“Do you drive your own car?” calmly pursued Miss Ogden.
“Yes.” Leila’s vague sense of irritation at the inquisitive newcomer disappeared in a wild desire toward laughter. The confident assurance of this newest stranger within the gates of Hamilton challenged her ever ready sense of humor.
“We’ll have to draw lots to see with which of us Miss Ogden will ride,” Vera said gaily. To Miss Ogden she said: “We three drove to the station in separate cars. We expected to meet a crowd of twelve freshmen who were due to arrive here on the five-fifty express. They certainly failed to arrive.” She waved a significant hand at the station platform, deserted now of persons other than themselves and two or three station employes, methodically going about their business.
“Twelve freshmen. Mm-m-m. Where were they to come from?”
“Ten of them from New York, or near New York; two from Philadelphia,” Leila patiently informed.
“Let’s move on.” Leslie had possessed herself of the freshman’s other bag. She spoke with a touch of impatience. “Too bad the freshies didn’t arrive. Miss Remson will be disappointed. She——”
“Is Miss Remson the registrar?” quizzed Miss Ogden.
“No-o.” Leslie could not repress a chuckle.
“Why do you laugh?” The freshman’s tone was decidedly nettled.
“I beg your pardon,” Leslie apologized. “If you knew Miss Remson as we do you would comprehend the joke. She is the manager of Wayland Hall, and——”