Marjorie felt an all but irresistible desire to ejaculate “Ha-a-a!” in one long relieved breath. It was coming at last. Robin wished she dared steal one glance at Marjorie. Instead she sat very still, a faint-breathing figure of expectation. Leila, Vera and Katherine watched Page and Dean and smiled. They, and they alone, knew how great had been the suspense of the promoters. Leila, ever full of fancy and mysticism wondered imaginatively if, somewhere in a world of light beyond the stars, Brooke Hamilton lived and watched with approval the carrying on of his beloved work.
CHAPTER XV.—OUT OF THE NIGHT
“What I have to say is particularly for Page and Dean though any and all Travelers are welcome to hear it,” Miss Susanna’s bright, bird-like eyes danced as she fondly surveyed her flock. A spot of vivid pink had appeared high on each cheek. She was like a youngster about to make a special confidence.
“To begin with,” she said, “it was not my business to meddle with the affairs of Page and Dean. I have no excuse to offer. I meddled because—well—I felt the need of meddling. Jonas egged me on. He’s every bit as much to blame as I.” She gave the gleeful chuckle which the girls loved so much to hear. “You two rising promoters did not know a certain man I know, and have known for years. Perhaps he is my real excuse for meddling.” The little old lady tilted her head reflectively to one side.
“That man is Peter Graham,” she continued. “The Grahams are one of the old Hamilton families. Peter Graham’s wife, Anne Dexter, and I were chums. I was Anne’s sole attendant when she married Peter. They never achieved riches as Uncle Brooke did. They were lucky in love, but have been unlucky in business. Peter is still a builder, graduated from a carpentership. As a young man he wished to study architecture. Then he married and lost track of his ambition in trying to be a creditable family man. He had a natural genius for planning houses and large buildings and did well when he could secure a contract. Hamilton is chiefly made up of old houses, mostly colonial, and staunchly built. I used to advise Peter to go away from here and establish himself in a large city where contracts were more plentiful, but Anne did not wish to leave Hamilton. Once I offered to help him and hurt his feelings dreadfully. When you talked of building a dormitory I did not at first think of Peter. After you girls had left here last June it flashed across me one afternoon as I was taking my walk that Peter’s chance had come at last.”
An audible breath of approval ascended from the attentive listeners. They were already deeply enough interested in Peter Graham to be in sympathy with his upward struggle.
“I knew I could trust Peter to give you his best in all ways,” was the positive declaration. “His bid for the entire operation—tearing down the old houses, preparing the site for the new building and erecting the dormitory was moderate in comparison with the figures I received from two widely known firms of builders. As you children have resolved to clear away the debt you will incur in building the dormitory you can do no better than trust the operation to Peter Graham. Jonas agrees with me. At first I thought of writing you about it, Marjorie. I found I did not feel like writing. I decided to tell you and Robin when you came to Hamilton. Time was flying, with nothing done. I sent for Peter and told him what I wanted. I made him happy. I know you are pleased with the progress he has made. But I don’t know what you think of Jonas and me.” She stopped with a half embarrassed laugh.
“There is only one thing we could think.” Marjorie’s face glowed with devotion. “You and Jonas must feel about Hamilton as Mr. Brooke Hamilton felt. You’d have to, in your heart, or you couldn’t have done such wonderful things for the students to come.”
“No such thing,” contradicted the old lady in an odd, harsh voice. “I mean, the way I feel about the college. Jonas is Uncle Brooke’s man, heart and soul. He still nurses all of Uncle Brooke’s plans for Hamilton College. Let us have it understood, here and now, that if a dear little friend of mine, Marjorie Dean, had not interested me in the plucky way she and her chums were fighting to turn that snob shop on the campus into a democracy, I’d not have lifted a finger for the benefit of Hamilton. As it turned out, Marvelous Manager’s way was his way. So I managed to please both,” she ended, her tone softening.
“Truly, Miss Susanna, that is the nicest compliment I ever had.” Marjorie showed such obvious delight at being ranked with the man she so reverenced that Miss Susanna’s own crinkly smile broke forth.