Gale tucked her books under her arm and started down the steps of Happiness House.
"Gale! Wait!" Adele Stevens called, falling into step beside her.
"Even seniors go to classes sometimes," she smiled. "Nice morning, isn't it?"
"Very," Gale agreed.
"Last night was a nice night too," the senior said with twinkling eyes.
Gale laughed.
"Yes. The sound of a million bells always lends enchantment to an autumn night."
Adele laughed softly.
"You and Phyllis have been good sports, Gale. Don't think we haven't noticed."
"We've gotten fun out of it too," Gale replied.
"You are the kind of girls we want in Happiness House," Adele said warmly. Then she hesitated. "But—Gale, we are sorry for some things."
"Freshmen expect a lot," Gale said with a small smile.
"I mean—such as Marcia Marlette," Adele added.
"Oh."
Gale's expression shifted slightly as she looked across the campus, where autumn leaves stirred in the breeze.
"Adele," she said after a moment, "don't think the things she does have the approval of the whole sorority."
"She is one of our members," Adele continued seriously. "We cannot exactly remove her. And she will not leave on her own."
"She knows we disapprove of her behavior."
"This house is Happiness House," Adele said firmly. "We want to keep it that way. No quarrels. No bitterness. Only friendship that lasts beyond college."
Gale nodded.
"I understand."
Adele smiled gently.
"Good. I must go now. Remember, Gale—you and Phyllis are exactly the kind of girls we want here."
Gale watched her disappear into the academic building.
Then she slowly walked toward her own class.
She liked Adele Stevens.
"Was our noble president giving you advice?" a voice asked dryly.
Gale glanced sideways.
Marcia Marlette was walking beside her.
"Yes," Gale said simply.
"I thought so," Marcia laughed. "Freshmen always admire Adele. They all try to be like her."
Gale stopped.
"I have to go," she said quickly, and turned into the nearest building.
Inside, she stood in the shadows until Marcia passed out of sight.
Then she continued on alone.
College life, Gale thought, was becoming more interesting every day.
She wanted to make something of herself.
And more and more, she found herself thinking seriously about medicine.
Not nursing—
But becoming a doctor.
The idea was met with light laughter by some of the girls.
They didn't take women doctors very seriously.
But Gale did not care.
She had already chosen her path.
Pre-medical work.
A first step forward.
Her favorite subject was Chemistry.
Professor Lukens welcomed questions and often stayed after class to discuss experiments.
Gale frequently remained after lectures.
Sometimes Doctor Norcot joined them, and the three would talk for long periods until others arrived.
On one such occasion, the Dean and Professor Powell entered the room.
"I came for you," the Dean said to the Doctor. "My secretary has suddenly fallen ill. She is in the infirmary."
"I'll come at once," Doctor Norcot replied.
Gale gathered her books and headed toward the door.
The Dean joined her there.
"Gale, I haven't seen you in nearly a week."
"No," Gale agreed.
The three of them walked down the steps together.
They paused outside in the fresh air.
Gale was speaking with the Dean when—
"Look out!" Doctor Norcot shouted suddenly.
She shoved them sharply aside.
A crash of glass shattered the air.
Something dark splattered across the stone steps.
Gale stared in shock.
"A test tube—acid!"
Doctor Norcot bent quickly over it, then rushed back inside.
Gale's voice trembled.
"It could have burned us—badly."
"No one would do such a thing," she said quickly.
The Dean looked upward.
Her expression was tight.
"Perhaps it was thrown."
"Thrown?" Gale gasped. "But—why would anyone—"
Her words trailed off.
The Dean said nothing more.
But she looked pale—almost shaken.
Doctor Norcot returned moments later.
"There was no one in the room," she said firmly. "The chemicals are locked away."
The Dean gave a quick glance toward Gale.
Doctor Norcot returned a small, knowing look.
"Shall we go on to the infirmary?" she asked quietly.
A few minutes later, Gale crossed the campus toward the hockey field.
But her mind was no longer on class.
That night, she told Phyllis everything.
"Do you think the Dean believes it was thrown?" Phyllis asked nervously.
"She said so," Gale replied.
"And remember—the canoe rope was cut."
"And now this," Phyllis murmured. "Someone really doesn't like the new Dean."
"Do you know what happened to her secretary?" Gale asked.
"No," Phyllis said. "But you're going to find out, aren't you?"
"Yes," Gale said firmly. "I think all of it is connected."
Phyllis leaned back.
"Ah—Mystery at Briarhurst."
"But it could be coincidence," she added.
"I don't think so," Gale said.
"A rope doesn't cut itself."
"And acid doesn't fall out of a locked closet by accident."