“And now to give you something to dress up in.” Loosing Veronica’s hand, Marjorie crossed the room and threw open the door of a large dress closet. “Yours to command,” she offered with a hospitable gesture. Pressing a button in the wall the wardrobe sprang alight, disclosing the finery of girlhood in all its rainbow hues.
“Oh, you choose a garment for me to luxuriate in,” Ronny returned. “I don’t know the whys and wherefores of your clothes.”
Marjorie peered thoughtfully at her array of gowns and selected a half-fitted negligee of old-rose silk. A moment’s search in a cunningly contrived shoe cupboard at one side of the closet, and she held up quilted satin slippers to match.
“Thank you, hospitable one.” Veronica was already clear of her dark blue bengaline frock and reaching for the silken comfort of the negligee. Her wet pumps soon removed, she donned the soft slippers and settled back in a willow rocker with a sigh of satisfaction. “I can’t begin to tell you how comfortable I am,” she said. “I had to change cars this morning before eight, and in the rain. All I had to console me was the thought that I would be in Sanford before noon. God-mother doesn’t know I am east. I didn’t write her because I was anxious to give her a surprise. I’ll go to see her tomorrow. I wanted to come to you first. I never had much chance to be here when I was ‘Miss Archer’s servant.’”
Ronny’s tones rippled with amused laughter. An answering smile rose to Marjorie’s lips. Memory recalled the sedate, reserved girl she had known as Veronica Browning. She was now beginning to glimpse the real Ronny; brilliant, high-spirited, sure of herself, with the independence of those who have known the bitterness of poverty.
“You are so different, Ronny,” she said. “I mean from last year. Once in a great while I used to see flashes of you as you are now. I remember the night you danced that wonderful butterfly number at the Campfire. You seemed happy and so much more like a real girl than as I saw you in school each day. You are like a butterfly who is so glad to be free of the chrysalis.”
“How nice in you to compare me to anything so beautiful as a butterfly. I am glad to be free of the part I played last year. I am not sorry I played it, though. Is Mignon La Salle going to Hamilton College?” she asked, with an abrupt change of subject. “I hope not. I think I can never forgive her for the trouble she made you. I never minded in the least the way she treated me.”
“No; Mignon is going to Smith College. She is all right now, Ronny,” Marjorie earnestly assured. “When she faced about last spring she truly meant it.”
“You deserve the credit for having hauled her through,” was Ronny’s blunt opinion. “I never would have had the patience. A good many times last year I was tempted to tell you who I really was. I did not care to have the other girls know, and Jerry was so curious about me. I was afraid it might make trouble for you if you knew and they didn’t. The Lookouts would have been likely to ask you about me. Then, if I had pledged you to secrecy, it would have meant your refusal to answer any questions concerning me. This year——”
Veronica broke off in the old way which had always been so baffling to Marjorie. For an instant a vague sense of disappointment visited her. It was as though Ronny had once again suddenly dropped the curtain of mystery between them.