Читать книгу Marjorie Dean, Marvelous Manager - Chase Josephine - Страница 6

“Stung, and by the truth!” Jerry gave an exultant skip into their room behind Marjorie and hastily closed the door. Miss Peyton, confronted by unassailable truth, had no defense ready. She glared wrathfully at Jerry and Marjorie and hurriedly disappeared into her room.

“We can guess what it’s all about,” greeted Muriel Harding. “We ought to be shocked and amazed, Marvelous Manager, at you for fussing. We might expect it of Jeremiah.”

“You might; you bet you might. I’d have done all the fussing this time if Marjorie hadn’t begun answering that trouble hunter first. Believe me Leila, the first attack in the Battle of Wayland Hall was made right at our door. I’m happy to announce that the enemy was sent fleeing across the hall with one good hot shot fired by the Travelers’ friend, J. J. G. Macy. I’m the one.” Jerry proudly thumped her chest.

“Could you hear what we were saying?” Marjorie glanced interestedly about the half circle of girls, eagerly formed around her. “I know you would try not to listen.”

“We could hear only a word now and then,” Vera made haste to answer. “Of course it was a complaint about us. What is the matter with these sophs? They weren’t so obstreperous last year as freshies?”

“I took Miss Peyton to the freshman hop last year,” said Lillian Wenderblatt. “As a Traveler in the midst of Travelers I may say she was very ungracious to me. I accepted her rudeness as not having been intentional; laid it to her natural manner. Since I’ve heard her rated as the rudest student on the campus.”

“Gussie Forbes says that the freshies who made life hard for her and her pals last year are the sophs who are trying to do it again this year,” said Phyllis Moore.

“Gussie is a wise child. And with Muriel’s celebrated Ice Queen to add to the snarl what hope is there for a few poor old P. G. ladies who had hoped to live out their days in peace on the campus? Oh, wurra, wurra!” Leila crossed her hands over her breast, clutched her shoulders with her fingers, thrust out her chin and rocked herself to and fro with the appearance of a mourning old woman.

“What a dandy old woman you make, Leila. I’m going to cast you for an old hag part in a melodrama, if I can find a good one. The campus is howling for a truly lurid one with outlaws, an abducted child, a lost heiress, an old hag and various other nice pleasant little characters.” Robin was always on the lookout for features. “We can ask three dollars a seat for a zipping old ‘dramer’ and crowd the gym.”

“It’s a good deal more pleasant to talk of shows than fusses,” Marjorie declared, smiling at Robin’s latest ambition. Glancing up at the wall clock she gave a quick exclamation. “Jerry,” she cried, “we’ll have to trot out the spread instanter!”

“Don’t I know it. I’ve already begun.” Jerry made a dive toward her closet.

“What about those two stunts for the candidates?” Lucy Warner caught Jerry by an arm.

“Why, Luciferous, how you do like to see people get into trouble, don’t you?” grinned Jerry.

Lucy’s grave, studious face relaxed into the wide, utterly pleased smile which Muriel and Jerry both enjoyed calling to it. She broke into the funny little half giggle, half gurgle which was always productive of laughter in others.

“The idea, Luciferous, of your calling attention to poor Barbara and me after all we’ve suffered!” Phil turned reproachful blue eyes on Lucy.

“Oh, I’m not so mean as you think me,” Lucy’s odd greenish eyes flashed warm lights of fun. “It was a case of either stunts or eats. It’s going to be eats, so good night stunts.”

“‘Good night stunts,’” repeated Muriel. “You never learned them words from Prexy Matthews, Luciferous.”

“I should hope not,” chuckled Lucy. “All the slang I know I learned from you and Jeremiah. Kindly remember that.”

“I wish to forget it immediately,” Muriel looked askance at the accusation.

With the hands of the clock pointing to ten minutes to ten Marjorie and Jerry, with Leila’s and Vera’s help rushed the eatables for the spread to the center table. Leila had furnished a box of Irish sweet crackers and a case of imported ginger ale. The ginger ale had arrived only the day before from across the ocean. Sweet pickles, stuffed olives, stuffed dates, salted almonds and small fancy cakes comprised the lay-out. There had been no time to make sandwiches.

Supplied with paper napkins and paper plates the guests helped themselves to the spread. They formed in an irregular group on each side of Jerry’s couch which held its usual four of their number. Marjorie and Jerry seated themselves on the floor in front of the couch bed. Unintentionally they formed the center of the group.

“At last you can tell us what was said at the door,” sighed Robin. “It isn’t curious to want to know, since we are concerned in it, too.”

“I wish you to know,” Marjorie reflectively bit into a maccaroon. “I’ll try to repeat as exactly as I can what was said. Then you’ll understand the situation better.” She recounted the conversation which had taken place at the door between herself and Miss Peyton.

“Report us to Prexy; the idea!” scoffed Lillian Wenderblatt. “She is an ambitious trouble hunter. She’ll find plenty of troubles if she carries any such tale to him.”

“I should say as much!” was Vera’s indignant cry. “Imagine a soph reporting P. G.’s and double P. G.’s and faculty and the P. G. daughter of Professor Wenderblatt! Not to mention Prexy’s own indispensible private secretary! And for what? No vestige of a reason.”

“If she does report us, Prexy’s own indispensible private secretary will take action,” threatened Lucy. “I’d be the first person the president would ask about it. If Miss Peyton went to see him in person I’d hear of it from him afterward; I’m sure. If she wrote him, I’d see the letter and take the answer he dictated. I’d ask him if I might tell you girls about it, too.” The light of devotion shone strongly in Lucy’s face.

“Who’s Prexy? We’re not in awe of him with our Luciferous on the job,” was Ronny’s confident declaration. “Long may she flourish.” She held up her glass of ginger ale. The others followed her example, careful, however, to “Drink her down” with repressed enthusiasm.

“I ought to be ashamed to face my classes tomorrow with the sword of Miss Peyton’s disapproval hanging over my head,” Kathie remarked in the pleasant lull that followed the drinking of the toast to Lucy.

“But are you?” quizzed Muriel. “I’m afraid from your tone that you aren’t.”

“Your fears are well grounded,” laughed Kathie. “The sophs and freshies at the Hall, judging from accounts, seem to be positively childish,” she continued in a more serious way. “They’re not snobs as the Sans were. There’s some hope for them. I’ll venture to say that before next June Marvelous Manager will have managed them.” Her prediction was one of confident affection.

“Such a foolish name; and you will say it,” scolded Marjorie and not quite in jest. “A fine manager I am. I can’t even manage my own affairs. I can’t decide whether to go home for Thanksgiving, or stay here,” she added in self-derision.

“One thing we must decide before we separate,” Ronny said with energy. “Where shall we meet tomorrow night? Remember we shall be twenty-nine strong. We can’t hold the meeting in one of our rooms. We must have plenty of space for our new Travelers. The living room down stairs isn’t private enough. Has anyone a really brilliant suggestion. No other kind is desired. Save your breath.”

“I have. Hold the meeting in our library,” proposed Lillian Wenderblatt. “I’ll put a sign on the library door before dinner tomorrow night: ‘Professor Wenderblatt: Keep Out,’ and lead Father to the door to look at it. Then he won’t bolt into the room with maybe two or three other professors in the middle of our meeting.”

Lillian’s proposal was received with approbation and accepted with alacrity. Leila, Vera, Robin and Lillian were chosen to notify the fortunate seniors of the honor in store for them. The rest of the details of the meeting were quickly arranged. Ten-thirty was not far off.

“Don’t imagine for a minute that you have seen the last of your initiation,” Jerry informed Phil and Barbara, a threatening gleam in her eye. “There are still those two degrees, you know.”

“Oh, forget them. We shall,” Phil made untroubled return.

“You may forget, but I – nevv-vur.” Jerry struck an attitude.

“Nor I.” Muriel dramatically tapped her chest and glared at Phil. “’Sdeath to all quitters,” she hissed.

“Oh, glorious for my melodrama!” admired Robin. “You and Jeremiah shall be the villains.”

“I choose to be the principal, double-dyed scoundrel of the show,” stipulated Muriel, “or else I’ll refuse to see your play. I spurn anything and everything but complete villainy.”

“Give me a better part than Muriel or I won’t act,” balked Jerry.

“I’m going to fly before any more actors go on a strike,” Robin raised a protesting hand. “I must look out for Page and Dean’s melodramer.”

“Only birds, insects, aviators and ‘sich’ fly,” criticized Phil. “I simply must get back at you for not giving me a cousinly warning of what was in store for me tonight.”

“Seniors, P. G.’s and faculty will add to the flying classification or lose what shreds of reputation for integrity they have left,” laughed Kathie.

“An added word of warning: – Hotfoot it lightly.” Jerry’s forceful if inelegant injunction sent the initiation party down the hall dutifully smothering their easily summoned mirth. Jerry accompanied the party to the head of the stairs. She returned to the room, keeping an alert watch as she walked on a certain door across the hall. This time she noted with satisfaction that it was tightly closed.