“I mean,” declared Jim earnestly, “that I’m a self-sacrificing person, if ever there was one. I’ve deliberately cut myself out of days and weeks of good times here in Harding——”
“Oh, Jim!” Betty flashed him a merry smile. “Please don’t be silly. You know you’re fond of your work and anxious to go where it takes you, and just puffed up with pride to think that you’ve beaten the time limit your firm had set. Why, Jim, Thanksgiving is only four weeks off!”
“I know it,” gloomily.
“And the list of Morton Hall girls isn’t half made out. The matron will manage the moving-in, I suppose—arranging furniture and engaging maids, and all. When can the moving-in begin, Jim?”
“Saturday before Thanksgiving,” still gloomily.
“We must have a grand housewarming,” Betty declared. “The B.C.A.’s have decided on that already, but of course Madeline couldn’t have an inspiration till she knew the date, so she could think of something appropriate. A Thanksgiving housewarming will certainly be appropriate for that house. You’ll stay for it, won’t you, Jim?”
“Thanks,” darkly.
Betty considered, frowning absently. “If it’s a costume party,—and most of Madeline’s nicest ideas are—why, of course, you probably can’t come. That will be a perfect shame, after the way you’ve worked. We’ll have to have another special housewarming for you and Mr. Morton.”
“Thanks awfully.”
Jim’s horse seemed to be giving him a great deal of trouble. It had edged to the extreme other side of the road and was curveting and plunging nervously. Betty turned Queen to the other side after him.