“She found it pretty hard to take,” mused Marjorie. “It’s a good thing, though. This will end Mignon’s friendship with Rowena, but it won’t change her one little bit. I don’t believe she’ll ever change.”
CHAPTER XXIII—A PECULIAR REQUEST
“Four letters for you, Lieutenant. Hunt them,” decreed Mrs. Dean, as Marjorie burst into the living room, her cheeks rosy from the nipping kisses of the winter air.
“Oh, I know where they are.” Jubilantly overturning the contents of her mother’s sewing basket, she triumphantly drew them forth. Without bothering to remove her wraps she plumped down at her mother’s feet to revel in her spoils.
“Here’s one from Mary. I’ll read that last. Here’s one from Harriet.” Opening it she read it through and passed it to her mother. “Harriet’s almost well again. Isn’t that good news? Why——” she had opened the next—“it’s from Mignon; a little note of thanks. Oh, Captain!” she stared hard at the note. “I’ve discovered something. Mignon’s not the horrid Observer. See. The writing and paper and all are quite different. I’m sure she isn’t. She’d never ask anyone else to write such letters. It’s not her way.”
“Then that is good news, too,” smiled Mrs. Dean. “I am also glad to know it. It is dreadful to misjudge anyone.”
“I know that. I wish I knew who the Observer was, too.” Marjorie sighed and took up the next letter. As she read it she laughed outright. “It’s from General, the old dear. Just listen:
“Esteemed Lieutenant:
“Head up, forward march to the downtown barracks. Report for stern duty at 4:30 to-morrow (Thursday) P. M. Your most military presence is requested to assist in conferring with an official committee in a matter of great importance to the parties concerned. Failure to appear on time will be punished by court-martial. Be warned not to try to ambush your general in the living room to ascertain the facts beforehand. You will only be captured and sent to the guard house.
“Signed,