CHAPTER XIII.
UNDER THE BIG ELM
“Am I awake, or dreaming? Did I come out of Hamilton Hall just now? If I did, what was it I heard Prexy say? Prexy.” Leslie Cairns repeated the name with tremulous satisfaction. “I’ve a right to say it now. Thanks to you, Marjorie Dean, I am back on the campus again. I’m going to cry, Marjorie. I was determined I wouldn’t before Prexy. I tried to take my pardon like a good soldier. But now I am thinking of my father. What will Peter the Great say?”
“I think Peter the Great will say, ‘Go to it, Cairns II., and be the happiest person I know.’” Marjorie assured, smiling her amusement of Leslie’s reference to her father as Peter the Great. “Come on over to the Bean holder, Leslie. We can sit there for awhile, and, if you must cry, no one will notice your weeps.”
Her arm tucked into one of Leslie Cairns’, Marjorie began steering her companion gently toward a great-trunked, towering elm tree some distance east of Hamilton Hall under which were two rustic benches.
“This is my favorite tree on the campus, Leslie,” Marjorie introduced her companion to the giant campus sentinel with a cheery wave of the hand. “You named me Bean, and the girls named this seat the Bean holder because I’ve always loved to come here.” All this with a view toward dispelling Leslie’s desire to cry.
That which Leslie had believed could never come to pass had happened. She and Marjorie Dean had just emerged from Hamilton Hall where she had gone with Marjorie a brief twenty minutes before to hear from President Matthews the amazing news of her re-instatement as a student at Hamilton College.
“That wretched name, Bean. It makes me laugh.” Leslie was half laughing, half crying. “It always made me laugh, even when I thought I hated you.”
“It’s a fine name. I’m awfully fond of it,” Marjorie assured with sunny good humor.
They made the rest of the short journey to the seat under the big elm in silence. Leslie continued to fight desperately against shedding tears. Marjorie was sympathetically leaving her to herself until she should recover her usual amount of poise.
“The view of the campus is beautiful from here,” Marjorie said as they seated themselves on one of the two benches drawn up near the tree. She looked off across the expanse of living green, worship of her old friend, the campus, in her wide brown eyes.