“All right, go ahead. I’ll see that you two sit next to each other tonight. Of course that’s the only reason why you would wish to!”
“Naturally,” agreed Marjorie, with a blush.
But it did seem as if it were the thing closest to her heart, for that evening, as soon as the party was seated at the dinner table, and the conversation lost its general tone, Marjorie mentioned the matter to John. He listened intently to her story, regarding it seriously, secretly flattered that she confided in him, and turned to him for advice.
“What do Mr. and Mrs. Andrews think of it?” he asked, when she had finished.
“I don’t believe they have given it much thought,” she replied. “They just praised Daisy for her kindness, and I think, secretly smiled at her impetuosity.”
“It is a big job,” remarked John, deliberately. “Especially if the mother dies. It means support the child until she is able to earn her own living, and that ought not to be until she receives a fair education. It comes at a hard time for Daisy, just when she needs a start herself.”
“Oh, Daisy can’t possibly do it herself! The senior patrol must come to the rescue. We’ve got to make some money somehow!”
“What chance is there of your getting together?” asked John.
“Very little—we’re awfully scattered. Lily, Florence, and Mae are here in New York in the summer; Doris will be married and be living in Philadelphia I guess, since Roger comes from there; and the rest of us—Alice, Daisy, Ethel and I are all scattered in small towns.”
“What was that you just said?” cried John. “About Doris and Roger being engaged?” He stopped eating, and looked at Marjorie in amazement.