Marjorie smiled in sympathy of Robin’s optimistic view. “It looks to me as though it might rain before night,” she predicted, scanning the gray masses of clouds beginning to roll up in the west. “I hope those clouds mean snow instead of rain. It’s hardly cold enough for snow. Anything but a rainy Thanksgiving! Thanks to you, Robin Page, we can discount the rain on the campus, if it should come. You’ve done a good deal more than I on the program. And see how I’m going to leave you in the lurch,” she added lightly.
“I’ve not done more on the program than you, and your presence will hang over the campus whether you’re here or not,” Robin said with positiveness. “In time to come the Page part of the firm of Page and Dean may be forgotten, but the Dean part; never.”
CHAPTER XI.
A FRIEND INDEED
It was precisely noon when the partners entered the inn. The somber beauty of the great square room always seemed to Marjorie to be more like a continuation of Hamilton Arms than a restaurant.
“You are here on the time, Miss Dean, Miss Page.” The friendly Italian proprietor of the inn had been watching for them. He trotted forward, his hand outstretched. “I write you the letter, then I afraid mebbe you go home early thisa morn. You don’t get it. Then think, no—you don’t go home when you give the dorm girls the dinner.”
“I am going home, Signor Baretti, but Miss Page is going to remain on the campus. Several of the girls with whom you see us generally are going home, too. Miss Moore and Miss Severn are to help Miss Page with the Thanksgiving dinner for the dormitory girls.” Marjorie smiled her regard for the kindly little man as she made this explanation.
“Ah, yes;” nodded the Italian. “Now you sit down; have the lunch with me. It is ready; very special; all for you.” He conducted them to one of the tables and bowed them into their chairs. “You are please have the lunch with such a nobody Italiano?” he asked jokingly. There was, however a touch of embarrassment in the inquiry.
The instant warm affirmative from his guests seemed to delight him immensely. He signaled to the Italian waitress who had been hovering near waiting for his order. She nodded and hurried from the room returning quickly with the soup.
“Now I tell you,” he said as they began the soup. “You know I like the dorm you build. I give this dorm a good present someday when I see what the dorm need much. I know you want give the college young ladies who used live where the dorm is the good time. I know they don’t have the mona; not much.” He pursed his lips and shook his head in regret of the dormitory girls’ moneyless estate. “You are the ones to make these happa, because you do good for these. I am this to make them happa, too. They don’t pay for the Thanksigivin’ dinner. You don’t pay. I give the dorm girls the dinner. Then I am happa. It will be the fine dinner. You do this for me. You tell the dorm young ladies come to the dinner at one. I don’t close my restaurant, but I have only enough tables for the dorm girls. I have already tell those freshmans, sophmans and studen’s they can reserve the tables only after half past two of the clock. They come here before, they must sit on the benches an’ watch the dorms eat.” His eyes twinkled humorously as he sketched this dire prospect for the girls who were pluming themselves upon having reserved tables at Baretti’s.