“Then take this case and find out who wrote this letter,” Marjorie tossed the second letter into Jerry’s lap. “I’m not going to answer Miss Walker’s letter. It needs no reply.” The sudden firm set of her lovely face showed the girl’s underlying strong character. “Thank fortune,” she said in relief, “this letter is from Miss Susanna. No hateful surprises this time. Her inflection grew unconsciously tender as she read to Jerry:
“Dear, Dear Child:
“There’s a gala day ahead of us. Two weeks from Saturday afternoon we are to go to the dormitory site to assist in the laying of the cornerstone. Peter Graham says it will be ready to lay on that day, November sixth, at three o’clock in the afternoon. Bring the rest of the Travelers to tea on next Sunday evening and we will talk about the great occasion. I am notifying you of it thus long beforehand so that none of the Travelers will make any other engagements for that day. I shall expect you on Sunday afternoon.
“Affectionately,
“Susanne Craig Hamilton.”
Marjorie raised her head from the reading of this comforting letter, her whole face radiant with returned good cheer. “I feel all ‘chirked’ up again. Jeremiah.” She patted the letter and laid it against her cheek. “The persons who wrote those other two letters are only the shadows; mean, skulking shadows that can’t bear the light. Miss Susanna is the substance. That’s why I love her so much.”
“You’re an April Bean,” was Jerry’s indulgent but irrelevant reply. “One minute you cloud over and the next you shine. Now listen to my ambitions. I’m going to shadow some of those skulking shadows you just mentioned and solve the riddle of who writ the wrote. The weary chase may lead me over land and sea, or, at least, all over the campus. Then Bean,” Jerry raised a melodramatic hand above her head, “beloved Bean, your wrongs shall be avenged.”
CHAPTER XXVI.—THE CORNERSTONE
Saturday, the sixth of November, found a buoyant band of Travelers taking the well worn road to the dormitory site. They had decided to walk rather than ride, having agreed that there would be an elation of spirit attending that happy march which the little journey, if made by automobile, could not furnish.
Whatever plans Miss Susanna had made for the auspicious occasion she had not divulged. She had talked with them freely enough concerning the laying of the cornerstone on the Sunday evening on which they had had tea at the Arms. She had playfully ordered her young friends each to think of some good wish they might offer in behalf of the dormitory. Each was then to put her wish on paper, seal the paper in an envelope and have it ready to cast into the hollowed space of the cornerstone itself.