“Next to Bean, I hate her.” Leslie’s face lowered. “Don’t mention her to me ever. Since Bean handed over the college beautyship to you, make the most of it. You’d better give a dinner to some of the sophs who belong to the best families. They’re the ones who count in college. They can either make you or break you.”
“I—I haven’t decided just what I’d best do after Christmas to keep up my reputation as the college beauty.” Doris experienced a sudden violent dislike for Leslie. She wished she had never seen her. She wished she had not promised to go to New York with her. She had had a taste of real girl happiness, spontaneous and free from the plotting and planning which seemed ever to attend Leslie’s movements. Once again she was hearing the quaint adjuration to Beautye “to say a prayer of thankfulness at even for the gifte of Beautye by the grace of God.” Once again that clear, resonant voice rang in her ears. Though her new, unbidden mood soon left her, it would come again. The leaven had begun to work.
On the way up the main drive to Wayland Hall the following afternoon she came face to face with Marjorie. She bowed with less coolness than was her wont. “Good afternoon, Miss Monroe,” Marjorie said sedately, looking neither smiling nor serious. She was on her way to Hamilton Arms to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with Miss Susanna.
Doris had a faint impression of having known someone else whose voice was like Marjorie’s. She could not recall any such person. She grudgingly admitted to herself that Leslie’s rude appraisal of Marjorie’s good looks was not without foundation. Doris was fundamentally sound of judgment and honest enough not to deceive herself.
“You and I are going to have one of our old-fashioned heart to heart talks this afternoon,” greeted Miss Susanna as she folded Marjorie in her arms and kissed her on the forehead and both cheeks. “We’re going to have a light tea now and dinner at seven. Tea will be in the study. I’m going to ask you to help me this afternoon go over some of Uncle Brooke’s papers. I’d like to arrange them in chronological order. A nice sort of hostess I am, to invite you here to dine and then make you work for your dinner,” chuckled the old lady.
“You know there is nothing I’d rather do. You are a fraud.” Marjorie swooped down on her, arms flying, mouth open, fingers curved into claws. It was her favorite mode of onslaught upon her general when at home. Miss Susanna squealed, dodged and giggled as the avenging bogie bore down upon her. A merry tussle ensued in which Miss Susanna held her own.
It was not until they had settled down at the study table with the tea spread out upon it that they behaved with anything but hilarity.
“I never treated you to such a tussle before.” Marjorie declared blithely as she reached for the cup of tea Miss Susanna held out to her. “Those are General’s and my favorite tactics at home. Oh, wait until we get you there. We’ll have some grand family frolics at Castle Dean.”
“I am looking forward to them with all my heart. This will be the first Christmas I have spent away from the Arms since he died. I am sure he would wish me to go with you.” Miss Hamilton regarded Marjorie with deep solemnity. “Now tell me about the girls. What have you all been busy doing?” She switched the subject from herself with characteristic abruptness.
During the light meal Marjorie kept strictly to the subject of her friends’ and her doings on the campus. Miss Susanna listened to the lively recital with apparent pleasure. Now and then Marjorie would catch the old lady’s eyes resting upon her with an expression of brooding tenderness which she had never before seen in them.