“Will you kindly tell us, Jean Bruce, what has happened to make you change your mind in the distance between the veranda and your bedroom door?” she inquired. “You need not tell me that you won’t go for a sail on the Hudson for the first time in your life because you love your Cicero so.”
Jean shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. “Well, not exactly.”
“Oh, Margaret, for heaven’s sake explain to Jean that we have asked Olive too, but that Olive says she positively can’t join us. Of course she is working on that plagued old Shakespeare essay of hers. And to think that once I believed I had a chance at that Shakespeare prize.”
At Gerry’s first words Jean’s face had magically cleared. “Oh, if Margaret wants Olive too, I will make her come along with us, she shall not be such a grind,” she protested. But before she could vanish for the second time Margaret and Gerry both clutched at her skirts.
“Don’t urge Olive to come with us, for you see we don’t really want her, and only asked her because we knew she couldn’t come.” Margaret explained hastily, and then seeing Jean’s face crimson with anger and resentment, she gave her an affectionate shake.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, child, when will you ranch girls get over being so touchy about one another? You know that now we know Olive better, we like her as much as any girl in our class. To tell you the truth, it is just because we are trying to fix up some plan to show Olive how we feel toward her that we did not want her to come along with us now. It seemed to us this would be our best chance to let you know our idea and to see what you think about it. I suppose I might have told you this at first,” Margaret ended, “only I am not a tactful person, and perhaps put things pretty badly.”
“You certainly did,” Jean laughed, “but now I will hurry and get my belongings, as I am perfectly dying to hear what you have in mind.”
An hour later eight members of the Junior class, Frieda and Mollie and Miss Rebecca Sterne, having arrived at a private landing pier not far from their school, were assisted aboard the steam yacht “Marathon” by Cecil Belknap and his father.
During the first half of the sail there was little real conversation among the girls, only “Ohs” and “Ahs” of delight at the beauty of the river scenery and the wonders of the yacht. But by and by on their return journey when Margaret and her guests were seated around the salon dining table drinking afternoon tea, Gerry, who never could bear putting off things, turned to her hostess.
“Look here, Margaret,” she said in tones loud enough for the entire company to overhear, “if your father and brother will pardon us, I vote that we plunge right into the subject we have come together to discuss this afternoon. I suppose your father and Cecil must both have heard something of Olive’s story by now.”