Jerry was quite willing to interview Jonas in the Chinese room. She loved the room and she thought Jonas the most interesting old man she had ever seen. She wished she could induce him to speak of Brooke Hamilton. She liked the idea of having some interesting bit of information concerning the latter to take back to Marjorie.
Being an exceedingly clever young person, she skillfully drew Jonas out to talk of the founder of Hamilton. He told her several incidents of his former employer’s life that were of vivid interest. The most amazing bit of information she gleaned from Jonas, however, was the fact that the old man had attended the performance of both plays and the concert as well.
“Miss Susanna was anxious I should attend them,” he explained, his face breaking into a crinkle of little smiling lines that Jerry thought beautiful. “But I should have gone to them, at any rate. Tell our Sunshine girl so for me. Tell her, too, that if she had lived in Mr. Brooke’s time she would have been his staunchest supporter and ally. Her interest in the college he loved comes second to his own.”
The old servitor’s deep voice echoed through the spacious room. For an instant Jerry was seized by the eerie fancy that the departed Brooke Hamilton himself had been speaking.
When Jerry left Hamilton Arms it was nearly nine o’clock. Jonas insisted on accompanying her to the campus gates. Darkness had fallen and there was no moonshine until after midnight. Jerry carried with her the note and an immense round bunch of double, sweet-scented garden violets; these last, Miss Susanna’s peace-offering to Marjorie.
“Oh! Um-m! How sweet!” Marjorie caught the fragrance of the violets the moment Jerry entered the room. She cried out with pleasure as she saw the perfumed purple blossoms. “Where have you been? Who gave you those perfectly lovely violets, Jeremiah?”
“Guess where I’ve been.” Jerry advanced to the table where Marjorie sat with her books. She dropped the note and the flowers directly in front of her chum.
“Why, Jeremiah!” Marjorie cried out. First glance at the note and she had recognized that familiar fine hand. Such violets as those she now held to her flushed face grew only at Hamilton Arms. “I—I—don’t see——” she began. Then her curly head went down on the table, supported by one rounded arm.
When she raised it again two or three tears trembled on her long lashes, but a smile irradiated her face. “I wondered where you had gone, Jerry,” she said tremulously. “Now I know. And you did it for me! I don’t have to read Miss Susanna’s note to know that everything is all right again. I only have to look at these violets. Mr. Brooke Hamilton’s favorite flower and today was his birthday! It’s just two years tonight since I hung the May basket on Miss Susanna’s door. She said after we came to know her that the violets that night seemed like a message from him. Somehow I feel that way about these violets. He planted them and tended them. They are like a fragrant message of good will from him.”