Miss Susanna stared at her in silence, as though trying to determine the worth of Marjorie’s unexpected remarks.
“He was wonderful,” she said at last. “I am amazed at your appreciation of him. You are an amazing young person, I must say. How much do you know concerning my great uncle that you should have arrived at your truly high opinion of him?”
“I know very little about him except that he loved Hamilton and planned it nobly.” Marjorie’s clear eyes looked straight into her vis-a-vis’s sharp dark ones. “I have asked questions. I have treasured every scrap of information about him that I have heard since I came to Hamilton College. No one seems to know much of him except in a general way.”
“That is true. Well, the fault lies with the college.” The reply hinted of hostility. “Perhaps I will tell you more of him some day. Not now; I am not in the humor. I must get used to having you here first. I try to forget that you are from the college. I told you I did not like girls. I may call you an exception, child. I realized that after you had left me, the day you helped me to the cottage with the chrysanthemums. I was cheered by your company. I am pleased with your admiration for him. He was worthy of it.”
As on the day of her initial meeting with Brooke Hamilton’s great niece, Marjorie was again at a loss as to what to say next. She wished to say how greatly she revered the memory of the founder of Hamilton College. In the face of Miss Susanna’s declaration that she did not wish to talk of him, she could not frame a reply that conveyed her reverence.
“Try these cakes. They are from an old recipé the Hamiltons have used for four generations. Ellen, my cook, made these. I seldom do any baking now. I used to when younger. I spend most of my time out of doors in good weather. Let me have your cup.”
Her hostess tendered a plate of delicate little cakes not unlike macaroons. Marjorie helped herself to the cakes and forebore asking questions about Brooke Hamilton. Miss Susanna had partially promised to tell her of him some day. She could do no more than possess her soul in patience.
“What do you do in winter, Miss Hamilton, when you can’t be out?” she questioned interestedly. “Do you live at Hamilton Arms the year round?”
“Yes; I have not been away from here for a number of years. In winter I read and embroider. I do plain sewing for the poor of Hamilton. Jonas takes baskets of clothing and necessities to needy families in the town of Hamilton. ‘The poor ye have always with ye,’ you know.”
“I know,” Marjorie affirmed, her lovely face growing momently sad. “Captain, I mean, my mother, does a good deal of such work in Sanford. I have helped her a little. During our last year at high school a number of us organized a club. We called ourselves the Lookouts and we rented a house and started a day nursery for the mill children. The house was in their district.”