Part 4 (1/2)
Entering the dining room, Vera and Leila called ”Good morning” from the next table to their own.
”Be with you in a minute,” Leila informed them. ”I've something to report, Lieutenant.” This directly to Marjorie. During the Easter visit she and Vera had made Marjorie, she had taken delightedly to the army idea as carried out by the Deans. Afterward she frequently addressed Marjorie as ”Lieutenant.”
”I know what it is,” promptly returned Jerry. ”So have we. We just saw Miss Remson. Is that what you are driving at?”
”It is. Now what shall I do to you for snapping my news from my mouth?”
Leila asked severely.
”Maybe I don't know as much as you do, so you needn't feel grieved,”
conciliated Jerry. ”Come over here and we will compare notes. I may know something you don't know. You may know something I don't know. Think what a wonderful information session we shall have.”
Hurriedly finis.h.i.+ng her coffee, Leila rose and joined the Lookouts. ”I won't sit down,” she declined, as Ronny motioned her to draw up a nearby chair. ”Miss Remson asked Vera and I to stop at her office after breakfast.”
”She asked us, too. There, I took Jerry's news away from her. That pays up for what she did to you.” Muriel glanced teasingly at Jerry.
”Oh, go as far as you like.” Jerry waved an elaborately careless hand.
”Like the race in Alice in Wonderland: 'All won.' Perhaps one of you wise women of Hamilton can tell us if anyone else is invited to Busy Buzzy's office party.”
”Silence was the answer,” put in Marjorie mischievously, as no one essayed a reply to Jerry's satirical question.
”Helen ought to be,” Jerry said stoutly. ”She was with us to the letter last spring. I guess she'll be there. Miss Remson is fond of her.”
One and all the eight girls were experiencing inward satisfaction at the summons to Miss Remson's office. Confident that it had to do with the readmittance or denial of the Sans to Wayland Hall, they were glad that the odd little manager had chosen to give them her confidence.
”I'm going over to the garage to see if the new tire is on my car. It blew out yesterday while I was driving it to cover after I left you girls. I'll be back by the time you girls have finished breakfast. Going with me, Midget?” Leila turned to Vera.
”No, Ireland,” she declined, with the little rippling smile which was one of her chief charms. ”I am still hungry. I want another cup of coffee and a nice fat cinnamon bun. By the time I put them away you will be back.”
As Leila went out, Helen Trent appeared, a slightly sleepy look in her blue eyes. Her arrival was greeted with acclamation. Aside from Vera and Leila, the long pleasant dining room was empty of students when the Lookouts and Katherine had entered it. In consequence, they were more free to laugh and talk. The presence of the Sans in the room during meals quenched the spirit of comradarie that was so marked at Silverton Hall.
”Have you seen Miss Remson?” was hurled at Helen in chorus. She dimpled engagingly and nodded her head.
”I saw her last night after I left you girls. I had to have a new bulb for one of my lights.”
”Glad of it.” Jerry beamed at Helen. She had not wished her junior friend left out of Miss Remson's confidence. ”If she had not told you, I was going to ask her if you might be in on it,” she a.s.sured.
”Faithful old Jeremiah.” Helen reached over from where she had paused beside the Lookouts' table and patted Jerry on the shoulder.
”One might think you were addressing a valued family watch dog,”
remarked Lucy Warner. Helen's dimples deepened. ”You don't say much, Luciferous, but what you say is _amazin'_. I hadn't the slightest intention of ranking my respected pardner, Jeremiah, as an animal friend. With this apologetic explanation, I shall insist that you drop all such thoughts.”
”Oh, I did not say I thought so,” calmly corrected Lucy. ”I merely said, 'One might think.'” Lucy's features were purposely austere. Her greenish eyes were dancing. Long since her chums had discovered that her sense of humor was as keen as her sense of criticism.
Leila presently returned to find the breakfasters feasting on hot, old-fas.h.i.+oned cinnamon buns. These buns were a specialty at Wayland Hall, and, with coffee, were a tempting meal in themselves. Another ten minutes, and they left the dining-room en ma.s.se, bound for the little manager's office, there to learn what they might or might not expect from the Sans during the coming college year.
CHAPTER V.
LETTER NUMBER TWO.
”Come in!” called a brisk, familiar voice, as Ronny knocked lightly on the almost closed door. Filing decorously into the rather small office, the nine girls grouped themselves about the manager's chair.