There was silence in the old study. The Dean was looking straight at Annui as if for inspiration. He had laid out his own career himself, and had carried every ambition to completion and reality. The last twenty years had been years of fruition, of honors freely given, years of fulfillment. He had not been, like Judge Ellis, intolerant of other men’s failures; he had simply ignored them, never feeling any responsibility toward the weaker ones who fell in the race. In his way, he prided himself on a gentle, aloof philosophy of life which left him the boundaries of the study as a horizon of happiness.
Probably not until that moment had he realized the gradual revolutionary process Kit had been putting him through ever since her arrival. She had trained him into having an interest in other people and things, until now it was impossible for him not to see the picture of Woodhow as she did. He resolved to help Tom Craig out as well.
“How did you find out about this, my dear?” he asked.
“Well,” Kit replied, honestly, “partly from Billie and partly from a letter from Becky. You know Becky, don’t you, Uncle Bart?”
The Dean’s eyes twinkled reminiscently. “Oh, yes, I remember Rebecca well. She used to bully me outrageously. But you’re perfectly right, my dear. I can quite see why you feel that you are needed. You had better start for home as soon as you can.”
The next thing was to break the news gently and convincingly to the family. Kit figured it out from all sides, and finally decided to walk right up to the horns of the dilemma in a fearless attack. Writing back a long, newsy letter to her mother, she simply tacked on the postscript, “Don’t be at all surprised to see me arrive around Christmas.”
The girls took her coming departure with many objections, but Kit was not to be persuaded to stay. The Saturday before she left the many friends she had made came over in the afternoon to say goodbye. Late in the day, Kit saw Jeannette Flambeau coming up the drive.
“It was awfully nice of you to come, Jeannette,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been watching for you.”
“I tried to come earlier, but I couldn’t,” smiled Jeannette. “Will you write to me when you are away?”
“I’d love to. You know it’s a queer thing, Jeannette, but really and truly, out of all the girls I have met here I feel better acquainted with you than with any of them.”