For ten minutes Leslie talked on in this strain, her hearers observing a strained silence. She was purposely piling up the enormity of Dulcie's misdeed so as to impress the others. As for Dulcie, she had begun to show signs of nervousness. Once or twice her eyes measured the distance from her chair to the door as if she were meditating sudden flight. What remnants of conscience she still had, stirred to the point of informing her that the coat Leslie was airing fitted her too snugly for comfort.

She had not yet arrived at the moment of awakening, however. She believed Leslie's remarks to be directed toward someone else. Margaret Wayne, perhaps; or, Loretta Kelly. Leslie had once said to her that Loretta was a gossip. Dulcie now tried to recall an instance of Loretta's perfidy. It would be to her interest to cite an instance of it should Leslie call for special evidence. It would pay Loretta back for once having called her a stupid little owl.

In the midst of racking her vindictive brain for evidence against a fellow member, Dulcie lost briefly the thread of Leslie's discourse.

Mention of her own name re-furnished her with it.

"Dulciana Vale," she heard Leslie saying in a tense note quite different from her indolent drawl, "do you know of any reason why you should be allowed a further membership in the Sans Soucians after having become an utter traitor to their interests?"

Dulcie struggled to her feet, her sulky features a study in slow-growing rage. "What-what-do you-mean?" Her voice was rising to a gasping scream.

"How dare you call me a traitor. You are telling lies; just nothing but lies."

CHAPTER XIX-IN THE INTEREST OF PRIVATE SAFETY

"Sit down," ordered Leslie sharply, "and keep your voice down! You have made us all enough trouble. We don't propose that you shall add to it."

"I have not," shrieked Dulcie. "I don't know what you are talking about.

You're crazy if you say I told all that stuff you mentioned. Why don't you put the blame where it belongs? You told me yourself that Loretta and Margaret were both gossips. You told Bess Walbert a lot of things yourself. She told me so. You used to tell Lola Elster a lot, too. Nat Weyman isn't above gossiping, either. She has said some _hateful_ things about you, if you care to know it."

Fully launched, Dulcie bade fair to stir up dissension in a breath.

Worse, her lung power seemed to increase with every word.

"Pay no attention to her," Leslie advised her chums in a cold, level voice. "She can tell more yarns to the second than anyone else I know."

"You said you could manage her, Les. For goodness' sake do so. I am afraid she'll be heard down stairs." Joan Myers sprang to her feet in exasperation.

"Leave that to me." Leslie's eyes snapped. She was fast losing the admirable poise she had held so well. The real Leslie Cairns was coming to the surface.

Three or four lithe steps and she was facing Dulcie. The latter still stood by her chair shrieking forth invective.

"Listen to me, you _idiot_," she said with an intensity of wrath that approached a snarl. "Cut out that screaming-_now_. We are done with you.

We know you for what you are. Not one of us will ever speak to you again after you leave this room. Get that straight. If you ever repeat another word on the campus of the Sans' business you will be a sorry girl.

_Don't you forget that._ You carried the idea that, if trouble came from your talk, you could slide out of it and leave us to face it. You couldn't have cleared yourself. What you are to do from now on is--"

A sharp rapping at the door interrupted Leslie. Raising a warning finger to her lips, she crossed the room to answer the knock.

"Good evening, Miss Remson," she coldly greeted. "Will you come in? Our club is holding a meeting in my room." She made an indifferent gesture toward the a.s.sembled girls.

"Good evening, Miss Cairns. No; I do not wish to enter your room. I must insist, however, that you conduct your meeting quietly. The commotion going on in here can be heard downstairs."

The very impersonality of the manager's reproof brought a quick rush of blood to Leslie's cheeks. It was as though Miss Remson considered Leslie and her companions so far beneath her it took conscientious effort on her part even to reprove them. It stung Leslie to a desire to clear herself of the opprobrium.

"I am sorry about the noise," she apologized in annoyed embarra.s.sment.

"Miss Vale is responsible for it. I have been trying to quiet her. She is very angry with us for calling her to account for disloyalty. She has done so many despicable things we felt it necessary to call a meeting of the club to--"

"Pardon me. I am not interested in anything save the fact that there must be no more screaming or loud altercation from this room tonight or at any other time. As it is your room, Miss Cairns, I shall hold you responsible for the good behavior of your guests."

Again the aloofness of the rebuke cut Leslie through and through. She had never believed that she could be so utterly snubbed by "Trotty"

Remson.

"Very well." It was the only thing she could think of to say.

Miss Remson turned from the door and went on down the long hall. Leslie was seized with a savage inclination to bang the door. She refrained from indulging it. There had been enough noise already.

She returned to her companions to find Dulcie furious because she had been reported to Miss Remson as the author of the commotion.

"Talk about anyone being treacherous," she stormed, but in a more subdued key. "_You're_ treacherous as a snake. _You'd_ tell tales on-on your own father, if it would save you from disgrace."

"That's enough." Leslie's last atom of self-control vanished. "I am tired of your foolishness. Get out of my room, instantly. Don't you ever dare even speak to me again. Let me hear one word you have said against any of us and I will have you expelled within twenty-four hours afterward. I can do it, too. If you go to headquarters with any tales against us, remember you are one and we are seventeen who will act as one in denying your fairy stories. You--"

"Not fairy stories," sneered Dulcie. "I'd be satisfied to tell the truth about you deceitful things. It would more than run you out of Hamilton."

"You couldn't tell the truth to save your life," retorted Leslie with a caustic contempt which hit Dulcie harder than anything else Leslie had said to her.

"I-I-think--" Dulcie struggled with her emotions, then suddenly burst into hysterical sobs. Her arm against her face to shut her distorted features from sight of her accusers, she stumbled to the door, groping for the k.n.o.b with her free hand. An instant and she had gone, too thoroughly humiliated to slam the door after her. The sounds of her weeping could be faintly heard by the others until her own door closed behind her.

"Gone!" Joan Myers sighed exaggerated relief.

"Yes; and _broken_," announced Leslie Cairns with cruel satisfaction.

"Oh, I don't know," differed Margaret Wayne. She had not forgotten Dulcie's a.s.sertion as to what Leslie had said of her and Loretta. "Dulc had s.p.u.n.k enough to answer you back to the very last. I don't see that--"

"No, you don't see. Well, I do. I say that Dulcie Vale left here just now _utterly crushed_," argued Leslie with stress. "You are peeved, Margaret, because of what she claimed I said of you and Retta. She lied."

"Certainly, Dulcie lied," supported Natalie. "Do you believe that _I_, Leslie's best friend, would say hateful things about her? Yet Dulc said I had. Didn't Les warn you not to pay any attention to what she said? We knew she would try to make trouble among the Sans the minute we called her down."

"We did, indeed." Leslie made a movement of her head that betokened Dulcie's utter hopelessness.

"I didn't say I believed what Dulcie said," half-apologized Margaret. In her heart she did not trust Leslie, however. It was like her to make just such remarks about any of the Sans if in bad humor.

"Never mind. It isn't worrying me," was the purposely careless response.

"To go back to what you said about Dulc not being broken. I have known her longer than you, Margaret. She can keep up a row about so long, then she crumples. After that there isn't a spark of fight left in her. She always ends by a fit of crying, next door to hysterics. Isn't that true of her, Nat?"

Natalie nodded. "Yes; Dulcie will mind her own affairs now and keep her mouth closed for a long time to come."

"She's afraid of me," Leslie continued, her intonation harsh. "She doesn't know just the extent of my influence here."

"Could you truly have her expelled within twenty-four hours?" queried Harriet Stephens somewhat incredulously.

"You heard me say so. It would take a very slight effort to do that. I could wire my father, then--" Leslie paused, looking mysterious. "Sorry, girls, but I can't tell you any more than that. I'll simply say that my wonderful father's influence can remove mountains, if necessary. That's why I was so furious with that little sneak for daring even to mention his name."

"Could your father's influence save you from being expelled if different things you have done here were brought up against you?" demanded Adelaide Forman.

Leslie's eyes narrowed at the question. It was a little too searching for comfort. In reality her father's influence at Hamilton was a minus quant.i.ty. She had been boasting with a view toward increasing her own importance.

"It would depend entirely on what I had done," she answered after a moment's thought. "You must understand that my father would be wild if he knew I had gone out hazing when it is strictly against rules. He wouldn't do a thing to help me if I had trouble with Matthews over that.

If I wrote him that Dulcie, for instance, was trying, by lies, to have me or my friends expelled from Hamilton, he would fight for me in a minute."