“Now read the rest of your letters,” Queenie advised her tenderly.
“They’re all from college girls,” she said, “except one—from Ethel Todd, one of our old scouts. I recognize their handwriting.”
Queenie busied herself with the flowers, changing the water in the old ones, filling other vases for the new bouquets that had just arrived. When she had finished, Marjorie tossed her letters aside and settled back in her pillows.
“Queenie, here’s one for you—I found it under the quilt,” she remarked. “Looks like a man’s handwriting!”
The girl blushed and took the letter with feigned indifference.
“It’s from Mr. Richards,” she said calmly. “He often sends me lists of books—and things like that.”
“Oh, I see!” nodded the other girl, restraining a smile.
Queenie opened the letter deliberately, but as she started to read it, a look of happiness crept over her face.
“He wants me to meet him in town tomorrow,” she announced, as she read on, “and take lunch with him—and—and——Miss Wilkinson, may I go?”
“You certainly may! And what’s more, you can pick out the best looking suit and hat I own to wear! Why, it’ll be almost like going out myself to have my clothes get an airing.”