“Correct, as usual, Jeremiah.” Marjorie turned from the mirror and began drawing on her gloves.
“My head is level, Bean; extremely so. I suppose you won’t be back before nine o’clock.”
“About that time. What shall I say to Miss Susanna for you?” It being Saturday afternoon, Marjorie was on the point of setting out for Hamilton Arms. She had received a note from Miss Susanna on the day previous inviting her to spend the afternoon and take dinner at the Arms.
“Tell her to invite me next time,” modestly requested Jerry. “Remind her that she hasn’t entertained the crowd of us since before Christmas.”
“I believe I will tell her that, Jeremiah.” Marjorie tipped her head to one side and regarded her room-mate with apparent seriousness.
“If you do,” Jerry looked startled, “I’ll never forgive you, Marjorie Dean.”
“Then I won’t tell her.” Marjorie’s sober face relaxed into a teasing smile.
“Uh-h; I guess not,” Jerry smiled with her. “I don’t know what I shall do this afternoon. Hunt up Helen and make her take me to ride, maybe. Oh, I forgot. Leila is going to West Hamilton. She said she’d take me with her. I’m saved from my own society.”
“I wish you were going with me.” Marjorie paused regretfully, hand on the door knob.
“Don’t worry over me, as Danny Seabrooke loves to say. Beat it.” Jerry waved a jesting hand at Marjorie. “Shoo! Begone!”