Marjorie Dean, College Freshman. Chase Josephine
really be a case for lamentation.”
“I’ve thought of all that,” Marjorie returned soberly. “I know it is splendid that I have the opportunity. I am thankful for all my benefits, truly I am. I ought to be glad I haven’t Lucy Warner’s problem to solve.”
“I don’t believe either General or I could truly accuse you of being ungrateful.” Mrs. Dean smiled down upon the flushed face so near her own. “Do you think Lucy Warner will try to enter Hamilton College this fall?” She asked this question with a double object in view. First, to take Marjorie’s mind off herself. While on the subject of college, she wished also to draw from Marjorie, if possible, Lucy’s present attitude toward the world in general. When, occasionally, Marjorie had entertained Lucy at the house that summer at luncheon or dinner, Mrs. Dean had accorded her the same friendly courtesy she would have extended to Jerry or Muriel. She had never quite forgiven Lucy for the unhappiness she had caused Marjorie during both her junior and senior years at high school. She had not yet come to a point where she could repose faith in the odd, green-eyed girl of whom Marjorie had grown so fond.
“She would like to, but she is worried about the expenses. They are so high at Hamilton.” Marjorie’s face clouded momentarily. “She could draw whatever sum of money she needs from the Lookouts’ treasury, but she won’t. I may tell you, Captain, but no one else – Lucy feels dreadfully yet, over that misunderstanding we had last year. She blames herself for not having believed in me. She says the other girls would not have doubted me, and she had no right to be so hard on me. She thinks she isn’t worthy of help from the club. She told me this, privately, because she felt it was my right to know.”
Mrs. Dean’s long-harbored sense of injury against Lucy Warner took sudden flight. She understood at last the peculiar girl’s innate honesty of character, and could not do else than respect her for her drastic stand.
“Lucy feels afraid she may not find any kind of work at Hamilton to help her out with her personal expenses,” Marjorie continued. “She can tutor in either Latin or mathematics. She has saved nearly two hundred dollars from her work last year and this summer. If she should enter Hamilton this fall her mother will do practical nursing. Then she will be earning quite a good deal of money and she won’t be so lonely. That’s the way things are with Lucy. I wish she would enter college with the rest of us. It would be easier for her and nice for us to be freshmen together.”
“Would Lucy accept financial help from you? You may offer it to her if you think best, Lieutenant.” Mrs. Dean’s generous proposal arose from a relieved mind. She could make it with absolute freedom of spirit.
“No, Captain. I am the last one Lucy would allow to help her. If Ronny were here she might be able to make Lucy see things in the right light. Ronny is the only one, I feel sure, who could convince her. She would not give up until she had. But goodness knows when we shall see Ronny again!”
An anxious little pucker appeared between Marjorie’s brows. Not since the first of July had she heard word from Veronica Lynne, Miss Archer’s God-child. Ronny had left Sanford a few days after Commencement, and had written her a lengthy train letter, en route for California. This Marjorie had answered, using a San Francisco address Ronny had given her. For one reason or another, Ronny had not replied to it.
“I wish Ronny would write me,” she said. “She promised me she’d write me if she didn’t write anyone else. I know she will keep her word; but when?”
During their confidential talk, Marjorie had remained seated on her mother’s lap. Tardy recollection that she was altogether too heavy for comfort brought her to her feet.
“Poor, dear Captain!” she exclaimed. “You can’t help but be tired from holding a great, heavy elephant like me! We had so much to talk about. I forgot everything except how nice it was to snuggle close to you and be comforted. That’s the very hardest part of being away from you. I won’t have my superior officers near by to report to.”
“You will have to tuck your reports away in your mind and have a reporting session when you come home on your vacations,” her mother suggested.
“Yes; and I promise you, Captain, that all my vacations will be spent with you.” Marjorie pointed an emphatic finger at her mother. “I’ll never desert my Captain and my General when I have a furlough. No, sir!”
“I think I shall hold you to that promise, Lieutenant. You have made it of your own accord. I would rather have it a free will promise. You will be away the greater part of the year. Those precious vacations belong to us. I know General feels the same.”
“I wish you both to be very stingy of me. Then I shall be sure you love me a lot,” Marjorie replied with playful emphasis. She no longer felt like crying. While outdoors the rain continued to beat down; indoors the sun had broken through the clouds.
“Once, oh, very long ago, you spoke of reading me Jerry’s letter,” Mrs. Dean presently reminded. “Then the rain descended and the floods came, and – ”
“We forgot all about it,” supplemented Marjorie. “All right, my dearest Captain, I will proceed to read it to you this minute.” This time she picked it up from the floor. It had dropped from her hand when she had briefly descended into the valley of woe. Settling herself in an easy chair, she unfolded the letter and promptly began:
“‘Magnificent Marjoram:
“‘I want to go home! It is hot here. This part of the globe is getting ready to burn down. The beach is hot; the hotel is hotter and the sun is hottest. It was nice and cool here until about a week ago. Then the sun came rambling along and started to smile. After that he beamed. Now he is on the job all day with a broad grin. Maybe we don’t notice it! Still our family love to linger in this hot berg. Hal hates to give up the bathing. Mother and Father are deep in a series of old-fashioned whist. They meet the same friends here each year, and they always play whist. They are anxious to stay for the last game in the series.
“‘I’m the only one who longs for home. I offered to go home by myself and keep Lonesome Hall. Mother said, “Nay, nay!” I pleaded that you would feed and nourish me and let me sleep in your garage until she came home. That didn’t go. Here I languish while some of the Macys swim in the surf and others of them hold up a hand at whist.
“‘Everyone at Severn Beach is growling about the heat. It has never been like this before. While I’m sitting squarely in front of an electric fan, I’m moderately cool. The minute I move off from it, I’m wilted. The last leaf of the last rose of summer was beautiful as compared to me at the end of a perfect day down here.
“‘Next year, we are going to the mountains. I don’t know which mountains the folks intend to put up on, but I know where Jeremiah is going. I’m going straight to the top of Mount Everest, which our good old geography used to inform us was the highest peak on earth. Five miles high! Think of it! I shall go clear to the top and roost there all summer. I shall have my meals brought up to me three times a day. That means five miles per meal for somebody. I certainly shall not go after them myself. It will be a wonderful vacation! So restful! Tell you more about it when I see you. You may go along if you happen to need perfect peace and rest.
“‘Oh, Marjorie, I am so anxious to see you and talk my head off! There isn’t a single girl at the beach this year that amounts to a handful of popcorn. They are so terribly grown-up and foolish; idiotic I might better say. They make eyes at poor old Hal and he gets so wrathy. Every time he sees one coming towards him, when he is down on the main veranda, you ought to see him arise and vanish. Sometimes, when he gets so disgusted he has to talk, he comes around and tells me how silly he thinks they are. Then, to tease him, I tell him he shouldn’t be so beautiful. You ought to hear him rave. If there is anything he hates it is to be called “beautiful.”
“‘By the way, how are you enjoying this letter? Great, isn’t it? I am trying to tell you all the news, only there is none to tell. Oh, I almost forgot. I must tell you of the lovely walk I had one day last week. I came in from bathing one morning and thought I would take a walk around the town. It had been raining early in the morning and then had grown quite cool for this furnace.
“‘I dressed up in a new