“Virg, won’t you be the proudest ever to see your name printed after your story?” Then turning to the lad, Babs prattled, “Oh, Benjy, be sure to read Virg’s story. It’s about the desert and it’s the best ever.”
“I know that I shall enjoy it,” the boy rose as he spoke, for, around the circling drive a cutter, drawn by a high-stepping horse appeared. “Oh, isn’t it a beauty—Virg, see how proudly it holds its head? Wouldn’t you and Megsy and I love to have horses like that one out on the desert?”
“I wouldn’t give my Comrade for any horse on this earth,” Virginia replied. “He saved my brother’s life, you know.”
Then when the good-bys had been said, and Virginia had departed, Barbara lingered to say earnestly, “If you have news that saddens you, Benjy, come right over and see me. You haven’t an own sister and so let’s pretend that I am one.” The lad gave the girl’s hand a grateful pressure.
“Thank you, Barbara,” he said, “I feel heaps more hopeful, somehow, that I did.”
Betsy had planned teasing Babs unmercifully, but, when she saw the thoughtful, almost sad expression on the girl’s face when she came upstairs she changed her mind and kissed her lovingly instead.
CHAPTER XVI
A SPRING RIDE
It was nearly the middle of March before a big bundle of printed Manuscript Magazines appeared at Vine Haven. Dean Craig did not bring it himself as the melting snow and frequent rains had made the cross country roads almost impassible, and so he had sent it by express, via Boston, which greatly lengthened its journey. Micky O’Brien was sent to the village to obtain it and great was the excitement in the library of the seminary when Miss Torrence assembled all the girls who were chiefly interested to be present at the official opening of the bundle.
“Oh Virg, doesn’t your name look perfectly scrumptious on the cover? ‘The Manuscript Magazine, edited by Virginia Davis!’ Wouldn’t I feel all spiffed up if my name were in it anywhere, even in the teeniest, tiniest print way off in a corner somewhere.”
Miss Torrence smiled indulgently at the girl who felt that English as the King spoke it, was not expressive enough to embody the sentiments of an American school girl. “Keen stuff! Oh, I mean it’s a very nice magazine.” Betsy actually looked embarrassed, but Miss Torrence was at that moment saying to Virginia, “You wanted one copy to send to Eleanor Pettes, didn’t you? And one for Winona?”