“That chairman is a peach,” warmly praised Jerry. “Who is she? I shall lunch her at Baretti’s tomorrow. See if I don’t.”
“She is Miss Hopkins, and she is splendid.” Gussie drew a long breath. “The soph who made all the fuss is Miss Walker. She and a pal of hers, Miss Johnson, were chummy with Alma Hurst and Ida Weir.”
“It isn’t right that such untruthful gossip should be spread about you, Gussie,” was Marjorie’s indignant cry. “The best way to down it is to show the sophs what a fine president you can be. I know you will.”
“I—I said I would resign,” Gussie confessed. “Miss Hopkins said she didn’t blame me. She gave me a queer look when she said it as though she wished I wouldn’t. My party hadn’t heard much of the talk between Miss Walker and Miss Hopkins for Miss Walker was sitting on a front seat. They only knew it was some kind of kick about me. They began to cheer me and the other sophs began to hiss. My party raked them down. I was sitting near the front, too, with Floss and Calista. All of a sudden Miss Hopkins walked up to me and said: ‘Please don’t resign, Miss Forbes. The committee believe in you. I know you’ll stand by us.’ I couldn’t resign after that.” Gussie avowed with rueful emphasis.
“Your a real gentleman of the old school,” Ronny approved. “Allow me to escort you to a blow-out at Baretti’s. There is no time like the present. I’m going to gather in the Bertramites. Muriel, go gather in Leila and Vera. Tear them from the dining room table, if necessary.”
“Slave, do my bidding,” mocked Muriel as she bounced obediently from the room.
Veronica skipped lightly after her. She found the four Bertramites in Gussie’s room, solemnly wondering where poor old Gus had hidden herself. Two minutes’ explanation and the four girls were crossing the hall to Ronny’s room, a hurrying quartette.
Muriel luckily caught Leila and Vera just outside the dining room.
“I know of no one more accommodating than myself, except Midget,” was Leila’s characteristic acceptance of the invitation. “Are we not noble to wait another hour for dinner when we are starving?”
“Noble isn’t the word,” Muriel returned effusively.