“Well, well, well; you don’t mean it.” Jerry Macy looked up with an incredulous grin from the letter she was writing.
“Yes, I do mean it.” Marjorie pounced upon Jerry and tried to pull her up from her chair. Jerry grinningly braced herself and remained firm.
“You can’t do it, Marvelous Manager. I’m someone you can’t manage. So Gentleman Gus is going to have a pow-wow! Shall Jeremiah attend it, or finish her letter? Which? What?” Jerry had applied the nickname “Gentleman Gus,” to Augusta Forbes because of the number of male rôles the tall, broad-shouldered sophomore had played in campus shows during her freshman year.
“You’ll attend it,” was Marjorie’s threatening prediction as she began a fresh onslaught upon her apparently stationary chum. “If I can’t haul you up from that chair I’ll go for reinforcements. Then we’ll see what’ll happen.”
“Just see what’s happened already.” Jerry sprang up from the chair. “Why, Bean, respected Bean, excuse me. I nearly tipped you over, didn’t I?” she innocently apologized as she bumped smartly against her roommate.
“Oh, never mind. You don’t know any better,” Marjorie made charitable allowance as she tucked her arm in Jerry’s and moved resolutely toward the door.
In front of the closed door of Gussie’s room Marjorie smiled and raised a finger. Inside a merry babel of fresh young voices told them the pow-wow was in full swing. Marjorie tapped lightly on the door. No one answering, she turned the knob and she and Jerry entered the room. Ronny, Lucy, Leila and Vera formed a group around which the five sophomore chums known to their friends as the Bertramites had gathered.
At sight of Marjorie and Jerry a mild shout went up from the assembled nine. Gussie made a jubilant dash from the group to receive them.
“For goodness sake, girls, moderate your whoops of joy,” cautioned Flossie Hart when she could make herself heard above the commotion. “The Hall is full of young and timid freshies. This warning isn’t meant for you P. G.’s,” she laughingly excepted. “Only the Bertramites are included in it.”
“A pow-wow is a pow-wow. I’m surprised at you, Floss,” reproved Calista Wilmot with a giggle.