“I’m highly honored, Jeremiah.” Marjorie’s words held fond appreciation. “I’m so glad you wished me to know about you and Danny. Frankly, I’d often wondered when and how you and he came to an understanding. You’re such a secretive old dear. I used to imagine you didn’t care the least little bit about Danny. I was sure he cared for you, though.”
“I wasn’t sure,” Jerry made blunt response. “I mean, not until that summer we were at Severn Beach.” Jerry became silent, an absent gleam springing into her merry blue eyes. “And I’m going home day after tomorrow to get ready to be married to Dan-yell,” she suddenly broke out with a half humorous inflection. “Can you beat that?”
“No, I can’t.” Marjorie shook a smiling head. “I think it’s——”
“There’s the mail man!” Jerry sang out, the absent gleam in her eyes changing to one of eager expectation. “Come on.” She sprang up from her chair, and ran down the steps, waving a beckoning arm to Marjorie.
The porch swing rocked wildly as Marjorie left it in a quick rush after Jerry. The pair raced down the wide stone walk to the high arched stone gateway, bringing up, laughing, beside the mail box, fastened to a post, just inside the entrance gates.
“Oh, bother! I forgot the key!” Marjorie exclaimed in mild vexation.
“I have it. I brought it out on the veranda with me. Kindly recall that I’ve been expecting a love letter from my intended,” she reminded, chuckling. “I got ready to grab it.” She fished the little key from a diminutive, lace-trimmed pocket of her frock.
“You’re a life-saver,” Marjorie sighed relief.
Jerry had already busied herself with fitting the key to the lock. “Great guns!” she ejaculated, as she swung open the little door of the box. “Some mail.”
There were eleven letters, according to her pleasantly-excited count.