” she questioned in purposeful tones.
“YES!” was the unanimous shout.
“Contrary?” she inquired sweetly, but there were no contrary members present.
“Are you satisfied with the choice of the following members as a committee? Their names are: Veronica Lynne, Marjorie Dean, Muriel Harding, Elaine Hunter, Mary Cornell, Portia Graham.”
Another resounding affirmative, followed by no dissenting voices, was immediately forthcoming.
“That settles it,” she declared grimly. “We will call on Miss Reid tomorrow evening at eight o’clock. For the benefit of any one not yet familiar with Hamilton, I will say that Miss Reid lives at Randolph House. If she is not in, we will make another call on the next evening. I ask you on your honor as freshmen of 19— not to speak of this to anyone after you leave here.”
At ten minutes to eight the next evening the committee met in front of Wayland Hall and proceeded across the campus toward the north to Randolph House which was devoted to faculty. They walked briskly along on the frozen lawn, almost in silence. Portia was to be spokesman, and she was mentally framing her remarks as she went. She was not in the least diffident when it came to facing Miss Reid, and she intended to drive home her point.
The assurance of the maid who answered their ring that Miss Reid was in, sent a queer little thrill over them all. Marjorie smiled to herself as she entered the reception room. This was not the first disagreeable call she had been obliged by duty to make.