“What would you have told them if they had seen you?” Miss Hamilton eyed the young girl searchingly.
“I would have said I was going out and hoped they wouldn’t feel hurt if I didn’t tell them my destination. What else could I have said?” It was Marjorie’s turn to fix her gaze upon her hostess.
“Nothing else, by rights. If I allowed you to tell your chums, as you call them, that you were here today, would they keep your counsel? How many of them would have to know it?” The older woman’s face had softened wonderfully.
Marjorie thought for an instant. “Eight,” she answered. “They are honorable. I would like to tell them.”
“Very well, you may.” The permission came concisely. “I will take your word for their discretion. I have my own proper reasons for not wishing to be gossiped about on the campus. I wish you to come again. I do not wish your visits to be a secret. I abhor that kind of secrecy. Perhaps in time I shall not care if the whole college knows. At present what they do not know will not hurt them. In the words of my distinguished uncle, ‘Be not secret; be discreet.’”
CHAPTER XI—COMPARING NOTES
Tea over, Jonas removed the tea-table and Miss Susanna waved her guest toward a leather-covered arm chair. Changing her own chair for one corresponding to Marjorie’s, Miss Hamilton proceeded to ply Marjorie with interested questions concerning her college course. She exhibited a kind of repressed eagerness to hear of the college and her guest’s doings there.
The tall rosewood floor clock had chimed six, then again the musical stroke of half hour, before Marjorie found graceful opportunity to take her leave. She was willing to stay longer, but was not certain that her erratic hostess would wish her to do so. The shadows had begun to fall across the sombre elegance of the library and the October twilight would soon be upon them.
Miss Susanna made no effort to detain her beyond saying: “So you think you must go. Well, you will be coming again soon to see me. You have given me much to think of.” She accompanied Marjorie to the front door, giving her a warm handshake in parting. Marjorie noticed, however, that her small face wore a pensive expression quite at variance with her accustomed alert demeanor. It gave her the appearance of great age, though her brown hair was only partially streaked with gray. Marjorie thought she could not be much more than sixty years old.
A happy little smile touched the pleased lieutenant’s lips as she hurried toward the campus through the gathering twilight. Far from being dissatisfied at not hearing more of Brooke Hamilton, she was blissfully content with her visit. Miss Susanna had promised to tell her of him. She had given her consent to allowing Marjorie to inform her chums of her visit to Hamilton Arms. She had actually set foot in the house of her dreams. The two rooms she had seen had more than justified her expectations of what it would be like inside.