Marjorie referred to a certain decision at which Leslie had arrived after she had visited Hamilton Arms in company with her father one day during the previous spring. It was then Leslie had outlined to Marjorie her generous proposal to erect a theatre on the site of her garage “flivver” which she wished to name “The Leila Harper Playhouse.” The theatre was to be owned and controlled by Leila with only the one stipulation that whatever performances might be given in it should be for the benefit of the Brooke Hamilton Dormitory.
Marjorie had then urged Leslie to permit her name to be given as the donor of the theatre when it should be completed the following spring. Leslie had confided to Marjorie her great desire that her father should be named as the giver of the theatre. Her own unworthy record at Hamilton College forbade her that pleasure. She had somberly argued that mention of either her name or her father’s as the giver of the theatre would serve only to recall her misdeeds and expulsion from Hamilton to faculty and students alike. She had already disappointed her father too greatly, she told Marjorie, without placing either him or herself in line for further criticism.
“I’m going to tell you something, Ronny. Leslie gave me permission last spring to use my own discretion in regard to keeping it a secret. Miss Susanna and Jerry know. So does Robin. I’d rather the other girls shouldn’t for awhile. You see it’s something wonderful for Leila. We wish it to be a great surprise. She’s so quick to divine things. I’m awfully afraid she may find it out unless I am very careful.” Marjorie put Ronny in possession of Leslie’s pet plan.
“There ought to be some way, Ronny, to manage things so that Leslie or her father—she’d rather it would be he—might be named as the giver of the Leila Harper Playhouse at the dedication and presentation.” Marjorie laid Leslie’s letter on the willow magazine stand with a little sigh.
“There will be.” Ronny made the assertion with positiveness. “What a splendid thing for Leslie Cairns to wish to do! The way will open for her. You’ll see. She is trying earnestly to think of everyone but herself. And that is truly the only sure road to the heart’s desire.”
CHAPTER IV.
A TWILIGHT SERENADE
After dinner that night in the beautiful summer dining room which opened upon a broad side veranda, tropically picturesque with palms and oleanders, Marjorie and Ronny repaired to their favorite haunt. It was a second-story balcony which overlooked a rose garden. There Wen Lo, the enigmatic-faced Chinese butler, long in the service of the Lynnes, brought them their dessert of ices and sweets and coffee. Mr. Lynne had declined dessert and gone into the library to enjoy an after-dinner cigar and a new book on fruit culture which had been written by his Chinese friend and ranch neighbor, Sieguf Tah.
“You must be feeling both glad and sorry about going back to Hamilton, Ronny,” Marjorie said presently drawing in a deep breath of the fragrant, rose-scented air. “Glad to be at Hamilton, and with us; sorry to leave Manaña. It’s so beautiful at all times. One day I think I love the early mornings best. Next day, it’s the sunset that seems most beautiful. Now the twilight’s coming on, and the roses are so sweet. Oh-h-h!”
A sturdy trellised vine, odorous with scented clusters of pinkish-yellow roses clambered up and over the balcony. Marjorie bent and buried her face in the clustered riot of bloom.