“Splendid.” Ruth grew radiant as the beauty of the compromise dawned upon her. “It will give us both a chance to be hostess, and we’ll all have six weeks together instead of four.”
“I intend, of course, to call the girls together and invite them. I thought I should like to speak to you beforehand. I had no idea that you had already made your plans for a reunion in August. Suppose you ask the girls to come to my room to-morrow evening to talk matters over. I will write Marian, inviting her to my house party. She is such a delightful girl. We had several interesting talks together when she visited you last Thanksgiving.”
Mention of writing to her cousin caused Ruth to catch her breath in consternation. It recalled her own letter to Marian and why she had written it. It was all very well for Miss Drexal to wish to entertain the Equitable Eight at her cottage, but what of Blanche Shirly? That the registrar strongly disapproved of Blanche, Ruth knew only too well. Neither did Blanche like Miss Drexal. During her two years at Miss Belaire’s, she had been as a thorn in the registrar’s flesh. Twice she had skirted dismissal by over-staying a holiday leave of absence. On numerous other occasions she had lawlessly defied Miss Drexal, and when called to account, had made light of reproof. Ruth’s dreams of long, blissful hours spent on the sunlit shore of blue Lake Superior merged into a disagreeable reality, wherein Blanche Shirly loomed a central figure. What would Miss Drexal think of her if she immediately asked permission to include Blanche in the invitation? Why was it that she seemed continually fated to face such embarrassing situations?
Last year she had been obliged to write Betty Wyndham about Marian. Of course that had been quite different. She had not expected that Betty would invite Marian to her house party. She would never have dreamed of asking Betty to do so. Betty had acted of her own volition. If she explained matters, Miss Drexal would be willing to invite Blanche. She was sure of that. But was it fair to ask the registrar to entertain a girl of whom she so thoroughly disapproved? Still the Equitable Eight had pledged themselves to Blanche’s cause. Wherever they gathered during August, Blanche must perforce be there also. If they were to refuse Miss Drexal’s invitation on that account, then she would be disappointed. Neither could they refuse it without explaining why. All this passed with lightning speed through Ruth’s troubled brain.
“When you spoke of Marian it made me remember something I’d forgotten for a minute,” she said, flushing. “I—you see—we have invited Blanche Shirly to attend our reunion. Her mother is sick and has to go to a sanatorium for the summer and so—she—we asked her to be our guest.” Ruth stammered forth her explanation, magnanimously careful to remove all shadow of opprobrium from Blanche.
Miss Drexal stared harder than ever at Ruth, as though endeavoring to divine what lay behind the halting explanation. Only too thoroughly acquainted with Blanche’s high-handed methods of obtaining whatever she set out to gain, she had a shrewd suspicion as to the manner in which this peculiar state of affairs had come about. She also read in the brown eyes, so earnestly fixed on hers, a distinct appeal against too close questioning.
“I think I understand your position, Ruth,” she said quietly. “We won’t go into a discussion of it. Please ask Blanche to come here to-morrow night with the others.” Affectionately she added, “You are beginning well as a Torch Bearer, my dear.”
“Thank you, Miss Drexal.” Ruth spoke almost humbly. “I knew you’d understand. I’ll see that the girls are here in good season to-morrow evening. I won’t speak to them about it to-night, though. If I did, it would surely be a case of ‘unprepared’ all round to-morrow. I must go. I have a lot of studying to do.” Lingering for a few moments further chat with Miss Drexal, Ruth took her leave, athrill with a pleasant flutter of excitement. Mischievously, she decided not to go into detail regarding the invitation to Miss Drexal’s room. She would merely deliver it to the girls and leave them to guess its import.
The next morning before breakfast she went from door to door, tantalizingly announcing the meeting to take place that evening in Miss Drexal’s apartment. To curious inquiries, “What for?” and “Why does she want us to come?” she laughingly replied, “Wait and see.”
Blanche Shirly, in particular, was avidly concerned to learn the whys and wherefores of the summons: “Are you sure it hasn’t anything more to do with me than the others?” she quizzed. “Miss Drexal can’t bear me, you know. It would be just like her to invite me there and then say something that would make me feel foolish before all those girls.”