"Oh, certainly. My name is Elizabeth Walbert." As she spoke her restless eyes began an appraisement of the group of girls whom Marjorie had addressed.
"Miss Walbert, this is Miss Mason, Miss Lynne, Miss Harper——" Marjorie presented her friends in turn to the newcomer, then said: "Please make Miss Walbert feel at home among us, while I greet our famous juniors."
"Oh, we knew you wouldn't forget your little friends," laughed Selma, "particularly the Swedish dwarf." Selma, who stood five feet nine, had bestowed this name upon herself, she being the tallest of the four girls who had chummed together since their enrollment at Hamilton.
Having warmly welcomed the trio, Marjorie realized Jerry was missing. She glanced quickly up and down the platform in search of her. She finally spied her coming down the platform with a plainly-dressed girl whose pale face, under a brown sailor hat, bore the unmistakable stamp of the student. In one hand she carried a small black utility bag of very shiny material. The other hand grasped the handle of a large straw suitcase. Jerry carried the mate to it. Her plump face registered nothing but polite attention to what her companion was saying. She was marching her freshman along, however, at a fair rate of speed. Not so far to their rear the Sans had detrained. Their high-pitched talk and laughter could be heard the length of the platform, as they gathered up their luggage and prepared to march on Hamilton. Jerry proposed to be safely in the bosom of her friends with her find before that march began.
"Come along, children. Let's be going. The choo-choo cars are getting ready to choo-choo right along to the next station. Look as I may, I see no more arriving freshies—except the one Jeremiah is now towing toward us." Leila added this as she saw Jerry. "We'll delay our going in honor of the freshie."
Next instant Jerry had joined them and was introducing Miss Towne, of Omaha, Nebraska, as the stranger had shyly declared herself. Amidst the crowd of dainty, white-gowned girls, she looked not unlike a dingy little brown wren. Miss Walbert eyed her with growing disapproval and gave her a perfunctory nod of the head. Immediately she turned her attention to the on-coming Sans whom she had already noticed. Her face brightened visibly as she watched them. While she had reluctantly decided that her new acquaintances were as well dressed as she, and carried themselves as though of social importance, their kindly reception of a girl who was clearly a dig and a nobody displeased her. The very manner in which the other group of girls were advancing made strong appeal to her. They were more the type she had known at Welden.
Marjorie felt an imperative tug at her arm. "Who are those girls? They came from that private car. They are so much like my dear pals at Welden." Elizabeth Walbert's babyish features were alive with animation.
"They are juniors. I have met a few of them. I can't really say that I have an acquaintance with any of them." Marjorie could think of nothing else to say of the Sans. She did not care to go into detail regarding them.
"We go down those steps over there to reach the yard where two of my friends have parked their cars," she continued, with intended change of subject. Her companions were already moving toward the flight of stone steps. Miss Walbert still stood watching the approaching company of smartly-dressed girls.
"Pardon me. What did you say?" The absorbed freshman spoke without looking at Marjorie. "I think I have met one or two of those girls. Summer before last, at Newport, I met a Miss Myers and a Miss Stephens. We had quite a lot of fun together one afternoon at a tennis tournament. Yes, I am sure those are the same girls. I met them afterward at a dinner dance."