"Why, what under the sun do you want, Happy?" she asked, going into her own room and debarring all the others whose curiosity was at the snapping point. When they emerged Happy's face was brimful of glee, but Mrs. Harold warned:
"Mind the promise is only conditional: If Polly says 'yes' well and good, but if you let the secret out you and I will be enemies forevermore."
CHAPTER XIII
THE MASQUERADERS' SHOW
It was the night of the Masqueraders' Show. The auditorium was packed, for Annapolis was thronged with the relatives of the graduating class as well as hundreds of visitors.
Among others were Polly Howland's mother, her married sister Constance, and her brother-in-law, Harry Hunter, now an ensign. They had been married at Polly's home in Montgentian, N.J., almost a year ago. Harry Hunter had graduated from the Academy the year Happy and his class were plebes, and had been the two-striper of the company of which Wheedles was now the two-striper. His return to Annapolis with his lovely young wife was the signal for all manner of festive doings, and it need hardly be added that Mrs. Harold's party had a row of seats which commanded every corner of the stage. Mr. Stewart and Peggy were of the party, of course, and anything radiating more perfect happiness than Peggy's face that night it would have been hard to find. Was not Daddy Neil beside her, and in her private opinion the finest looking officer present? Again and again as she sat next him she slipped her hand into his to give it a rapturous little squeeze. Nor was "Daddy Neil" lacking in appreciation of the favors of the gods. The young girl sitting at his side, in spite of her modesty and utter lack of self-consciousness, was quite charming enough to make any parent's heart thrill with pride. With her exceptional tact, Mrs. Harold had won Harrison's favor, Harrison pronouncing her: "A real, born lady, more like your own ma than any one you've met up with since you lost her; SHE was one perfect lady if one ever lived."
It had been rather a delicate position for Mrs. Harold to assume, that of unauthorized guardian and counsellor to this young girl who had come into her life by such an odd chance, but Mrs. Harold seemed to be born to mother all the world, and subtly Harrison recognized the fact that Peggy was growing beyond her care and guidance, and the thousand little amenities of the social world in which she would so soon move and have her being. For more than a year this knowledge had been a source of disquietude to the good soul who for eight years had guarded her little charge so faithfully, and she had often confided to Mammy Lucy:
"That child is getting clear beyond ME. She's growin' up that fast it fair takes my breath away, and she knows more right now in five minutes than I ever knew in my whole life, though 'twouldn't never in this world do to let her suspicion it."
Consequently, once having sized up Mrs. Harold, and fully decided as the months rolled by that she "weren't no meddlesome busybody, a-trying to run things," she was only too glad to ask her advice in many instances, and Peggy's toilet this evening was one of them. Poor old Harrison had begun to find the intricacies of a young girl's toilet a trifle too complex for her, and had gone to Mrs. Harold for advice. The manner in which it was given removed any lingering vestige of doubt remaining in Harrison's soul, and tonight Peggy was a vision of girlish loveliness in a soft pink crepe meteor made with a baby waist, the round neck frilled with the softest lace, the little puffed sleeves edged with it, and a "Madam Butterfly" sash and bow of the crepe encircling her lithe waist. Her hair was drawn loosely back and tied a la pompadour with a bow of pink satin ribbon, another gathering in the rich, soft abundance of it just below the neck.
By chance she sat between Mrs. Howland and her father, Mrs. Harold was
next Mrs. Howland, with Mr. Harold, Constance and Snap just beyond, and
Polly at the very end of the seat, though why she had slipped there Mrs.
Howland could not understand.