“Well, he has pleasant eyes and a good face and nice, gentle manners—and he doesn’t eat with his knife. Just after I found him I began to tremble for fear he mightn’t be the kind of father we’d want for our Sallie; but he is—just exactly. Perhaps he isn’t one of those terribly strong characters like Daniel Webster or Oliver Cromwell or John Knox—but who’d want a father like that! But I’m sure he’ll be a comfortable person to live with and Cousin George—the cowboy, you know—likes him; and Father says George is mighty particular about his friends. And of course he’ll pay up everything Sallie owes this school and give her everything she needs.”
At dinner time that night, Sallie’s father sat in the place of honor at Doctor Rhodes’s table. And Sallie, such a radiant Sallie, with her head high and her eyes bright, sat beside him, listening hungrily to his words.
And when Sallie’s clear young voice was lifted in song at the Commencement Day exercises, it didn’t come from behind a tree. Lovely Sallie didn’t need to hide behind a tree or to burrow down in the long grass; for her Commencement Day gown was quite as new and beautiful as anybody’s and certainly no other girl wore a happier expression.
“But it’s her father she’s the gladdest about,” explained Mabel. “She just loves him.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Bettie, who was sitting on her suitcase on the baggage strewn veranda. “It wouldn’t be much fun to go to Texas with a father you didn’t love. And isn’t it great! He’s going to let her visit Henrietta in Lakeville in August and go back to school with her afterwards so we aren’t going to lose every bit of our Sallie after all.”
“And,” said Jean, “Mabel is going to spend a week with me and then her own people will be home. And there’s Charles coming now to take us all to the station. Good-by, old Highland Hall. You’re going to be a big, lonesome place without us.”
“A year is a funny thing,” commented Bettie, with her last backward glance at the tall building. “While it’s happening, it seems to be a million miles long; and then, the very next minute, it’s all gone.”
“By this time tomorrow,” breathed Marjory, “we’ll be home; and all the days will have wings. But Mabel, what in the world are you doing?”
“I’m—kuk—crying,” gulped Mabel.
“You funny old baby,” laughed Henrietta. “You’re too tender hearted.”