“Yes, it’s Vera’s. Have you noticed? My eyes are turning green with envy of Midget,” Leila declared darkly, then showed her strong white teeth in a roguish smile. “Her father sent her this dream of a car from Paris. He’s been painting at his Paris studio since early last spring. The roadster came the week after we left Hamilton. I was with Vera in their New York house. We were trying to decide what we should do to amuse ourselves until time for our trip here. Then the car came. We were so proud of it! We wanted the world to see it and us in it. We went on a motor trip to the Adirondacks. We stayed for two weeks with Vera’s aunt at her camp. She was horrified because we came in the car without a chaperon. And I must tell you the truth! Neither of us remembered there was any such person to be considered when we started out with the car.” Leila threw back her head and laughed. “We didn’t have one going back, either.” Vera had caught what Leila was saying. “Luckily for us, my father thinks Leila and I can be trusted to take care of ourselves. We motored back to New York City and from there to Hamilton.” “So we did. And it’s here we are stopping again, like a set of statues in the sun, when we might be on our way to the Ivy.” By common consent the four had again grouped themselves on the walk opposite the roadster. “Come with me. Don’t be dwadling here when there’s news to be told and news to be heard,” Leila rallied. She motioned Marjorie to the car and ceremoniously opened a rear door for her. “Right-o!” Robin exclaimed, preparing to take the front seat of the roadster beside Vera. “I’m simply perishing for a real opportunity to talk. It seems ages and ages since college closed. Yet it is only a month. I have scads of things to tell you girls. Phil wanted to come with me. We had the trip all planned and her trunk was partly packed. Then three girl cousins descended upon the Moores for a visit. Poor Phil had to stay home and help entertain them. I’ll tell you more about her when we are at the Ivy.” Robin turned in the seat to say this much as Vera started the car. As the roadster sped away from the station drive and swung into Herndon Avenue, Hamilton’s main thoroughfare, Marjorie glanced slowly from one side of the street to the other. A happy little smile played upon her lips. Next to Sanford, her home town, she loved the staid college town of Hamilton. She loved it for its wide ornamental streets and stately green-lawned residences. Like all else which bore the name of Hamilton it seemed in some strange elusive way to partake of the fine character of its founder, Brooke Hamilton.