There could be no doubt at all but that she succeeded. There was a load of pretty remembrances for everyone. Rob Steele had been bothered somewhat, too, over the question of gifts. Fortunately, while not an artist, he had some skill with brush and pencil, and after considerable cogitating, he devoted his few spare moments to painting some dainty marine views in water colors; he had these inexpensively framed, and told himself that he would not worry; he had done the best he could, though, of course, his trifles were not to be mentioned in the same breath as the elegant presents which Martin would buy.
But on Christmas morning, Bob Steele found that his little gifts received much more attention than the handsome ones that Dick Martin had given. And even Mary Sutherland, with all her supersensitiveness, never thought of comparing the relative value of the inexpensive books she had given, with the very beautiful muff, handkerchiefs, ribbons and laces which she found in her Christmas corner.
There were no heart-burnings and no jealousies. The only drawback to the day, as Fred declared, was the thought that the party would be partially broken up on the morrow. Dick Martin was going back to Boston. Mary would join her aunt at college for a little trip, and Dolly and Beth would leave for Philadelphia. Fred grumbled considerably at such a scattering of the congenial party, but there was no help for it. Rob Steele would stay with him until Harvard reopened, and Dolly and Beth might be able to stay over night on their way back to Westover.
A moment later Dolly had been introduced to Beth’s father
When Dolly found herself actually on the train next day, bound for Philadelphia, she wondered more and more to what kind of a home she was going. Beth grew more quiet and sedate as they neared the city, and the reserved, rather hard expression which she had partially lost of late, was intensified.
As they entered the main gate at the Broad Street Station, a tall, handsome man took Beth’s valise from her hand and bent to kiss her. A moment later Dolly had been introduced to Beth’s father. A carriage was waiting for them outside the station, and as they drove to Beth’s home, Dolly scrutinized Mr. Newby’s features closely, trying hard to find therein the explanation of much that had mystified her in Beth.
He was evidently a man of culture and brains. Dolly could not imagine him in a temper or exhibiting any lack of self-control. Why did he and Beth not chatter more familiarly, though? He was asking questions about the college in the same fashion that he might have asked them of Dolly herself, and Beth was replying in the same formal, courteous way. Even Mr. Newby’s kiss of welcome at the station had seemed a perfunctory duty-kiss, not at all like the spontaneous ones given by Dolly’s father.
And Beth could chatter fast enough! Why wasn’t she doing it now? Though, if Dolly had only known it, both Beth and her father were making a great effort to have the conversation lively and animated.