Virginia thought of her two Navajos in her trunk—one a gift from her father, the other made and given her by a New Mexican Indian, whom she had known from her babyhood. Oh, if only Priscilla might be the one!
“Do you suppose Imogene and Vivian will be back?” Priscilla continued.
“Imogene wrote me she was coming.” Somehow Virginia detected embarrassment in Dorothy’s answer. Who was Imogene? she wondered. “You know, Priscilla, Imogene’s lots of fun. Of course, she isn’t like you or Mary Williams or Anne, but you can’t help liking her all the same.”
“I know she’s fun, Dot, but I don’t think her fun is a very good kind; and I don’t like the way she influences Vivian. Vivian’s a dear when Imogene’s not around; but the minute they’re together she follows Imogene’s lead in everything.”
Somehow Virginia knew she should not care for Imogene. But where before had she heard the name Mary Williams? Just then they passed a tiny village surrounded by elm trees.
“There’s Riverside now,” cried the girls opposite, “and Hillcrest is the next.”
They hurriedly gathered together their belongings, and put on their hats. Virginia did the same, and as they noticed her preparing to leave the train, Priscilla smiled, and Dorothy looked at her with interest. But there was little time for exchange of greetings, for the train was already stopping. As they went with their suit-cases toward the door, Virginia, following, heard Priscilla say,
“Probably Mary Williams will be at the station. Senior officers usually meet new girls.”
Then it all came back to her. Mary Williams was Jack Williams’ sister, the girl in the Berkshires whom Don had liked so much. Her heart beat fast with excitement. Could she be the very same Mary Williams?
A moment more and they were all on the platform; and while Virginia stood a little shyly by her suit-case, she saw running down the platform toward them a tall, golden-haired girl in a white sweater. Priscilla and Dorothy dropped their luggage, and ran to meet her.