CHAPTER X—HAMILTON ARMS AND ITS OWNER
“Well, of all things!” Marjorie could not get over her undiluted amazement. For a second it struck her that she might again be the victim of a hoax. Perhaps an unkindly-minded person wished her to essay a call on Miss Susanna, thinking she might receive a sound snubbing. She shook her head at this canny suspicion. The phrasing was unmistakably Miss Susanna’s. She doubted also whether anyone had seen her that day with the old lady. Only a few cars had passed them before they had turned into the private road. These had contained persons not from the college. Outside the Lookouts, only Katherine, Leila and Vera knew of her encounter with Miss Susanna. She had not thought of keeping it a secret. She now made mental note to tell the girls not to mention it to anyone.
This resolve brought with it the annoying cogitation that the girls would wonder why she suddenly wished the matter kept secret. Nor could she explain to them without violating Miss Hamilton’s request. She could readily understand the latter’s point of view. Miss Susanna could not be blamed for taking it. Marjorie could only wish the old lady knew how honorable and discreet her chums were. She decided she would endeavor to make her hostess acquainted with that truth during her call.
She came to the conclusion that she could not pledge her close friends to secrecy regarding her recent adventure until after she had been to Hamilton Arms and talked with its eccentric owner. Miss Susanna would no doubt be displeased to learn that she had already mentioned their meeting to others. She would have to be told of it, nevertheless.
Marjorie’s next problem was to slip quietly away on Thursday afternoon without saying where she was going. That would not be difficult, provided none of the Lookouts happened to desire her company on some particular jaunt or merry-making. An indefinite refusal on her part would bring down on her a volley of mischievous questions.
“I’ll have to keep clear of the girls on Thursday,” she ruminated, with a half vexed smile. “I’ll have to put on the gown I’m going to wear to tea in the morning and wear it all day so as not to arouse their curiosity. That’s a nuisance. I’d like to wear one of my best frocks and I can’t on account of chemistry. I’ll wear that organdie frock Jerry likes so much; the one with the yellow rosebud in it. It is not fussy. If it is cold or rainy I can wear a long coat over it. I hope it’s a nice day. I can wear my picture hat. It goes so well with that gown. I can slip it out of the Hall without them noticing if I swing it on my arm. I hope to goodness I don’t ruin my organdie during chemistry. I feel like a conspirator.”
Marjorie chuckled faintly as she rose from her chair, letter in hand. She tucked the letter away in the top drawer of her chiffonier with the optimistic opinion that it would not be very long before she could frankly tell her chums of its contents.
Fortune favored her on Thursday. She awoke with a stream of brilliant sunshine in her face. She rejoiced that the day was fair and hoped Miss Susanna would suggest a walk about the grounds. Then she remembered the request the latter had made, and smiled at her own stupidity. A walk about the grounds would probably be the last thing Miss Susanna would suggest.
As it happened, Jerry had made an engagement to go to Hamilton with Helen. Ronny had a theme in French to write, which she said would take her spare time both in the afternoon and evening. Lucy and Katherine would be in the Biological Laboratory until dinner time, and Leila and Vera were invited to a tea given by a senior to ten of her class-mates. These were the only ones to be directly interested in her movements. To Jerry’s invitation, “Want to go to town with Helen and I this afternoon?” she had replied, “No, Jeremiah,” in as casual a tone as she could command, and that had ended the matter.
Marjorie was doubly careful in the Chemical Laboratory that afternoon and walked from it this time with no disfiguring stains on her dainty organdie frock. The letter had named the hour for her visit as five o’clock. This gave her ample time to return to the Hall, re-coif her curly hair and add a pretty satin sash of wide pale yellow ribbon to her costume. The absence of Jerry was, for once, welcome. She had a free hand to put the finishing touches to her toilet. It appealed to a certain sense of dignity, latent within her, to be able to quietly adjust her hat before the mirror and walk openly out of Wayland Hall. Marjorie inwardly hated anything connected with secrecy, yet it seemed to her she was always becoming involved in something which demanded it.