It was most absorbing—deciding what Mary should wear to faculty parties, to college lectures, to the president’s dinners—“Just to think of being invited to dinner at Prexie’s!” said little Helen Adams in awed tones—“to house plays, to senior dramatics, and to all the other important functions of the college year.” It took a long time, too, because of course such delicate questions couldn’t be decided without seeing Mary in each dress, and getting “the exact combination of youth, beauty, and dignity that resulted,” as K., who explained that she was practising “school-ma’am English,” put it.
And then there were so many digressions. It was only two weeks since they had separated at Harding, but in the meanwhile a great deal seemed to have happened. Helen had accepted a position to teach English in her home high school. Eleanor was to join her family after the wedding for a hastily planned trip through the Canadian Rockies. Most exciting of all, Bob had actually established her fresh-air colony.
“It’s great,” she declared. “When I asked father if I might have some slum children out for two weeks he thought I was joking, so he said yes, and when those six dirty little ragamuffins suddenly dawned upon his vision last Saturday night he was furious. But I coaxed a little, and I got him to give the boys a Fourth of July oration, and when Jimmie Scheverin hopped up and solemnly thanked him for his unique and inspiring address, he gave in. He’s staying at home now to look after things while I’m gone. He said he guessed Wall Street could get along without him.”
“But if they’re only going to stay two weeks, Bob,” began Babe hastily, “I don’t see why——” She stopped in sudden confusion.
“Why what?” demanded Katherine curiously.
“Oh, why I’ve talked such a lot about it, she means,” explained Bob calmly. “When these leave there are others coming, Babe. There’s an unlimited supply of fresh-air children,—millions of them. That’s why we can’t keep Jimmie Scheverin more than two weeks, in spite of his enthusiasm for father’s oratory and father’s enthusiasm for Jimmie. So it’s no use trying to persuade me to go off on frivolous trips with you.”
“Where are you going, Babe?” asked Betty idly.
“Oh, I don’t know that I’m going anywhere,” said Babe, with a conscious little giggle. “Where are you?”
Betty explained that they were going to have a cottage for a month or two at some seaside place near New York—it hadn’t been decided when she left home, but father was going to write her. This information the B’s and Madeline received with solicitous and solemn interest. Indeed they asked Betty so many questions, that Mary finally declared her wedding was being shamefully neglected.
“I don’t know about the wedding,” said Mrs. Brooks, appearing at that minute, “but the groom is on the piazza, and six presents have come——”