The Travelers had paused by common consent at the foot of the steps eagerly watching the nearing automobile.
“Good night!” broke from Jerry in a subdued, disgusted voice as she glimpsed the occupants of the taxicab through the now opened doorway of the machine. It had stopped on the graveled square before the house and the driver had sprung from his seat to open the rear door of the machine for his fares.
The expressions on both Marjorie’s and Jerry’s faces were unconscious indexes of their disappointment. Marjorie had been fondly hoping to see Augusta Forbes’ tall graceful figure and handsome features emerge from the taxicab. Jerry knew that Muriel was most anxious for the return to the Hall of her roommate, Doris Monroe. To see moon-eyed Julia Peyton poke her head suspiciously out of the door of the machine had inspired Jerry with deep disgust.
The tall squarely-built figure of the sophomore who had stirred up so much trouble during the previous year followed the peering, pasty-white face and large round black eyes with their owl-like stare. Julia Peyton straightened, at the same time casting a darting glance at the group of girls near the steps. She drew her black brows together frowningly at sight of the quintette. With no sign of recognition she turned her back belligerently upon them and devoted herself to paying the driver.
Her companion of the taxicab, a short plump girl with a disagreeable face and bright red hair, emulated Julia’s example, her nose elevated to a haughty angle.
With the air of a grenadier, Julia picked up a leather bag which she had set down on the graveled space while she paid the driver. She stalked toward the steps across the small graveled interval, her black eyes fastened upon the front doorway of the Hall.
“Good afternoon Miss Peyton,” Marjorie greeted composedly as the haughty arrival passed the group. “Good afternoon, Miss Carter.”
A combined murmur of greeting arose from the other four Travelers who were quick to follow Marjorie’s lead.
Neither by word nor sign did Julia Peyton indicate that she was aware of the courteous salutation. Her chum and roommate, Clara Carter, imitated Julia in the discourtesy. The pair went grandly up the steps and to the door where Julia pressed a finger to the electric bell. Without waiting for a maid she flung open the screen door and stepped into the reception hall with Clara at her heels.
“A bad beginning makes a good ending. So ’tis said,” Phil Moore commented with cheerful satire as the unsociable pair of arrivals disappeared into the house.