“Until midnight!” had gasped one girl. “No, sir; not for me. Besides, you might cut her hand in the dark while trying to free her. You are crazy, Bess. Give up such daring schemes. They’ll only get you into trouble.”
“We might easily be seen, dressed in sheets,” another had objected. “Remember it is winter and there aren’t any leaves on those bushes.”
“That wouldn’t make any difference if the night were dark. I see plainly you girls aren’t nervy enough for a little fun that wouldn’t do the baby elephant any harm. In fact it would be the best thing that could happen to her. She has bragged a lot of not being afraid of anything. Never mind. I’ll think of some nice little plan, all by myself.”
This last icy assurance, delivered with a haughty crest of her empty head had not impressed her hearers. She had gone a step too far with them. From then on they began to drop away from her.
Disgusted with their lack of support, she undertook to interest certain juniors in her plan. She dared not come out frankly with it. Her vague allusions as to what might be done met with utter defeat. Her classmates, such as had even voted for her for the freshman presidency, knew her better now. They tolerated her but disliked her.
Finding no one interested in her schemes for revenge, she was none the less determined to haze Gussie. On the Sunday afternoon following the disaster to Miss Susanna, she called Leslie Cairns on the telephone and asked her to go for a ride. Leslie accepted the invitation cannily, stipulating that they should use her roadster. She was to meet Leslie in front of Baretti’s.
Since the first day of their meeting in the Ivy, Elizabeth had not dared mention the subject of Leslie’s expulsion from college. Leslie had talked of it a little herself that day. Then she had put up the bars. What Elizabeth burned to consult her on was what she might do to haze Augusta.
Anxious to keep Leslie in a good humor, she racked her brain for campus gossip that would interest the ex-senior.
“Go ahead. Let’s hear the news from the knowledge shop,” ordered Leslie as the roadster sped south under her practical hands. “Then I have a bit of news for you. Maybe you won’t like it for a second or two. After you get used to it, you will.”
“What is it? You tell me first. My scraps of news can wait.” Eager curiosity animated the junior’s vapid features.