Slowly, Jacquette’s hand moved again to the Sigma Pi pin on her breast, unclasped it, and held it in her hand.
“I’ve made up my mind to do it,” she said.
CHAPTER XI
COMPROMISE
WHEN Jacquette came down to breakfast the next morning, looking pale in spite of her fresh pink and white gown, her grandfather stood at the foot of the stairs waiting, and, as she paused on the last step, he put both hands on her shoulders, and kissed her.
Not a word was said about the missing Sigma Pi pin, but Jacquette, glancing past him, saw the tremulous smile on Aunt Sula’s face, and knew that both these dearest people on earth understood how hard it had been for her to make the decision of the night before, and were keeping back the expression of their own gladness, for her sake. It touched her deeply to realise how much the gentle old man had really cared, during all the months when he had kept so silent, and the answering hug she gave him spoke her feeling as plainly as words.
After that they went to the table and chatted about the graduating exercises, Bobs’s prophecy, and Louise’s honours as lightly as if no such thing as resignation from a sorority had ever been thought of, until, just as they were rising from breakfast, Aunt Sula happened to say,
“Of course Uncle Malcolm and Aunt Fanny were disappointed that Quis didn’t take the scholarship, but it must have been easier for them to see Louise carry it off than anyone else. She’s such a pet with them, they couldn’t help being glad.”
Then Jacquette’s grandfather, slipping one arm around his little, dark-haired daughter, and the other around the tall girl he called “Goldilocks,” said slowly,
“I suppose the Markhams think they’re the proudest, happiest family in town this morning—but they’re not.”