“Then there is no certainty as to when the busses will begin running again,” Marjorie said, brows contracted in a reflective little frown. “What ought we to do, Signor Baretti?” She glanced appealingly at the little man.
“Ah, that is the way I like! I am the one to help you. It is already done. Tomorrow you see the busses run to the campus again with the dorm girls.” Baretti made this promise almost gleefully.
“Tomorrow!” two voices rose simultaneously.
“Yes-s.” Baretti surveyed the amazed firm of Page and Dean with his broadest, most beaming smile. “This morning I have go to Sabani. Aa-h-h, but we have the fight; but not with the hand.” He doubled a fist and shook his hand. “It was the fight talk. I scare him; make him think I know all he say to Miss Car-rins; all she say him. Then I tell him I will go to the mayor of Hamilton an’ tell the mayor what he have done. The mayor will take away his license for the bus line. ‘I make you many troubles, for you deserve, you don’t run the busses to the campus tomorrow.’ After while he say he will do it. He say Miss Car-rins tell him it was the joke she want play on the dorm girls. I say him it is the poor joke, but not so bad as the joke I will play on him if he don’ run the busses to the campus tomorrow.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
AN EVIL INSPIRATION
Due to the heavy rain storm on Thanksgiving Day, Leslie Cairns’ plans had gone considerably “aglee.” To parade the Dazzler, the white car she had loaned Doris, with Doris in it and clothed in expensive white furry finery, had been an impossibility. In consequence a very much disgruntled Leslie Cairns had telephoned Doris that “it was all off” and to meet her instead at the Colonial at two o’clock.
Before the two girls had reached their Thanksgiving dessert they had come perilously near quarreling. Leslie was in bad humor because of the inclement weather. She had the fierce hatred of being disappointed common to utterly selfish persons. The news that Doris would grace the hop on the Saturday evening following Thanksgiving Day and take charge at the door of the admission fee to the frolic had not pleased Leslie.
“You should have known better than to take that job, even though it does give you a chance to show off your looks,” she had upbraided Doris in a surly tone. “You say you can’t endure Bean and her crowd. Then—bing!—you whirl about and let them make a silly of you. Page is Bean’s partner and one of the celebrated Beanstalks. That didn’t hinder you from being as sweet as cream to Page and saying, ‘yes,’ in a hurry when she asked you to be a little pet donkey and collect the fees at the hop.”
“Leslie!” Doris had said in a low, furious voice, “you shall not talk to me in that tone, or call me a donkey. I won’t stand it. You are simply in a rage with everything and everybody today because things didn’t go to suit you. Besides, it was Miss Wenderblatt not Miss Page who asked me. You are rude and boorish.”