No one of the five Travelers were ever likely to forget that particular afternoon chiefly because of the peculiarly charming “youngness” of spirit exhibited by Miss Susanna. It fascinated them all. It was as though she had gone back over the years to girlhood.
They spent the afternoon out of doors, at first roving about the magnificent breadth of lawn with their vivacious guide. She had plenty of interesting bits of the history of the Hamiltons to relate, called to mind at sight of a particular tree, shrub or nook of special vernal or floral beauty.
Later, they gathered in a quaint Chinese pagoda set in the midst of a group of graceful larches. There Jonas brought them tea and sweet crackers, all Miss Susanna would allow them to have on account of the approaching dinner hour. While they sipped the finest Chinese tea and nibbled crackers she told them of how Prince Tuan Chi, a Chinese noble and a friend of Brooke Hamilton, and her great uncle had themselves built the pagoda during a summer the young Chinese lord had spent at Hamilton Arms.
“All that happened before my time,” Miss Susanna concluded with a sigh. There was a far-away gleam in her bright dark eyes. “Uncle Brooke used to tell me such tales when he and I took our walks about the Arms. Sometimes he would choose to walk with Jonas instead of me. Jonas was like a younger brother to him. How hurt I used to feel,” she declared with a smile of self-mockery.
Thus far she had made no mention of the topic dear to Robin and Marjorie. Each time she spoke, in her crisp enunciation they pricked up mental ears. Each time they were doomed to vague disappointment. Still they could not fail to treasure every word she related concerning their idol, Brooke Hamilton.
“What time is it, Marjorie?” Miss Susanna finally asked. She cast a glance at the sun making its leisurely descent down the western sky. “My guess is—let me see—ten minutes past five.”
“It’s seven after. I should say you can guess time!” Robin opened surprised eyes. “Beg your pardon, Marjorie,” she apologized. “I know you’re not dumb.”
“Considering you are Page and I am Dean, I’ll forgive you,” Marjorie assumed an important air. “Aren’t the firm of Page and Dean one?”
“They are,” Robin replied solemnly as though taking a vow.
“Which reminds me,” broke in Miss Susanna, “that I have some business to transact with this distinguished firm, even if it is Sunday.” There was a suggestion of eager stir in her announcement.