“Makes me think of last summer when we were on the ranch,” remarked John to Marjorie.
The waitress was placing their dessert before them.
“How wonderful!” cried Marie Louise. “Fresh strawberries and cream! It’s just the right dessert for this luncheon, and this place. Indeed, you have chosen well, John.”
“And it’s all right for me to say that,” she added, in an aside to Marjorie.
“Have you noticed the china?” asked that person. “That is one of the things we will have to give some thought to.”
“Then you still hope to find a place?” said Marie Louise.
“Oh, yes. John has a plan in mind. He’ll tell us when he is ready, I guess.”
“It’s no secret,” said John. “I have in mind a place on the Lincoln Highway just above the park. In my estimation it’s ideally situated; for all automobilists entering the park from that locality have to use that road. It belongs to a friend of mine, Edward Scott, who is in Europe. We grew up together—went to the same schools when we were kids; and while I was at prep school, they moved from our neighborhood because his father built the house I spoke of. Of course we didn’t see much of each other while I was away at school—Ned went to a prep here in this city and entered the University of Pennsylvania when I entered Princeton. I wanted him to go with me, but his father had his mind set on Penn, because he had gone there. Even while we were apart all that time, we kept in close touch—wrote to each other at least once a week—and still do, though he is in England.
“Well, to make a long story short, towards the end of his freshman year, Ned’s father died; and about two weeks after that, his mother followed him. The blow was almost too much for poor Ned. He went back to college, however, and his maiden-aunt came to live with him. She was only there a little over a month, and she too died. He couldn’t stand that house any longer; so he packed up, stored all the furniture, closed the house, and went to Europe for the summer. In the fall he entered Oxford. The last time he wrote he said he liked it so well he didn’t know when he would come back. Not until he completes his course, at any rate; and after that he hopes to travel for a while. Luckily, his father left him piles of money. He has nothing to come home for; he’s the last of his family.”
“How tragic!” exclaimed Marjorie. “Poor fellow!”