"I know where it went, but I'll let Marjorie tell you," Jerry said calmly. "I told the girls they would have time to fix up the surprise before you came back. Vera did that lettering on one of her sheets in about five minutes. Maybe we didn't hustle, though." She had now turned to Marjorie. "Do you believe I know where you were?"
Marjorie looked into Jerry's eyes and smiled. "Yes, I think you know," she answered. "I'm going to tell you all." She swept her friends with affectionate eyes. "That basket was for Miss Susanna. I ran all the way to Hamilton Arms with it. I was a little afraid of getting caught by the servants, but I didn't meet a soul inside the gate."
It was her friends' turn to be astonished. A round of exclamatory remarks went up at the information, followed by eager questions.
"I can't explain why I did it," Marjorie began when the commotion had subsided. "I thought of Miss Susanna when first we planned to hang May baskets. I felt as though she needed one. She will never know who hung it. I hope it makes her happy. What I didn't expect was this." She pointed to her own wealth.
"We felt sorry for you in your lonely old age," giggled Helen. "We thought you needed something to cheer you up. But we're not going to hang around here all evening. We are going to give Miss Remson a May shower. Get the basket you made for her and come along. This is my party. I've ordered Nesselrode pudding and French cakes from the Colonial. Think of that!"
"Wonderful!" Marjorie's eyes were dancing. "She will be so delighted to have a surprise party. She really deserves one."
"So she does, and so did you, and you have had one." Helen dropped a friendly arm over Marjorie's shoulder. Shyly she endeavored to convey an affection she could not put into words. It was a warmth of regard which Marjorie drew from those who had learned to know the fine sweetness of her disposition.
"I think we are the only ones at Hamilton to hang May baskets," Vera observed. "It's a custom that ought to be brought forward."
"It is a beautiful idea." Ronny patted lovingly the big blue bow on her basket for Miss Remson. She was extremely fond of the good little manager.
"We ought to go in for more of that sort of thing next year," asserted Muriel. "Goodness knows we have had enough friction to entitle us to the peaceful pursuit of pleasant things."