“Certainly; we have oceans of time,” Leila agreed with alacrity. “The ten-thirty rule is still on a vacation and won’t be back for a week or so.”
“Oh, I haven’t told you about my new car,” Vera began with sudden inspiration. “Father bought it for me in August. It is a beauty. He is going to send James, his chauffeur, here with it. It may arrive tomorrow. I hope it does.” Vera launched into a description of her car with intent to kill time. Phyllis had set the hour for the serenade to the Lookouts at a quarter to nine.
“It will be good and dark then,” she had told Leila and Vera. “We will have to come as early as that, for we are going to Acasia House to serenade Barbara Severn, and to Alston Terrace to sing to Isabel Keller. Last, we are going to serenade Miss Humphrey. We’ll have to hustle, in order to go the rounds and get back to Silverton Hall before eleven o’clock. I depend on you, Leila, to keep that lively bunch of Sanfordites in until we get there.”
Leila, aided by Vera, was now endeavoring to carry out Phyllis’s request. She was privately hoping that the serenaders would be on time. Should they delay until nine or after, they were quite likely to gather in under the window of a deserted room.
Readers of the “Marjorie Dean High School Series” have long been in touch with Marjorie Dean and the friends of her high school days. “Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman,” recounted her advent into Sanford High School and what happened to her during her first year there. “Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore,” “Marjorie Dean, High School Junior,” and “Marjorie Dean, High School Senior,” completed a series of stories which dealt entirely with Marjorie’s four years’ course at Sanford High School. Admirers of the loyal-hearted, high-principled young girl, who became a power at high school because of her many fine qualities, will recall her ardent wish to enroll as a student at Hamilton College when she should have finished her high school days.
In “Marjorie Dean, College Freshman,” will be found the account of Marjorie’s doings as a freshman at Hamilton College. Entering college full of noble resolves and high ideals, she was not disappointed in her Alma Mater, although she was not long in discovering that an element of snobbery was abroad at Hamilton which was totally against Hamilton traditions. Aided by four of her Sanford chums, who had entered Hamilton College with her, and a number of freshmen and upper class girls, of democratic mind, the energetic band had endeavored to combat the pernicious influence, exercised by a clique of moneyed girls, which was fast taking hold upon other students. The end of the college year had found their efforts successful, in a measure, and the way paved for better things.
In “Marjorie Dean, College Sophomore,” the further account of Marjorie’s eventful college days was set forth. Opposed, from her return to Hamilton College by certain girls residing in the same house with herself, who disliked her independence and fair-mindedness, Marjorie was later given signal proof of their enmity. How she and her chums fought them on their own ground and won a notable victory over them formed a narrative of pleasing interest and lively action.
Now that the Five Travelers, as the quintette of Sanford girls loved to call themselves, were once more settled in the country of college, their devoted friends had already planned to honor them. Leila and Vera, who invariably returned early to college, had encountered Phyllis on the campus on the day previous. Informing her of the Lookouts’ expected arrival on the next afternoon, Phyllis had planned the serenade and demanded Leila’s help. Leila had rashly promised to keep the arrivals at home that evening. She was now of the opinion that a promise was sometimes easier made than fulfilled.
“Since Vera has told you everything she can remember about her new roadster, I shall now do a little talking myself.” Leila was having the utmost difficulty in controlling her risibles. She dared not look at Vera; nor dared Vera look at her. “Ahem! When I was in Ireland,” she pompously announced, “I saw——”
Came the welcome interruption for which she had been waiting. Clear and sweet under the windows of the room rose the strains of Tosti’s “Serenata.” A brief prelude and voices took it up, filling the evening air with harmony.