“And how long did you keep it up?” was the somewhat skeptical inquiry.
“Oh, it is running along beautifully yet.” Marjorie laughed as she made answer.
“I am more amazed than before. A club of girls usually hangs together about six weeks. Each girl feels that she ought to be at the head of it and in the end a grand falling-out occurs.” Miss Susanna’s eyes were twinkling. This time her remarks were not pointedly ill-natured. “You are to tell me about this club,” she commanded.
Marjorie complied, giving her a brief history of the day nursery.
“Are any of your Lookouts here at Hamilton with you?” she was interrogated.
“Four of them. One, Lucy Warner, won a scholarship to Hamilton.” Now on the subject, Marjorie determined to make a valiant stand for her chums. She therefore told of the offering of the scholarship by Ronny and of Lucy’s brilliancy as a student. She told of Lucy’s ability as a secretary and of how much she had done to help herself through college. She did not forget to speak of Katherine Langly, and her exceptional winning of a scholarship especially offered by Brooke Hamilton.
“I had no idea there were any such girls over there.” The old lady spoke half to herself. “I might have known there would be some apostles.”
“Miss Susanna,”—Marjorie decided that this would be the best time to acquaint her hostess with what she had purposed to tell her,—“I told my intimate friends of meeting you the day the basket handle broke. I thought you ought to know that. You had asked me in your letter not to mention to anyone that I was coming here. I did not say a word to anyone of the letter. I would ask my chums not to mention what I told them about meeting you in the first place, but, if I do, they will wish to know why.”
“Humph!” The listener used Jerry’s pet interjection. “Where did you tell them you were going today? Some of them must have seen you as you came away.”
“No; they were all out except one girl. She was busy writing a theme.”