Merry procured from Mr. Bently the paper and envelope, while Bob willingly loaned his fountain pen. A glance at the big, loud-ticking clock on the wall showed that there was still twenty minutes before Mrs. Bently would be ready for them.
Merry thoughtfully left Jane alone, nor did she ask what her friend had written when, at last, she joined the others, who were seated in the cane-bottomed chairs on the front veranda of the inn.
The letter Jane had given to Mr. Bently, asking him to place it with the rest of the mail for the Packard ranch.
The boys sprang up when Jane appeared, and Bob, being nearest, offered his chair with a flourish. Merry glanced anxiously at her friend, but the beautiful face betrayed nothing. “Thank you,” Jane replied with a smile at Bob, who had perched upon the rail near. Then, to Dan, she said: “Brother, I have such a nice letter from Dad and one from grandmother, but best of all is the check in Aunt Jane’s letter, because now I can repay the debt that I owe our dear, wonderful Meg.”
Before she could say more, Mrs. Bently appeared in the doorway, her face rosy, her spotless blue apron wound about her hands. “The birthday lunch is ready to be dished up,” she announced. Instantly Bob was on his feet, making a deep bow before Jane and holding out his arm as he inquired, “May I have the great pleasure of escorting the guest of honor?”
Gerald, taking the cue, bowed before Merry and Julie, laughing up at Dan, said ungrammatically but happily: “Me’n you are all that’s left.” The tall boy caught the little girl by one hand as he joyfully replied: “Mrs. Tom Thumb and The Living Skeleton will end the procession.”
Jane, smiling over her shoulder, said rebukingly, “Don’t call yourself that, brother. You’re not nearly as thin as you were.” When the dining-room was reached, the young people were surprised and pleased. “Say, boy!” was Bob’s comment “Mrs. Bently, you’ve decked it out in grand style.”
The table to which they had been led was indeed resplendent with the best of everything that the good woman possessed. On a real damask table-cloth was glass that sparkled, while a pink rose pattern wound about plates and cups. “They’re my wedding presents,” the comely woman told them as she beamed her pleasure. “I never use them except for extra occasions like Christmas and——”
“Birthdays,” Gerald put in. Then, after the boys had moved the chairs out for the girls and all were seated, they glanced about the room. Two cowboys were at a table in a corner, and Jane recognized that one of them was from the Packard ranch. “He’ll take back their mail,” she thought, “and so this very day Jean Sawyer will know all. He will never, never want to see me after he reads what I have written.”
The menu for that birthday lunch was indeed an excellent one, but the children, who sat next to each other, were eagerly anticipating the dessert. “What do you ’spect it will be?” Gerald inquired softly, and Julie whispered back: “I know what I wish it was. It begins with I. C.”