The smiles broke out on Jacquette’s face again.
“Don’t you worry about Bobs!” she said. “You’ll see that he’s going to bring the belle of the evening here, to-night. Come on, Quis, we mustn’t stay out here, alone.”
There was a mystified look on Marquis’s face as he followed Jacquette back into the jolly crowd, and just at that moment he heard the shout, “Bobs! Here’s Bobs, at last!”
Everybody tried to get into the hall at once, while Bobs lingered at the door to brush the snow from the slight figure at his side, and Marquis, following the others, drew himself to his full height and peered over the heads and shoulders, trying to discover who it really was that had come with Bobs. When at last he did catch a glimpse, a pleased smile broke over his face, and, seeing a chance at another doorway he managed to slip through to where Jacquette was already welcoming her guests.
“Mademoiselle! This is fine!” he exclaimed, in honest pleasure. “I didn’t know you were coming! And Bobs, old fellow, how are you? Isn’t it great to be home?” Then—under his breath to Jacquette, “I’ll get even with you, young lady before the mistletoe’s down! Bess Bartlett, indeed!”
“But look up at them, dearie!” Mademoiselle was saying to Jacquette, in mimic awe. “Isn’t it wonderful how big and beautiful they grow in just a few years at college?”
“Not so beautiful as they grow at Marston in the same length of time,” Bobs answered her gallantly, but Mademoiselle, following his unconscious glance, gave a teasing smile, as she whispered,
“Quite right, lambkin. A non-sorority high-school course is a great beautifier.”
“Oh, Mademoiselle, at your old tricks!” he laughed back. “Always knowing more than you’ve been told!”
“Now, then! Now, then, Bobs and Marquis!” came Uncle Mac’s big voice from the parlour doorway. “No more time for falling on each other’s necks. As soon as Mademoiselle is ready, you’re to follow me into this room. There’s important business to transact.”