There followed a busy twenty-four hours for Jean and her father. He insisted upon meeting all the girls Jean had written him about and he talked with them about the events of the year, for he was perfectly familiar with them through Jean's long, breezy, confidential letters which reached him every Friday regularly. He was introduced to Mrs. Thompson and some of the faculty; he was shown the college buildings, the rare volumes and art treasures in the library, but he wanted most to see the corridor where Elizabeth had fallen asleep. He considered that second only in interest to the roof-stairs where Jean had guarded the flag. He visited the "Pond," and Mrs. McAllister's house, and the society rooms and every other place Jean could find time to take him. She had promised Miss Hooper that her father and she would have afternoon tea with her at four o'clock and she proudly ushered him into the tiny reception-room at Wellington, which was for Miss Hooper's private use.
They talked about everything in general and Miss Hooper carefully avoided all mention of the European trip until Mr. Cabot said, "I think we ought not to stay much longer, Jean, for you know I must take the 6.17 train for Boston, so hadn't we better tell Miss Hooper what we have decided about Europe?"
"Yes, Father, but suppose you tell her."
"All right, dear; I'm very glad to do so. I'm very grateful to you, Miss Hooper, for the great interest you seem to have taken in my motherless little girl. She's a good girl, though, and I don't blame any one for taking an interest in her. If she wants to go to Europe with you for the summer, I tell her she can go, although we'll miss her terribly out home. She's the light of our house, you know, and it's going to be pretty lonesome without her, but I want her to see the world and make the most of herself, for nothing but the best will suit us. We're pretty particular, that's why we sent her east, and we want her to stay till you've given her all you've got to give and she feels she's learned enough to come back to California and take care of us. She said you wanted some one else to go with you and she does, too, and when I asked her who it was to be, it didn't take long for her to say 'Elizabeth Fairfax.' So I'm going to send her along with Jean, and I want you to do the same for both of them. Give them whatever you think is best for them and plenty of it. Jean doesn't want Elizabeth to know anything about it yet, for she's planning a surprise, but I'm telling you now so that you can go ahead with your plans and be ready to start the day after Tom's commencement. He's counting on having Jean there that day, for she's got to represent the family, so I shouldn't want to disappoint him; but after June twentieth, the sooner the better. Wish I could go with you, but I can't leave the business this year.
"Just one more cup of tea, thank you, and we'll be going. This is the best tea I've had since I can remember. Have you learned how to make it, Jean?"
"Yes, Father, I can make tea, but not like Miss Hooper's. Every one says she makes the best tea in college. Now we must go," and after a rather protracted leave-taking they almost ran for the train.
As Miss Hooper was washing her tea-dishes and putting them away, she hummed a little song to herself and said, "No wonder Jean Cabot is such a splendid girl. How can she help it with such a father?"
And as Jean and her father hastened to the little station, Mr. Cabot said to Jean, "Mighty fine woman, that Miss Hooper, mighty fine woman. Almost makes me want to study mathematics myself."
In a few moments he was on the train, waving good-by to Jean, and if she had not had this great new happiness in her heart it would have been very hard to let him go back home without her, but she smiled bravely through her tears and walked back to Merton apparently as happy as ever.