Part 12 (1/2)
Leslie listened, careful not to interrupt. She was tactfully pursuing a certain course.
”Do you know anything about this students' beneficiary business that Bean and her beanstalks organized last year, Bess?” she finally asked with a careless air. ”I heard Lola mention it the day I saw her. I didn't care to ask her about it. Last year, just before the Sans were fired from Hamilton, I heard the organizers were going to take up a collection among themselves to create a scholars.h.i.+p fund or something like that. I thought I might like to contribute, if I knew just what it was all about. I'd do it anonymously. I wouldn't for worlds let anyone but you know. Do you think you could find out all about it for me?”
”Certainly,” was the ready promise. Re-established thus easily in Leslie's favor, Elizabeth was feeling elated. To be entrusted with this commission meant she would see Leslie often. Loyal to no one, she had liked Leslie better than the majority of girls she had known.
”I know a fres.h.i.+e at Acasia House who is quite friendly with Miss Laird.
Bean, as you call her, is a great friend of Miss Laird's. I think this freshman could get the information from Miss Laird. She is clever.”
”Ask her then, and I will appreciate it and do something for you in return. Above all, Bess, don't mention this to a soul. If you do, I'll know it. In spite of the way I was treated I have a wish to do something for old Hamilton.” Leslie put on a becomingly serious expression.
”I won't tell,” promised the other girl. ”It is fine in you to feel so about Hamilton. I should call it true n.o.bility of spirit. You weren't understood in college, Leslie.”
”No, I wasn't.” Leslie sighed her make-believe regret. She had begun to enjoy the part she was now playing.
The two did not leave the tea room for over an hour after meeting. When they emerged to the street each was satisfied with what she had gained from the other. They had agreed to meet the next Wednesday at four o'clock at the Ivy.
”How are you getting along as a driver?” Leslie asked, not without a smile as she sighted Elizabeth's brightly painted car. It was reminiscent of last year's disasters.
”Oh, very well. I've always told you that I could keep the road if people would keep out of my way. Every near accident I've ever had has been the fault of someone else's poor driving.”
To this airy, self-exonerative statement Leslie made no response save by a twist of her loose-lipped mouth. She was very near derisive laughter.
Elizabeth, blandly complacent, did not notice her companion's peculiar expression.
”Let me give you one piece of advice, Bess,” she said brusquely. ”Get through with that giddy blue and tan car of yours. It is a dead give-away. One can recognize it a mile away. You think you are O. K. as a driver. You're not. Don't deceive yourself. You can't put it over me.
I know your style of driving and it's punk. Why don't you learn to drive?”
”Oh, I don't know,” Elizabeth bridled. ”I like my car blue. Blue is my color.” She ignored Leslie's fling at her driving abilities.
”It will be your finish some day; on that car, I mean. Get a black car.
You need a new one. This one is pa.s.se. You could have it painted black, but what's the use? Trade this one in on a new machine. Maybe you'll do better driving a new car.”
”Perhaps you are right. I think my father will let me have a new machine.” Possession of a brand new car appealed to vain Elizabeth.
”I _know_ I'm right. Suppose you were to have trouble along the pike as you had with that driver last year. If anyone reported you the tag that gave you away would be: 'The student I mean was driving a blue and buff car.'” Leslie imitated to perfection a high, complaining voice. ”With a black car you could simply scud away from trouble and no one would remember how you looked. What?”
”You are right, Leslie,” Elizabeth reluctantly conceded. ”I never before looked at the matter in that light.”
Leslie was tempted to reply, ”That was because you were too stupidly vain of your gay, blue ice wagon.” She refrained. Discretion warned her to allow matters to rest as they were. She had no desire to arouse resentment in the shallow, but tricky, junior. Her advice concerning a change of cars was sound and she knew it. While Leslie had neither liking nor faith in Elizabeth Walbert, she needed her services. She thought she had learned by past bitter experience precisely how to manage Elizabeth.
CHAPTER XII-FULL-FLEDGED PROMOTERS
”The very first thing to do, Robin, is to find out whether those properties used for boarding houses are for sale. There is no use in hoping for one little instant that Miss Susanna will ever relent enough to allow us ground on the campus for any new houses.” Marjorie spoke with finality.
”Queer, isn't it? Hamilton doesn't even own itself.” A flickering smile touched Robin's lips.
”Miss Susanna doesn't consider that she owns the college,” Marjorie explained in defense of her eccentric friend. ”Miss Humphrey said Mr.
Brooke Hamilton's will stipulated that she must sanction all building, improvements or important changes on the campus. The college has free right to choose everything else.”