“No, Jerry; I did not meet my friend in New York.” Miss Susanna tried vainly to keep a sober face. The battery of bright, wondering eyes turned upon her proved too much for her. She laughed; a high, joyful little laugh in which Jonas’ deeper notes of amusement mingled. “I first met my friend on the road to the Arms; not such a long while ago,” she said with tender pride. “The interesting story of our friendship began with a broken basket handle and a young girl’s gracious courtesy toward a crusty old woman. I was very fortunate in meeting her. She turned out to be a royal young person who lived in a castle in the far country of Sanford. Since I’ve known her she’s often invited me to spend Christmas at Castle Dean. I’ve stayed at the Arms when I might have been happy in the royal palace of the King and Queen of Dean. I—”
“Miss Susanna!” Marjorie and Jerry were now on their feet with a concerted jubilant shriek.
“Wait a second.” Miss Hamilton briefly warded off the impending, tumultuous embrace of two energetic pairs of arms. “One more remark; then you may hug me hard. Like all the rest of the world, I hope to be happy at Christmas time. I know I shall be—at Castle Dean.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
A SIGNIFICANT DISCOVERY
“No, Beauty, I haven’t gone back on my word. How can you harbor such suspicions against a fine old Irish gentleman like myself? Such a regard as I have for you, yet you will doubt me.” Leila Harper rolled reproachfully sentimental eyes at Marjorie. “Since it is a Beauty contest you demand, your Celtic friend will rise to the occasion.”
“I wish you’d rise soon then.” Marjorie met Leila’s effusive promise with a coaxing smile.
“Name the day and the hour.” Leila gave vent to a resigned groan, quite at variance with her fulsome mood of the moment before.
“There you go. One minute you blow hot; the next cold.” Marjorie shook an arraigning finger before Leila’s face. “I’m going to take you at your word and name the day and hour. The day will be next Friday. The hour, eight P.M. The place, the gym, the promoters of the contest—” Marjorie paused with a dubious, questioning look toward Leila.
“Aye, Beauty; there’s the rub!” Leila exclaimed. “The contest ought to be pulled off by either the sophs or freshies. We P. G.’s are beyond such trifling vanities. So some would be pleased to say we should be. Now we come to the reason why of things. I’m wisely in favor of letting the sophs perpetrate the beauty walk.”