“And we haven’t a single present for you,” wailed Vera regretfully.
“So much the better. There’s nothing I need except more love. I’m rich in that, by the Grace of God.” Miss Susanna had emerged from the affectionate wooling she had received, radiantly smiling.
Then began one of the delightful evenings, which, instead of being few and far between, were now frequent occurrences in the contented life of the once pessimistic mistress of the Arms. As it neared nine o’clock Leila announced that she had a fine stirring song to sing and invited Robin to vacate the piano stool.
“Miss Susanna may have heard this gem. I am sure the rest of you have not,” she declared with beaming smiles. “It is called ‘Wait for the Wagon.’ It is a deeply significant song.” She turned to the piano and began a jerky little prelude which Phil said sounded exactly like the jolting of a wagon. Leila then lifted up her voice in a creaky old-fashioned tune which convulsed her listeners.
She sang two verses amid ripples of laughter. Nothing dismayed by the laughing derision accorded her vocal efforts she vigorously began a third. Then something happened. Down the hall outside came the approaching squeak of wheels. The laughter rose to a mild shout as Jonas appeared in the doorway, pulling after him a good-sized toy express wagon piled high with fancy-wrapped, be-ribboned bundles. Strangely enough each package was tied with pale violet satin ribbon. He trundled the wagon into the room and to where Marjorie sat, winsome and laughing, saying: “Miss Susanna says that she has the birthday, but you may have the presents.”
“Oh! Why! I don’t need any!” Marjorie exclaimed, looking abashed. “It’s not my birthday.”
“No, but you’ve a wedding day coming,” Miss Susanna said, matter-of-fact and smiling, “and a hope chest, too. Go and bring it, Jonas. Open your hope gifts, child, and be glad your friends aren’t stingy.” In spite of her prosaic tone there was a tender gleam in her bright brown eyes.
She lost it immediately and began to laugh at Jonas who turned solemnly and trundled the wagon into the hall and out of sight. He came creaking back again soon with the beautiful rosewood chest.
Surrounded by a love knot of friends, Marjorie opened package after package, smiling at first, but tenderly tearful toward the last. She was especially touched by Jonas’s gift to her of a gorgeous Chinese vase which Brooke Hamilton had given him and which had been one of his few treasures. She also dropped two or three tears on an exquisite jade figure which Leslie Cairns had given her. She understood it to be a reminder of the momentous afternoon when she had worn the jade frock and they had gone together to President Matthews’ office.
When she had opened, loved and exclaimed over the last gift, a hand-embroidered lunch cloth from Kathie, every stitch of which had been taken by her patient fingers, she turned from the library table, now gaily blossoming with her riches, and opened both arms in a gesture of endearment.