“Good luck attend you, Lieutenant Dean.” Miss Susanna watched the trim little figure across the room and through the open door.
Marjorie left the Arms and sped lightly down the wide stone walk to the gates. She was soon swinging along with her free buoyant stride through picturesque Hamilton Estates and toward the campus. For a little the tender beauty of the early September day caused her to forget her errand in fervent Nature worship. Overhead the sun’s golden gleams filtered down from skies of palest blue between snatches of drifting, snowy clouds. The sweeping lawns and gardens of the Estates were bright with scarlet sage, dahlias and early autumn flowers. Along the sides of the pike and in the fields grew goldenrod, daisies and purple asters in Nature’s own profusion. Here and there the foliage of a tree had been touched by magic fingers and turned from green to red and gold.
Marjorie greeted the emerald-hued campus with a fond smile and a soft: “You’re as splendid as ever, old friend.” She entered the east gates and followed the drive for a little way, then left it to travel straight across the broad green sweep toward President Matthews’ house which was situated at the extreme west side of the campus.
It was now almost a week since the initial band of Travelers had gathered at the Hall and Marjorie had then announced her determination to go to President Matthews in behalf of Leslie Cairns. She had been obliged to delay her call upon the President for the very good reason that he had not returned to Hamilton campus from the sea shore until Tuesday of that week. It was now Thursday. The next day, Friday, would see the return of Katherine Langly and Lillian Wenderblatt to the campus. There was to be a jolly celebration at the Arms on Friday evening in honor of them. In view of happiness so near at hand Marjorie was desirous of immediately putting Leslie’s case before the President and having the self-appointed interview with “Prexy” off her mind.
As she crossed the broad green, endeared by long familiarity to her feet, her gaze wandered from one to another of the campus houses. Her eyes brightened to see three girls seated on the steps of Craig Hall. At Acasia House a slim girl shape stood on the top step of the front veranda, waving an arm at an expressman coming up the walk with a heavy-looking trunk. In front of Silverton Hall three girls were emerging from a taxicab. Marjorie stopped to stare at them. No; they were not Phyllis Moore, Barbara Severn and Robin Page. She was not sure of their identity. She experienced a glad sense of happiness at the thought that the campus dwellers were gathering home again. The end of another week and Hamilton Campus would have again become its old delightful center of activity.
As she turned in at the gateway of the ornamental hedge which surrounded the president’s home, Marjorie’s buoyant interest in the campus receded and was replaced by the graver import of her errand. She hoped she would find the president alone. Perhaps Lucy would be there. Lucy had been working for him for the past two days.
“I shan’t mind if Lucy is there,” Marjorie was thinking as she neared the steps. Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast. She had a strong inclination to turn and run away. She did not dread the coming interview. What she did dread was the probable event of defeat.
CHAPTER X.
FOR LESLIE
Ringing the bell with a brave little air Marjorie waited. She recalled the first visit she had ever made to the president’s house. On that occasion she had been a messenger for Miss Humphrey the registrar. That had been long ago, in her sophomore year. Since that day, her first personal meeting with President Matthews, Marjorie had become a welcome visitor and guest at Prexy’s home. The maid, a stolid Swedish girl with pale gold hair and round blue eyes broke into smiles at sight of her.