“I’m not yet over my own surprise at the sudden way all my nice, artistic wedding plans went up in the air. One thing, however, I insisted upon—a great big wedding cake. You and Marjorie, and all my other good little pals, will receive a piece of that glorious cake by parcel post.
“It seems awfully strange to be hurrying away from the good old U. S., adventure-bound. I’d always planned a wonderful wedding, with the big Sanford Six strictly on the job. Love is really a serious matter. There could be only one thing more serious, to me—not to be in love.
“I can’t stop to write any more just now. It is almost ten o’clock, and we have to be on board the steamer by eleven. We are to sail for Buenos Aires on the Maraquita at midnight. There’s no use in trying to tell you how sorry I am about going so far away without having you and the girls on hand to wish me bon voyage. You and Marjorie, my dear comrades of years, can understand, above all others, just how I feel about it. I’ll write you a long letter as soon as I’m settled on shipboard. Be good, Jeremiah, and remember me to Dan-yell. More about everything then, including several pages of regrets at not being able to join your bridesmaid line on the fateful eighth of September. Oceans of love. You’ll hear from me again soon.
“Hastily,
“Muriel.”
“What do you think of that?” Jerry’s tone conveyed her own feelings. “Muriel was right about the jolt. After all, it’s just about what one might expect of Muriel Harding. Maybe I shan’t miss her, though. We’d planned a lot of things to do in Sanford next winter.” She vented a long, regretful sigh.
“Your hunch came true, Jeremiah. We hadn’t expected to hear from Muriel Harding Lenox, in New York, and all ready to sail for South America. You’re the only one of the Big Six still single. And your fate is sealed. Four of us are married to the boys who were our high school cavaliers. You’re going to marry yours. Susan Atwell is the only one of us who has loved and married far away from Sanford.” Marjorie’s lovely features had grown dreamily reminiscent.
“There’s no use in denying it. We’re getting old, Bean; getting old.” Jerry gave an elaborately disconsolate sniffle.
It set both chums to giggling as whole-heartedly as in the days when they were freshmen at Sanford High, with the future a closed book, the pages of which neither was curious to scan.
“I’ve a letter here from Muriel, too,” Marjorie said. “Let’s go back to the veranda and have a letter-reading bee. One of mine is from Leslie Cairns,” Marjorie was busily going over the envelopes in her hand, “and this one’s from Robin Page. This one looks like a high-class advertisement. Oh, here’s one from Gussie Forbes, postmarked California. Then I’ve a Paris one from Connie, and last and best one from General. That means he and Captain aren’t coming home just yet. Hurry up, Jerry.” She began to tow Jerry speedily up the walk to the house. “I’m in a grand rush to begin the bee.”