CHAPTER XXV.
CONCLUSION.
It was a hot June day when little more than a month later, two commodious limousines keeping close together rolled along the last few miles of the Boston Post Road, coming from the South, and entered New Haven. How strange and yet familiar seemed the streets of the famous college city to the lithe, sunburned young fellow at the wheel of the foremost car. This way and that darted his glance, as the car passed Poli’s and many another place enshrined in memories and traditions, and he was kept continually busy pointing out landmarks to the dark olive-tinted beauty beside him.
It was still early in the day, for they had left New York at an early hour. But already the crush of automobiles coming and going in the streets was dense. And as they drew near a great green square resembling a public park, in the very heart of the business section, the traffic became so dense and slow-moving that the young fellow was compelled to give all his attention to his driving and to crawl, start, stop continually.
It was on his companion that the first sight of the noble group of buildings, wide-stretching amid stately elms, on the other side of the green square, dawned. She clutched his arm, while her eyes opened wide.
“Oh, Jack, how you must love it.”
“Uh-huh,” grunted Jack, casting one swift look toward the dear familiar buildings of Old Eli. “But don’t grab me like that again, please, or we’ll be crawling up on top of this car ahead.”
A few blocks farther, on a side street, Jack rolled into a garage already almost filled with cars and, while he was assisting Rafaela to alight, the second car drew in. From it stepped Mr. and Mrs. Temple and Mr. Hampton. From the first car Jack helped out Don Ferdinand and then Bob’s sister, Della. A slim, charming girl, with the springy step and quick yet graceful movements of a veteran tennis player, she well merited all the devotion which Frank Merrick showered on her. During Rafaela’s week in New York, shopping for her trousseau, a warm friendship had grown up between the two girls. Della’s chum, Marjorie, to whom big Bob had of late been paying marked attentions, was already in New Haven, and would meet them later.
“Now to find the fellows,” said Jack, when all were assembled. “And there’s no getting around the streets in a car in this crowd, which is why I brought you here. Come on, fall in line.”
Chattering gaily, the little party set out with Jack leading, Rafaela clinging to his arm.
“It’s rather old-fashioned, Mother, for a girl to lean on a man’s arm like this,” whispered Della in an undertone. “But I like it. I think she’s charming, don’t you?”