"Wonderful! I suppose you met Phil Moore or some other Silvertonite with her arms full of bundles. About the time she saw you she dropped 'em.

'With a sympathetic yell, Helpful Marjorie leaped from the taxicab to aid her overburdened but foolish friend.' Quotation from the last best seller." Jerry regarded Marjorie with a teasing smile.

"Your suppositions are about a mile off the track. I haven't seen a Silvertonite this afternoon. The lady in distress I met was--" Marjorie paused by way of making her revelation more effective, "Miss Susanna Hamilton."

"_What?_ You don't say so." Jerry exhibited the utmost astonishment.

"Good thing you didn't ask me to guess. She is the last person I would have thought of. Now how did it happen? I am glad of it for your sake.

You've been so anxious to know her."

Rapidly Marjorie recounted the afternoon's adventure. As she talked she busied herself with the redressing of her hair. After dinner she would have no more than time to put on the white lingerie frock she intended to wear to Elaine's birthday party.

Jerry listened without comment. While she had never taken the amount of interest in the owner of Hamilton Arms which Marjorie had evinced since entering Hamilton College, she had a certain curiosity regarding Miss Susanna.

"I knew you girls would wait and wonder what had delayed me. I am awfully sorry. You know that, Jeremiah," Marjorie apologized. "But I couldn't have gone on in the taxi after I saw what had happened to Miss Susanna. She couldn't have carried the basket as I did clear over to that cottage. She said she would have picked up as many plant jars as she could carry in her arms and gone on with them."

"One of the never-say-die sort, isn't she? Very likely in the years she has lived near the college she has met with some rude girls. On the order of the Sans, you know. If, in the past twenty years, Hamilton was half as badly overrun with sn.o.bs as when we entered, one can imagine why she doesn't adore students."

"It doesn't hurt my feelings to hear her say she disliked girls. I only felt sorry for her. It must be dreadful to be old and lonely. She is lonely, even if she doesn't know it. She has deliberately shut the door between herself and happiness. I am so glad we're young, Jeremiah."

Marjorie sighed her grat.i.tude for the gift of youth. "I hope always to be young at heart."

"I sha'n't wear a cap and spectacles and walk with a cane until I have to, believe me," was Jerry's emphatic rejoinder. "Are you ready to go down to dinner? My hair is done, too. I shall dress after I've been fed.

Oh, I forgot to tell you. I bought you a present to give Elaine. We bought every last thing we are going to give her at the Curio Shop."

"You are a dear. I knew some of the girls would help me out. I supposed it would be you, though. Do let me see my present."

"There it is on my chiffonier. You'd better examine it after dinner. It is a hand-painted chocolate pot; a beauty, too. Looks like a bit of spring time."

"I'll look at it the minute I come back. I'm oceans obliged to you."

Marjorie cast a longing glance at the tall package on the chiffonier, as the two girls left the room.

At dinner that night Marjorie's adventure of the afternoon excited the interest of her chums. She was obliged to repeat, as nearly as she could what she said to Miss Susanna and what Miss Susanna had said to her.

"Did she mention the May basket?" quizzed Muriel with a giggle.

"Now why should she?" counter-questioned Marjorie.

"Well; she was talking about not receiving a birthday present for over fifty years. She might have said, 'But some kind-hearted person hung a beautiful violet basket on my door on May day evening!'"

"Only she didn't. That flight of fancy was wasted," Jerry informed Muriel.

"Wasted on you. You haven't proper sentiment," flung back Muriel.

"I'll never acquire it in your company," Jerry a.s.sured. The subdued laughter the tilt evoked reached the table occupied by Leslie Cairns, Natalie Weyman, Dulcie Vale and three others of the Sans.

"Those girls seem to find enough to laugh at," commented Dulcie Vale half enviously.

"Simpletons!" muttered Leslie Cairns. She was out of sorts with the world in general that evening. "They sit there and 'ha-ha-ha' at their meals until I can hardly stand it sometimes. I hate eating dinner here.

I'd dine at the Colonial every evening, but it takes too much time. I really must study hard this year to get through. I certainly will be happy to see the last of this treadmill. I'm going to take a year after I'm graduated just to sail around and have a good time. After that I shall help my father in business."

"There's one thing you ought to know, Leslie, and that is you had better be careful what you do this year. I have heard two or three rumors that sound as though those girls over there had told about what happened the night of the masquerade. I wouldn't take part in another affair of that kind for millions of dollars."

Dulcie Vale a.s.sumed an air of virtuous resolve as she delivered herself of this warning to Leslie.

"Don't worry. There won't be any occasion. I don't believe those m.u.f.fs ever told a thing outside of their own crowd. They're a close corporation. I wish I could say the same of us." Leslie laughed this arrow with cool deliberation.

"What do you mean?" Harriet Stephens said sharply. "Who of us would be silly enough to tell our private affairs?"

"I hope you wouldn't." Leslie's eyes narrowed threateningly. "I have heard one or two things myself which may or may not be true. I am not ready to say anything further just now. My advice to all of you is to keep your affairs to yourselves. If you are foolish enough to babble your own about the campus, on your head be it. Be sure you will hear from me if you tell tales. Besides, you are apt to lose your diplomas by it. A word to the wise, you know. I have a recitation in psychology in the morning. I must put in a quiet evening. Kindly let me alone, all of you." She rose and sauntered from the room, leaving her satellites to discuss her open insinuation and wonder what she had heard to put her in such an "outrageous" humor.

CHAPTER VIII-A FROLIC AT SILVERTON HALL

The "simpletons" finished their dinner amid much merriment, quite unconscious of their lack of sense, and hustled up to their rooms to dress for the party. Leila, Vera, Helen, Hortense Barlow, Eva Ingram, Nella Sherman and Mary Cornell had also been invited. Shortly after seven the elect started for Silverton Hall, primed for a jubilant evening. Besides their gifts, each girl carried a small nosegay of mixed flowers. The flowers had been purchased in bulk by Helen, Eva and Mary.

The trio had made them up into dainty, round bouquets. These were to be showered upon Elaine, immediately she appeared among them. Helen had also composed a Nonsense Ode which she said had cost her more mental effort than forty themes.

Every girl at Silverton Hall was invited to the party. It was not in gentle Elaine to slight anyone. With twenty girls from other campus houses, the long living room at the Hall was filled. Across one of its lower corners had been hung a heavy green curtain. What it concealed only those who had arranged the surprise knew. Elaine had been seized by Portia Graham and Blanche Scott and made to swear on her sacred honor that she would absolutely shun the living room until granted permission to enter it.

"I hope you have all put cards with your presents," were Portia's first words after greeting them at the door. "You can't give them to Elaine yourselves. We've arranged a general presentation. So don't be snippy because I rob you of your offerings."

"Glad of it." Jerry promptly tendered her gift to Portia. "I always feel silly giving a present."

The others from Wayland Hall very willingly surrendered their good-will offerings. Their bouquets they kept. Entering the reception hall, Elaine stepped forward to welcome them and received a sudden flower pelting, to the accompaniment of a lively chorus of congratulations.

"How lovely! Umm! The dear things!" she exclaimed, as the rain of blossoms came fast and furious. Her sweet, fair face aglow with the love of flowers, she gathered them up in the overskirt of her white chiffon frock and sat down on the lower step of the stairs to enjoy their fragrance. "I am not allowed in the living room, girls. Everyone can go in there but poor me. I thank you for these perfectly darling bouquets.

I'll have a different one to wear every day this week. If you want to fix your hair or do any further beautifying go up to Robin's room. If not, go into the living room."

Lingering for a little further chat with Elaine, whom they all adored, they entered the living room to be met by a vociferous welcome from the a.s.sembled Silvertonites. When the last guest had arrived and been ushered into the reception room, from somewhere in the house a bell suddenly tinkled. In order to give more s.p.a.ce the chairs had been removed and the guests lined the sides of the apartment and filled one end of it halfway to the wide doorway opening into the main hall.

At sound of the bell a hush fell upon the merry-makers. Again it tinkled and down the stairs came a procession that might have stepped from a tapestry depicting the life of the greenwood men. Four merry men, their green cambric costumes carefully modeled after the attire of Robin Hood and his followers, had come to the party. The first, instead of being Robin Hood, was Robin Page. She bowed low to Elaine, who was still languishing in exile in the hall, and offered her arm.

"Delighted; I am so tired of hanging about that old hall!" Elaine seized Robin's arm with alacrity and the two pa.s.sed into the adjoining room.

The other three faithful servitors followed their leader. The last one carried a violin and drew from it an old-time greenwood melody as Elaine and Robin joined forces and paraded into the living room.

Straight toward the green curtain Robin piloted Elaine to the fiddler's plaintive tune. Stationed before the curtain, Blanche Scott drew it aside.

A surprised and admiring chorus of exclamations arose. There stood a real greenwood tree. Portia and Blanche could have amply testified to this fact as the two of them, armed with a hatchet, had laboriously chopped down a small maple and brought it to the house from the woods on the afternoon previous. Its branches were as well loaded with packages of various sizes as those of a Christmas tree. Under the tree was a gra.s.sy mound built up of hard cushions, the whole covered with real sod dug up by the patient wood cutters.

On this Elaine was invited to sit. She formed a pretty picture in her fluffy white gown in conjunction with the greenery. The four merry men gathered round her and bowed low, then sang her an ancient ballad to the accompaniment of the violin. Followed a short speech by the tallest of the four congratulating her, in stately language on the anniversary of her birth. Three of the four then busied themselves with stripping the tree of its spoils and laying them at her feet. During this procedure the fiddler evoked further sweet thin melodies from his violin.

Last, Elaine's gallant escort, who had left her briefly, returned to the scene with a large green and white straw basket, piled high with gifts.

These duly presented, the quaint bit of forest play was over and the enjoying spectators crowded about the lucky recipient of friendly riches.

"I don't know what I shall ever do with them all," she declared in an amazed, quavering voice. "I'm not half over the shock of so much wealth yet. I simply can't open them now. I'll weep tears of grat.i.tude over every separate one of them."

"You aren't expected to look at them now," was Robin's rea.s.surance.

"Your merry men are going to carry Elaine's nice new playthings up to her room. So there! Tomorrow's Sat.u.r.day. You can spend the afternoon exploring. We are going to have a stunt party now. Anyone who is called upon to do a stunt has to conform or be ostracized."