Marjorie Dean, College Freshman. Chase Josephine
It contained not a trace of self-consciousness. Long ago Ronny had glimpsed Hal Macy’s mind regarding Marjorie. She knew the latter to be the likable young man’s ideal and had seen boyish worship of Marjorie more than once in his clear blue eyes. She also understood that Marjorie was wholly fancy free. While she valued Hal as a near friend, any awakening to a deeper sentiment on her part belonged to a far distant day.
CHAPTER VI. – THE BOWKNOT OF AFFECTION
That evening as Hal assisted the two girls into the tonneau of the limousine, he was of the romantic opinion that he had merely persuaded a couple of stray moonbeams to ride with him. The light of the fair, increasing moon endowed the duo with a peculiar ethereal beauty which gave him a feeling of reverence. Girls were mostly like flowers was his boyish comparison. The most beautiful flower of them all was Marjorie. Someday he would dare tell her so, but not for a long time.
Arrived at Gray Gables Hal had no further opportunity to “moon.” The rest of the company had arrived and were impatiently awaiting them. The limousine had hardly come to a stop on the drive when out of the house they trooped, shouting the Sanford and Weston High School yells by way of welcome. Danny Seabrooke and the Crane then broke into the “Stars and Stripes” on mouth organs. Miles Burton rattled out a lively accompaniment on little Charlie Stevens’ toy drum.
“I had no idea I was so popular.” Hal bowed his thanks to the noisy musicians.
“You are not,” the Crane hastened to inform him. “That choice selection we just rendered was in honor of the girls. Don’t credit yourself with everything. It’s horribly conceited.”
“I’m glad you named it as a ‘selection,’” Hal made scathing retort.
“What, may I ask, would you name it?” queried Danny with a dangerous affability.
“Making night hideous, or, a disgraceful racket, or, the last convulsions of a would-be jazz band. Any little appellation like that would be strictly appropriate.” Hal beamed ironically on the three. “Nice little drummer boy you have there.”
Supposedly offended, Danny could not repress a loud snicker at this fling. Miles Burton stood six feet, minus shoes. With Charlie’s toy drum strung round his neck on a narrow blue ribbon, he was distinctly mirth-inspiring.
“Throw any more remarks like that about me and you’ll find out my real disposition,” warned Miles in a deep bass growl.
“Come ladies; let us hasten on before trouble overtakes us – me, I mean. Back, varlets. Grab your instruments of torture and begone.” Hal grandly motioned the objectionable varlets out of the way.
“That’s what I say,” called Jerry from the top step. “For once I agree with Hal. Let the girls come up on the porch, can’t you? You four sillies can stay outside and rave. Notice how well Laurie and Harry are behaving. Try to be a little like them, if you can.”
“You can’t know them as I do,” rumbled Miles.
“No; I guess not,” emphasized Hal. “Well, I’d rather be called a silly than a varlet.”
“That will do from all of you.” Jerry ran down the steps and with a few energetic waves of the arms drove the masculine half of the guests up onto the brightly-lighted veranda. There the entire company lingered to talk, presently strolling into the long old-fashioned drawing room which Constance used for dancing purposes when entertaining her friends.
“Be happy and make yourselves at home,” she said in her pretty, graceful fashion. “Father and Uncle John will soon be here to play for us. They are helping Mr. Beaver, the leader of the Sanford orchestra, organize some of the Sanford working boys into an orchestra. It’s a fine idea. I think Father and Uncle John will help him all they can whenever they are at home.”
Marjorie cast a quick, inquiring look toward Constance. Her eyes luminous with affection, she asked: “Has it come at last, Connie?”
“Yes, Marjorie,” Constance answered, in a proud, happy tone. “I would like you to know,” she continued, turning to the others, “that Uncle John is to be a first violin in Father’s symphony orchestra. You can understand just how glad we feel about it.”
Connie’s news met with an echoing shout. All present cherished the warmest regard for gentle Uncle John, who had ever been so willing to play for them. Far removed from poverty, he had gradually regained the lost faculty of memory and could now be relied upon for symphony work.
“Oh, just wait until he gets home!” promised Hal. “Won’t he get a reception, though?”
“Surest thing in the world!” Laurie’s dark blue eyes were darker from emotion. Laurie had known for a very long time that, if Constance’s adopted family were not his own, some future day, it would not be his fault.
“That explains why we haven’t seen Charlie,” smiled Marjorie. “He is actually helping, at last, to organize a big band. I meant to ask for him. There was so much sarcasm being hurled back and forth, my voice would have been lost in the uproar,” she slyly added.
“He took his violin and music. The music was a lot of old stray song sheets. He will play them and put everyone out, if he has a chance,” Constance predicted with an infectious little giggle.
The entrance of Miss Allison into the drawing room brought the young folks to their feet. Her fondness for youth made her a welcome addition at their parties. She particularly enjoyed Danny Seabrooke’s antics and the sham penalties they invariably brought on him.
“You young gentlemen will soon be leaving for college as well as our girls,” she remarked to Hal. “I am glad Laurie has decided to go through college before making music his profession. He really needs the college training. Constance, on the contrary, will do as well to begin her training for grand opera at once. She must study Italian and Spanish. That, with her vocal practice, will keep her fully occupied. How I shall miss my boys and girls! They have been life to me.” Miss Allison’s delicate features saddened unconsciously.
A muffled sob, too realistic to be genuine, rent the air at her right. Her sad expression vanished as her eyes lighted upon the mourner. Slumped into the depths of a big velvet chair, Danny was struggling visibly with his sorrowful emotions.
“To see us all here tonight, who would dream of the parting to come so soon-n; s-o s-o-o-o-on-n!” he wailed, covering his freckled, grief-stricken countenance with both hands. No one arising to assuage his sorrow, his gurgles and sobs grew louder.
“Won’t some one please choke off that bellow?” Laurie viewed the perpetrator of the melancholy sounds with a cold, unrelenting eye.
“De-lighted.” Hal rose from a seat on the davenport beside Marjorie and advanced with threatening deliberation upon Danny.
“You needn’t mind. I am getting used to the idea of parting now.” The “bellow” ceased like magic. Danny spoke in a small, sad voice that might have belonged to a five-year-old girl. “Soon I shall be able to contemplate it without a single tear. I could part from you,” he suddenly recovered his own voice, “or that ruffian of an Armitage, and smile; yes, sir; actually smile. I’d rather part at any time, and from anybody than to be murderously ‘choked off’ by you two bullies.”
Danny hastily arose, after this defiant declaration, and retreated to the lower end of the room. Crowding himself into a small rocking chair belonging to Charlie, he rocked and smirked at Hal, who had followed him to the chair and now stood over him.
“Move back a trifle, Mr. Macy. I refuse to be responsible for other people’s shins. I have all I can do to take care of my own. If I were to kick you, accidentally, I should be so sorry!”
“Oh, undoubtedly! Wouldn’t you, though?” Bending, with one swift movement of the arm, Hal upset the rocker and its grinning occupant. “Now will you be good?” he inquired sarcastically. Leaving the struggling wag to right himself, Hal strolled back to Marjorie.
The room rang with laughter at Danny’s upheaval, nor did it lessen as he went through a series of ridiculous attempts to rise from the floor. In the