“Yours of last week appreciated. You haven’t yet said what you are going to do about Thanksgiving. That I suppose will depend on the way matters stand at Hamilton. If you don’t come home I will keep Father and Mother busy looking after me so they won’t miss you too much. Connie and Laurie will be in New York over Thanksgiving so I must cheer up Charlie by taking him to the football game between the Riverside Giants and the Sanford High team. I have been coaching the Sanford fellows a little. It’s going to be some game. Hope you’ll be on hand to see it.
“Just remind Marjorie that I wrote her last. Tell her she can square herself with me by coming home for Thanksgiving. Connie told me yesterday she had written to Marjorie. Hard lines to have Connie and Laurie away on the grand old day. Better try and see what you can do for me. With love. Good night old kid.
“Hal.”
“Why, I don’t owe Hal a letter!” Marjorie regarded Jerry in surprise. “He owes me one.”
“He does?” Jerry showed more surprise than had Marjorie. “Well, I believe both of you. It’s a plain case of ‘all have won.’ Meanwhile where is that latest glowing proof of a flourishing correspondence?”
“Lost in the mail, perhaps,” Marjorie guessed. She became silent for a moment. “I’m doubly sorry about it. I shouldn’t care to have Hal think—” Marjorie paused; looked away from Jerry’s keen blue eyes, so like Hal’s, in confused embarrassment.
“You know what to do.” Jerry kindly ignored the embarrassed slip. “Go present him with your regrets in person. I’ll give a hop, and invite you to it. Won’t that be nice? Old Hal won’t care if you are the only one invited.” She could not refrain from a side-long glance at Marjorie.
“Imagine Hal and me dancing solemnly around your big ball room together, the only guests at your hop.” Marjorie forced a laughing tone of raillery.
“Nothing would please him better,” Jerry stoutly maintained. It was the nearest to an opinion concerning Hal’s and Marjorie’s non-progressive love affair that wary Jerry had ever ventured.