"Oh, let her go, Mamma; she'll have a much better time than she would here. It would be such a bother to have to take her everywhere, and see she had partners at the dances, and all that. Papa would be sure to ask questions and make a fuss if she didn't have a good time."
So the invitation was accepted, and Marjorie wrote a long, joyful letter to her mother, and went to bed that night, feeling happier than she had done since coming to New York.
CHAPTER XVIII
IN THE SUNNY SOUTH
"It's the most beautiful place I've ever even imagined!" Marjorie spoke with conviction, and drew in a long, deep breath of the fresh morning air.
She and Beverly were standing on the wide veranda at Randolph Place gazing off over the wide landscape, of low Virginia hills, with the wide river less than half a mile away. It was a glorious morning, and the peace and quiet seemed indescribably delightful after the noisy, stuffy night on the train. Beverly was very proud of his Southern home, but boy like, he tried not to show it.
"It's pretty enough," he admitted, "but this isn't the season to see it at its best; you ought to come here in the spring."
"It's perfect just as it is," declared Marjorie. "I've read about such places, but never expected to see one myself. Is that river really the James, and did your great-grandfather truly live in this very house?"