“Your fairy-tale Princess and Leslie Cairns had a fuss at the Colonial today. They were together there when the three of us went into the place for ices.” Gussie said in matter-of-fact tones. “Miss Monroe was ripping mad. We heard her say that something wasn’t true, and that she wouldn’t be bullied. She was so angry she talked louder than she intended. I think she knew it for all in a minute she dropped her voice away down. I wanted to be the one to tell you about this, Marjorie, for a certain reason.” Her tone was flattering to Marjorie’s dignity.
“Speak, Gentleman Gus,” laughed Marjorie, amused by the very solemn expression of Gussie’s face.
“Just because Miss Monroe was opposed to me at class election is no sign that I should have any hard feeling toward her,” Gussie began. “I haven’t. I know you think she’s going to—to—well, be more congenial some day. She won’t be, though, if she keeps on associating with Miss Cairns. She’ll begin to break rules, too. First thing she knows she’ll do something serious and be expelled from Hamilton. I can’t forget how sweet she looked the other night at the hop. I thought, since she seemed to be peeved with Miss Cairns that maybe you could think of some way to link her to Hamilton. So she’ll like the campus better than she does Leslie Cairns.”
“I have thought of a way, Gussie,” Marjorie’s eyes sparkled. At last she had a supporter in the cause of the difficult fairy-tale princess.
“We ought to forget there is any such person,” Calista said. “After the way she reported us for being noisy on the day we got here. But you see what forgiving natures we have.” She gave a whimsical little shrug and smile.
“I decided to forget that she reported us,” came from Gussie magnanimously. “She’s awfully thorny and hard to approach. She doesn’t seem to care much for Miss Peyton and Miss Carter. They make great effort toward being chummy with her.”
“Leila knows I’d like to have a Beauty contest; the kind of one she got up when we were freshmen and she and Vera were sophs,” Marjorie told them animatedly. “If we had one—”
“Good old M. M. thinks the Ice Queen would win it. That would let M. M. out of being the college beauty—so she innocently schemes,” translated Jerry. “We’d still be privileged to our own opinion, Ahem.” She coughed suggestively. Next instant she had gone to the door in answer to a rapping on it.
“You’re just in time,” she greeted, stepping back to allow Leila to enter.
“In time for what, may I ask?” Leila’s bright blue eyes roved speculatively about the room.