“You will always be young, Sallie,” replied the gallant major.
“You are nothing but a boy yourself, John,” replied Miss Stuart, blushing in spite of herself, while the young people exchanged stealthy smiles at these elderly compliments.
“I was saying,” continued the major, who remained standing to finish his speech, “that there was nothing we could do, the boys and I, to show how we feel in this matter. But when you wear these little ornaments” (here the major handed Miss Sallie and each of the girls a little jeweler’s box) “we hope you will remember that we are your devoted friends always. It was Stephen’s idea, and there was not much time to get them, but the jeweler undertook a rush order for us, and I hope they are all right.”
“Hurray!” cried Jimmie, rolling his napkin into a ball and tossing it into the air.
There were cries of pleasure when the boxes gave up their treasures, small gold firemen’s helmets studded with pearls and a row of rubies on the curve of the brim.
As if this were not enough, John came in with a tray of bouquets, each one different, as on a former occasion. The major had picked and arranged the flowers himself for Miss Sallie and “The Automobile Girls,” as a last reminder of Ten Eyck Hall, he said.
“It is worth while going into the firemen’s business, if one is to be so well repaid,” exclaimed Ruth.
Bab felt particularly rich in souvenirs of her visit, with a picture of a new and hitherto unknown great-aunt, a ring and a beautiful pin.
“We are all much too excited to thank you properly, Major,” she said.
“I don’t want any thanks, my dear child,” replied the major. “I wish to avoid them.”