“No—not lately. I didn’t think it was worth while. Marjorie’s having too good a time to care for letters from me.”
“That’s just where you’re mistaken, John,” said Mrs. Hadley, kindly. “If I were you I’d write. Girls love to get letters when they are far away from home.”
“But Marjorie has always seemed rather indifferent. I guess it’s because she’s so sure of me. If I could only make her jealous by being interested in some other girl! But it just seems as if I can’t!”
“Well, you have plenty of time, John, so I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” answered his mother, consolingly. “But I would write to her once in a while.”
Early the next morning John was up, anxious not to lose any more of his visit than necessary in sleep. He could sleep in the city, where he had nothing else to do in the evenings; but here he wanted to enjoy the fresh air as much as possible.
He was surprised to find his mother’s guest in the dining-room when he came down stairs. She was setting the table, and, as she bent over the blue and white breakfast dishes, she made a pretty picture. She smiled slightly when Mrs. Hadley presented her son.
“And now I think breakfast is ready,” she said. “Dorothy, you and John sit down, and I’ll bring the things in.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” objected John. “I’ll bring them in, myself! It will be great sport to be waiter. What comes first?”
“Cantaloupes,” replied Mrs. Hadley, obediently submitting to his orders.
Although John did his best to be lively and entertaining during the meal, he found his efforts falling strangely flat. Miss Snyder seemed unconscious of his conversation, and only came out of her reverie when he addressed to her a direct question. Finally he gave it up, and talked entirely to his mother.