When Miss Susanna had rung for Jonas to come for the tea service she straightened in her chair with a nervous kind of energy that Marjorie had learned to construe as a sign that the last of the Hamilton’s was about to make an important disclosure. It was an entirely different attitude from that which she invariably adopted in giving a surprise. Without a word she rose, and, walking to one end of the study turned the key in a tall narrow mahogany cabinet which Marjorie had not seen before in the study.
“These are the most precious things in the world to me, Marjorie,” Miss Susanna said as she turned a brass key that stood in the lock. “Come here, child. Hold out your arms.” She swung open the door of the cabinet, revealing shelf upon shelf of papers. They were, for the most part, letters without envelopes, and documents. “This is his story, in his own hand,” she continued musingly. She carefully lifted the pile of papers from the top shelf and placed it upon Marjorie’s arms. The amazed lieutenant’s arms were steady, but her heart was thumping wildly.
“Miss Susanna,” she managed to gasp, “truly—are you going to allow me to look at them?”
“Truly, I am.” There was a tiny catch in Miss Susanna’s crisp voice. “No one has touched them since I partially collated them and put them here years ago. Bring them over to the table and lay them upon it. I have something to say to you, Marjorie Dean. I’ve been wondering for a week just how I’d like to say it to you. Well, the simplest way is best. I’ve decided to give his story to the world. I’ve selected my biographer. I can only hope that the one I wish to write the biography will not be too modest to accept my offer. The person I have in mind will probably declare that—”
“If you feel you have chosen the right person, then you must have,” Marjorie interrupted. “Oh, pardon me, Miss Susanna. I couldn’t wait to say what I felt. You will have to make the one you have chosen see matters as you do.” Marjorie’s mind was already made up. Since Miss Susanna had actually decided to permit Brooke Hamilton’s biography to be written she must be encouraged and supported in her decision. There must be no refusal of any sort to discourage her.
“Yes, I am sure I have chosen the right person.” Again Marjorie caught the divinely tender look in her friend’s eyes. “You have always seen matters about him much as I have, Marvelous Manager. That is the reason I have chosen you to give a faithful presentation of him to the world.”
“Miss Su-u-san-na. I—” With a little inarticulate murmur Marjorie’s curly head went down on the table, her face hidden in the curve of her arm. She did not raise it when she felt a hand rest lightly upon her curls. Silence reigned in the study, a calm, stately silence over which Brooke Hamilton himself seemed to preside. The impression of him was borne to the two who had united to keep his memory green. Afterward Miss Susanna and Marjorie both happily admitted to having had the same impression of his immediate presence in the study.
Presently, when the great emotional strain upon both women had lessened, they commenced an eager discussion of plans concerning the best way of writing Brooke Hamilton’s biography.
“You fell into your own trap, young lady. You can’t back out,” Miss Susanna told Marjorie with apparent relish.
“I don’t wish to back out; never; never,” was the fervent assertion. “It’s the greatest good fortune that has ever happened to me. I should like to drop chemistry, French, the dormitory, welfare—” Marjorie lightly waved away her enumeration of duties. “But I can’t.”