“This crowd of Miss Norris’s are doing their level best to upset the democratic peace of Wayland Hall,” Leslie said emphatically. “They can’t possibly win in the long run, but they can keep things here disagreeably stirred up, perhaps all year, unless their activities are nipped in the bud. Last year Muriel’s show turned the tide in my favor when Miss Ferguson and Dulcie Vale tried to down me. There was a greater number of girls in the Orchid Club, too. There are twelve of these freshies. One may safely count Mildred Ferguson in with them. Thirteen disturbers to vanquish. Go to it Cairns II. That’s how I feel about it. That’s what Peter the Great would say, if I told him my troubles.”
“You have the same determined spirit I can imagine Brooke Hamilton as having had,” Marjorie reached out, laying a warmly sympathetic hand upon one of Leslie’s. “If I were still living at the Hall as a P. G., you know I would fight shoulder to shoulder with you. But I’m not far away from you. Remember, if you need my help in any way, it shall be yours.”
“You certainly have some imagination.” Leslie indulged in one of her oddly silent laughs. “Thank you for the Brooke Hamilton bouquet, and I’ll know where to come running, if things begin to speed up too much for me.”
“Do you believe these freshies are interested in Hamilton as their Alma Mater?” Marjorie put the question after a meditative silence.
“No; not even a little bit. They’re of the present-moment flapper type, indifferent to everything but their own pleasure. They spend their recreation hours mostly in their cars. They’re not the sort to respond to friendly advances. They’ve been fairly pleasant with the other freshies here. Now that freshie class election is over—” Leslie’s shrug was indicative of her meaning.
“You and Leila are both so clever, Leslie, and you two practically control campus dramatics. If only you could win these girls over by offering them parts in the plays to be given at the Playhouse this winter. It might make them feel more in touch with Hamilton, and awaken in them a new spirit of college interest.” Marjorie’s suggestion rang with her own boundless enthusiasm toward Hamilton.
“Something like that,” Leslie nodded. “Frankly, Marjorie, that New York freshie crowd bores me silly. So does Jewel Marie, at times. But she’s of the people, all democrat underneath her ridiculous idea of caste. I can see where I’m going to run into trouble if I don’t watch my step while trying to win over a bunch of girls that she’s down on. Just the same, Mrs. Macy,” Leslie purposely took on Jerry’s matter-of-fact tone, “it will have to be done. Yes siree; it will have to be done, and it’s up to Cairns II to tackle it, and get away with it.”
CHAPTER XVIII
A SENTIMENTAL INTEREST
“And you say John Saxe doesn’t know who owns those Kenton Street properties. That’s strange.” Peter Cairns’ alert dark features registered a mixture of surprise and doubt. “He should know.”