Part 12 (1/2)
”It was Dulcie Vale,” came the treacherous answer.
”I knew it.” Leslie brought one hand sharply down against the other.
”What else has Dulcie told you?”
”About what?” counter-questioned the soph.o.m.ore.
”That's what I am asking you.” Leslie leaned forward in her chair, steady eyes on her vis-a-vis.
Elizabeth experienced inward trepidation. Dulcie had told her a great many things which she had promptly repeated to friends of hers under promise of secrecy. Suppose Leslie had traced some bit of gossip to her.
She had heard that Leslie could pretend affability when she was the angriest. She might be only using Dulcie as a blind in order to extract a confession from her.
”I don't quite understand you, Leslie,” she a.s.serted, knitting her light brows. ”Dulcie has talked to me a little about the Sans. I never mentioned a word she said to anyone else.”
”That's not the point. I am not accusing you of talking too much. You made a remark the other day which I took as an a.s.sumption that you had been told about the summons. I knew Dulcie had told you. Dulcie has said things to others, too.”
”Oh, I know that.” Confidence returning, Elizabeth was quick to place the blame on the absent Dulcie.
”Yes; and so do I. It is very necessary that I should get to the bottom of her talk. Some say one thing about her, some another. I thought I could rely on you for the facts.”
”I don't care to have any trouble with Dulcie over this,” deprecated Elizabeth.
”You won't. Your name won't be mentioned in it. All I need is the facts.
You will be doing me a great favor. If there is anything I can do for you in return, let me know.” Leslie had donned her cloak of pseudo-sincerity.
”Oh, no; there is nothing.” Elizabeth slowly shook her head. ”I-well, I wouldn't want you to think I _cared_ for a return.” Her manner plainly indicated that there was something Leslie might do for her if she chose.
”What is it you want?” Leslie exhibited marked impatience. ”Favor for favor you know,” she added boldly. ”I never mince matters.”
”I am crazy to play on the soph basket-ball team. Do you think you can fix it for me?”
”Surest thing ever. Leonard is peeved and has tossed up sports. Two of the Sans are on committee. Is that all you need?”
”Yes.” The wide babyish eyes registered a flash of gratification. ”You are so _kind_, Leslie. Thank you a thousand times. I know you won't fail me.”
”You're welcome. I'll fix it for you tomorrow. One bit of advice. Don't play unless you are an expert.”
”I am. When I was at prep school--”
”Never mind about that now. You go ahead and tell me what I asked you.
It is almost six and Nat will be here soon.”
”Oh, will she?” The soph.o.m.ore cast an apprehensive glance toward the door. ”Is she a very good friend of Dulcie's?”
”She's a better friend of mine,” was the bored reply. Leslie was growing tired of being kept from what she burned to know. ”Please don't waste any more time, Bess. We can't talk after Nat comes in. I don't believe I'll be able to see you again before Sat.u.r.day. I'm awfully busy. I'll lunch you at the Lotus then. We'll use my roadster for the trip to town.
What?”
Elated at having gleaned from Leslie a promise of benefit to herself and an invitation to luncheon, Elizabeth once more stipulated that her name should be left out of the revelation. Again rea.s.sured, she proceeded to regale Leslie with the confidences Dulcie had imparted to her at various times. She talked steadily for almost half an hour. Leslie gave her free rein, interrupting her but little.
”It's even worse than I had thought,” Leslie declared grimly, when Elizabeth could recall nothing more to tell. ”Bess, if you know when you are well off, you will never tell a soul what you have told me. Part of it isn't true. Dulcie was romancing to you about that hazing affair. We talked about it for fun, but that was all. Why, we were all at the masquerade that night.”