When finally she emerged from the Hall, she did not follow the main drive but cut across the campus, making for the western entrance. Reaching the highway, she kept a sharp lookout for passing automobiles. She laughed to herself as she thought of how disconcerting it would be after all her pains to run squarely into Jerry and Helen. The latter had just been the lucky recipient of a limousine, long promised her by her father, and she and Jerry were trying it out that afternoon.
It was ten minutes to five when, without having met anyone save two or three campus acquaintances, Marjorie walked sedately between the high, ornamental gate posts of Hamilton Arms, and on up the drive to the house. She compared her present approach to that of last May Day evening, when she had stolen like a shadow to the veranda to hang the May basket. It did not seem quite real to her that now she was actually coming to Hamilton Arms as an invited guest.
The knocker was no easier to pull than it had been on that night. She waited, feeling as though she were about to leave the college world behind and enter one rich in the romance of Colonial days. Then the door opened slowly and a dignified old man with thick, snow-white hair and a smooth-shaven face stood regarding her solemnly.
“You are Marjorie Dean?” he interrogated in deep, but very gentle tones. This before she had time to ask for Miss Susanna.
“Yes,” she affirmed, smiling in her unaffected, charming fashion. “I—Miss Hamilton expects me to tea.”
“I know.” He bowed with grave politeness. “Come in. Miss Susanna is in the library. I will show you the way.”
Marjorie drew a long breath of admiration as she was ushered into a wide almost square reception hall paneled in walnut. Her feet sank deep into the heavy brown velvet rug which completely covered the floor. Walking quickly behind her guide, she had no more than time for a passing glance at the massive elegance of the carved walnut furniture. She caught a fleeting glimpse of herself in the great square mirror of the hall rack and thought how very small and insignificant she appeared.
“How are you, Marjorie Dean?” Ushered into the library by the stately old man, the last of the Hamiltons now came forward to greet her.
“I am very well, thank you. I hope you are feeling well, too, Miss Susanna.”
Marjorie took the small, sturdy hand Miss Susanna extended in both her own. The mistress of Hamilton Arms looked so very tiny in the great room. Marjorie experienced a wave of sudden tenderness for her.