“The less often, the better. If I hadn’t business of my own to attend to I’d go after Dulcie Vale’s scalp. Venomous little traitor!” A deep scowl did not add to Leslie’s appearance.
“She’s in Europe. She crossed on the same steamer with Joan Myers. She tried to talk to Joan, but Joan couldn’t see her for a minute. I had a letter from Joan from Paris.” Natalie volunteered this information.
“Hm-m. Looks as though she’d keep her scalp for awhile,” Leslie observed with grim humor. “I’ll catch her sometime—coming or going. What I’d rather do is hang around dear old Hamilton,” Leslie put mocking sarcasm into the last three words, “and see what I can put over on Bean.”
“What do you mean?” Natalie looked mystified. “What could you do now? Bean has a home, I believe. One would naturally suppose she’d go to it after having been graduated with honors at Hamilton.” The bitterness of Natalie’s tone indicated the jealous envy which mention of Marjorie Dean had aroused afresh.
“That’s as much as you know about it. I happen to know that Bean will be in Hamilton and on the campus soon, if she’s not there already.”
“How do you happen to know it?” Natalie’s face registered incredulity, then curiosity. Second thought caused her to remember that Leslie had ways of her own of finding out things.
“Never mind how.” Leslie turned tantalizing. “‘Nuff’ said.”
“I can’t think of anything you could do to spite Bean. You tried your last trick when you bought that property you thought she wanted for her precious dormitory. What happened?” was the sarcastic retaliation.
“You’ll never be celebrated as a great thinker, Nat,” Leslie drawled, ignoring her companion’s displeasing question. “Leave it to me to make matters hum for Bean. I’m going to Hamilton on the six-thirty train in the morning. I’ll have something to tell you, you’d better believe when I come back.”
“Oh, yes, ‘Leave it to me,’” mimicked Natalie, an angry light in her gray-blue eyes. “You’re crazy, Leslie Cairns,” was her added scathing opinion.