“You know whereof you speak, Jeremiah.” It was Leila who lifted the brief silence that had fallen upon the three unseen watchers at the window after Hal had taken Marjorie by an arm and piloted her fondly up the steps and into the house. “There is an old Irish saying,” she continued: “‘Love is like a four-leaved shamrock, hard to find, but of great good luck to the finder.’ And it’s easy to point out the two lucky finders.”
CHAPTER IV
TRUE LOVE’S OWN SYMBOL
“My dear child, I’m going to say good-bye now to Jerry Macy and take myself off downstairs so as to be ready to be among the first to say, ‘Good fortune to Jerry Seabrooke’.”
Miss Susanna Hamilton folded Jerry in her arms, kissing her gently upon both cheeks, and then upon her lips. The little old lady, charming in her gown of ecru satin and duchess lace, was smiling at Jerry, a world of affection in her small bright eyes.
“Dearest Goldendede.” Jerry returned the embrace with fervor. “I love you bushels as Jerry Macy, and when I’m Jerry Seabrooke, I’ll go on loving you, even more than bushels.”
“That’s worth looking forward to.” Miss Susanna wagged her head with amused appreciation.
“I’m next, Jerry, dear.” Mrs. Dean now claimed Jerry. “It seems hardly more than yesterday since you and Marjorie went raiding the Dean kitchen after school on a hunt for chocolate cake. Romance was far from your thoughts then. Marjorie found hers, and you yours. We are all happy in your happiness tonight.” Mrs. Dean’s tones bespoke her love for Jerry. “Wonderful things have befallen the Dean Army.”
“I think I’m the luckiest girl in the world, Captain.” Jerry brought a hand to her forehead in playful salute. “Besides Father and Mother and Hal I’ve you and General and Miss Susanna as special superior officers to wish me happiness. Some honor for Lieutenant Macy, I’ll say.”
“And you never counted me in.” Marjorie shook a finger at Jerry. Seated on a chaise longue she had thus far been a contentedly-smiling, silent spectator to the fond little scene of which Jerry formed the center.