In the dining-room at Wayland Hall that evening plenty of curious and speculative glances were cast at the round dozen of Hamilton’s staunchest children as they made merry at a special table which Miss Remson had provided for them.
From the next table to theirs the five Bertram girls exchanged occasional laughing signals and remarks with the distinguished little group of post graduates, seniors and one member of the faculty, the youngest though she happened to be. Aside from the warm friendliness of Gussie Forbes and her four chums there emanated from the other table of girls a peculiarly chilling atmosphere. It hinted of displeasure; a displeasure which stopped just this side of hostility.
“The sophs and freshies in the house can’t see us for a minute,” Jerry said to Leila in an undertone as they were awaiting the serving of the dessert. “Feel the chill. Get me?”
“Tell me nothing.” Leila cast a grim glance about the dining-room. Suddenly her grimness vanished into a characteristic flash of white teeth which always signified her utter amusement. “It is the Battle of Wayland Hall we shall be fighting before spring with a number of distinguished P. G. generals in the thick of the fray. It is the sophs who are ready now to roar at us. The freshies here will but echo the sophs’ roars.”
“Wayland Hall has been a regular hot-bed of trouble since the soph president was elected.” Jerry used the same guarded tones. “With Gus and the disappointed Ice Queen under the same roof can you wonder?”
“I cannot.” Leila’s shrug was eloquent. “I have not been so completely disgusted with a set of girls since the bad days of the Sans.”
“Bad days of the Sans?” Vera, seated at Leila’s left, had caught the Irish girl’s words. She now repeated them inquiringly. “What tales of ancient history am I hearing?”
“Ancient history that is trying to repeat itself,” Leila returned with dry sarcasm. “I have been muttering in Jeremiah’s ear that we are not favorites at the Hall.”
“It’s a case of top-lofty sophs and freshie-fresh freshmen.” Vera gave a wise nod. “The traditional meek and lowly freshie is rapidly becoming an almost extinct species.”
“So it would appear this year,” Jerry agreed with an appraising survey of the long dining-room. Her glance rested for a moment on Doris Monroe, then traveled on to the students who sat at table with her.