So they intercepted the president when chapel was over, and the president insisted upon personally conducting so distinguished a financier as Jasper Jones Morton over his domain. Jasper Jones Morton beamed upon the president and upon every inch of the domain, and he made ostentatious notes of the president’s unostentatious hints regarding the needs of the college.
He went over these later, as he devoured an early luncheon by the fire in the Tally-ho. “Now, shall I build them a library annex, or a greenhouse, or a dormitory?” he demanded. “I couldn’t give him any idea what to expect until I’d seen you.”
“I wish you could build a dormitory for girls who can’t pay the regular price for board,” said Betty impulsively. “They have to live so far off and in such horrid little places——”
“Exactly.” Mr. Morton cut her short. “Don’t I know? Have I forgotten the holes I’ve boarded in? Now of course I’ll put up that kind of dormitory, with an endowment to cover the expense of running it. You’ve got nerve, Miss B. A. That gift will cost at least twice what the others would.”
Betty only laughed, for she was very sure that Mr. Morton did not care what his gift to Harding cost. Besides she was too happy about the Tally-ho’s rent to worry about anything else.
“Now if you have that decided, please tell me how you managed Mr. Harrison,” she begged. “I may have to manage him some time myself, when you’re too far away——”
“No you won’t,” Mr. Morton interrupted with decision. “I have just one rule, Miss B. A., for the treatment of scoundrels: Eliminate them. I applied the rule this morning in the simplest way that occurred to me, by buying this property.”
“So you’re our landlord now!” gasped Betty.
“I am,” Mr. Morton assured her. “Just as soon as the college closes I want this tea-room to close too, so that I can install decent up-to-date systems of lighting and heating and make any other improvements that you or the artistic young lady named—thank you, yes, Ayres, can suggest. Remember I hate half-way measures. I want my building to be the finest quarters for a tea-shop in the whole U.S. Then I guess, when you are tired of running the place—or I might say anxious to try your hand at running some lucky young man—why, you won’t have any trouble in finding a successor.”
“Oh, Mr. Morton,” sighed Betty reproachfully, “you shouldn’t have done it. Really you shouldn’t.”