“Well, your last enemy has been routed in confusion, beautiful Bean. I just saw her depart in a station taxi. Guess she sent her car home ahead of her.” Jerry came in from the campus late one afternoon with this pleasing information.
“Glad of it.” Marjorie looked up from a translation she was making. “She’s to blame for my trouble with Miss Susanna, indirectly. She deserved expulsion. I felt sorry for the Sans, a little. I don’t feel sorry for her. I think she was outrageous; worse even in disposition than Rowena Farnham.”
Jerry agreed, glad to see Marjorie evince resentment against the disgraced junior. She realized that nothing save the utmost bitterness of spirit could have wrung that denunciation from her charitable room-mate. Jerry knew how deeply Marjorie felt the loss of Miss Susanna’s friendship and wished she could in some way manage to set things to rights between them.
The more she thought about it the more she felt impelled to go to Hamilton Arms and “have it out” with Miss Susanna. It lacked only two days until May Day, when she definitely decided to go on May Day evening and plead Marjorie’s cause. The fact that Miss Susanna had evidently not reported Elizabeth Walbert was to Jerry an indication of her leniency toward Marjorie. Jerry shrewdly suspected that the old lady would welcome a peace ambassador.
On May Day evening, at a little after seven o’clock, she lifted the heavy knocker of the Arms and waited rather sheepishly for an answer to her ring. She had not the least idea of what she should say to Miss Susanna, provided the latter would see her.
Jonas greeted her with delighted surprise in his fine old face. “I’m so glad you came, Miss Jerry,” he said. “She’ll be glad, too. She misses the little girl, God bless her.”
Jerry felt a slight catch in her throat at the words. They were precisely like two pathetic old children, she thought, who had lost a merry playmate. Jonas’ prediction that Miss Hamilton would be glad to see her was verified. She shook hands with Jerry, then she kissed her. Next she took out her handkerchief and wiped away a few tears which had welled to her eyes. Then the two sat down for a long talk. Jerry did most of the talking. Miss Susanna listened like a thirsty plant greedily absorbing water.
“It was all my fault,” the old lady declared contritely. “I was upset by the fall, and crotchety. I wouldn’t give my poor child a hearing. Worse, I didn’t answer her letter. I was still provoked with her when I received it. Later, I came to my senses. But I haven’t forgotten her. I have done something for her that she’ll like. Just think! Two years ago she came here all by herself and hung that violet May basket! I have been happier since then. Now we must get back to our good times again. If any of you simpletons of girls had come to see me before we could have straightened this snarl long ago.”
Jerry laughed at this last. “It’s true, Miss Susanna,” she agreed, “we were simpletons. Leila spoke of coming over here once to me. I told her I would go, except I thought Marjorie would not like us to do so.”
“I should have answered her letter. I wasn’t fair to her. I am going to write her a little note this evening. Jerry, will you be my messenger? This is Uncle Brooke’s birthday, you know. Marjorie will like to hear from me tonight on that very account. You go into the Chinese room and talk to Jonas, while I’m writing it. That is his favorite haunt. He always reads his paper in there.”