Leslie, always a close observer, had missed neither the exchange of glances nor the quick-leaping color to Leila’s cheeks. She smiled to herself, as though vastly amused by some sudden amusing thought of her own.
“It is the one reward worth gaining.” Hal’s right arm had wrapped itself about Marjorie’s waist.
“You two children have the best,” Miss Susanna’s brisk intonation had softened to gentleness. “You can well afford to be money-generous. So can I, for that matter. I’m rich in devoted friends, too. I’d like to join in this welfare enterprise of yours, Hal, if you’ll permit me.”
“This is the best news I’ve heard since Marjorie told me that she loved me bushels and bushels.” Hal’s handsome features were smiling anew.
“Why not let Leslie and me into it, too?” Peter Cairns demanded.
“The Marjorie Dean Macy Welfare Colony,” suggested Leslie. “How’s that for a name?”
“No, indeed,” Marjorie made lively objection. “Either the Susanna Hamilton, or the Peter Cairns Welfare Colony would sound much better.”
“Not a bit of it,” sturdily objected Miss Susanna. “Leslie has the right idea. We are all here together tonight, the best of friends, because of Marjorie’s interest, direct or indirect, in us when we were practically strangers to one another.”
“Ain’t it the truth?” Leslie agreed in a tone of awed wonder that set them all laughing.
“We are really Marjorie’s own colony. Don’t attempt to deny it, young lady,” Miss Hamilton shook a playfully reproving finger at Marjorie, “nor try to disown us.”