CHAPTER IIA JOLT FOR LESLIE
“What is it? Hurry up, and tell me.” Marjorie gave Jerry’s arm a playfully impatient little shake, her own letters for the moment forgotten.
“Listen to this,” Jerry began.
“Dear Old Jeremiah:
“When you read this letter I shall be Mrs. Harry Lenox, and on my way with Harry to South America. Some little jolt, Jeremiah, but you’ll survive it. Harry’s father, now Muriel’s highly-respected papa-in-law, has important business interests in the Argentine. It was impossible for him to make the trip to the Argentine at present, so Harry had to fall in line. That meant he would not return to Sanford until next summer. Poor Muriel. She had grown so used to having Harry around. As you know, we expected to be married in November. Harry said, ‘Why not now?’ I said, ‘It does seem as though something ought to bedone about it.’ And that’s what it’s all about.
“Father and Mother went to New York with us, and we were married in the parsonage of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church last Monday afternoon, August twenty-fifth. Don’t forget the date. I was married in the ducky pale tan traveling ensemble that I had had made for my November going-away gown. I hadn’t yet decided upon my wedding dress, and it was a good thing.
“I’m not yet over my own surprise at the sudden way all my nice, artistic wedding plans went up in the air. One thing, however, I insisted upon—a great big wedding cake. You and Marjorie, and all my other good little pals, will receive a piece of that glorious cake by parcel post.
“It seems awfully strange to be hurrying away from the good old U. S., adventure-bound. I’d always planned a wonderful wedding, with the big Sanford Six strictly on the job. Love is really a serious matter. There could be only one thing more serious, to me—not to be in love.
“I can’t stop to write any more just now. It is almost ten o’clock, and we have to be on board the steamer by eleven. We are to sail for Buenos Aires on theMaraquitaat midnight.There’s no use in trying to tell you how sorry I am about going so far away without having you and the girls on hand to wish mebon voyage. You and Marjorie, my dear comrades of years, can understand, above all others, just how I feel about it. I’ll write you a long letter as soon as I’m settled on shipboard. Be good, Jeremiah, and remember me to Dan-yell. More about everything then, including several pages of regrets at not being able to join your bridesmaid line on the fateful eighth of September. Oceans of love. You’ll hear from me again soon.
“Hastily,“Muriel.”
“Hastily,“Muriel.”
“Hastily,“Muriel.”
“Hastily,
“Muriel.”
“Whatdo you think of that?” Jerry’s tone conveyed her own feelings. “Muriel was right about the jolt. After all, it’s just about what one might expect of Muriel Harding. Maybe I shan’t miss her, though. We’d planned a lot of things to do in Sanford next winter.” She vented a long, regretful sigh.
“Your hunch came true, Jeremiah. We hadn’t expected to hear from Muriel Harding Lenox, in New York, and all ready to sail for South America. You’re the only one of the Big Six still single. And your fate is sealed. Fourof us are married to the boys who were our high school cavaliers. You’re going to marry yours. Susan Atwell is the only one of us who has loved and married far away from Sanford.” Marjorie’s lovely features had grown dreamily reminiscent.
“There’s no use in denying it. We’re getting old, Bean; getting old.” Jerry gave an elaborately disconsolate sniffle.
It set both chums to giggling as whole-heartedly as in the days when they were freshmen at Sanford High, with the future a closed book, the pages of which neither was curious to scan.
“I’ve a letter here from Muriel, too,” Marjorie said. “Let’s go back to the veranda and have a letter-reading bee. One of mine is from Leslie Cairns,” Marjorie was busily going over the envelopes in her hand, “and this one’s from Robin Page. This one looks like a high-class advertisement. Oh, here’s one from Gussie Forbes, postmarked California. Then I’ve a Paris one from Connie, and last and best one from General. That means he and Captain aren’t coming home just yet. Hurry up, Jerry.” She began to tow Jerry speedily up the walk to the house. “I’m in a grand rush to begin the bee.”
Marjorie laid the two letters for Hal on thewillow porch stand, hurriedly returning to the swing, there to enjoy her own. Jerry had plumped down again in her rocker and was already perusing her mother’s letter. “What did I tell you?” she commented to Marjorie as she continued to read. “Mother is worrying like mad because I’m lingering longer here than becomes the station of one, Jerry Macy, about to be wed. It’s time for me to hit the home plate. I can see that.”
“Never mind. We’ll all be together again soon,” Marjorie reminded.
“And that rascal, Muriel Harding was to have been my maid of honor,” Jerry groaned. “Why can’t you be my matron of honor, since she’s left me in the lurch. I’d rather have you as a first aid to the altar than anyone else.” She turned coaxingly to Marjorie.
“I’d love to be, except for one thing. I’d rather stand aside in favor of the unmarried girls,” Marjorie said simply. “Let me see. You’re going to have Leila, Vera, Leslie, Lucy, Helen Trent and Robin Page as your bridesmaids.” She wrinkled her dark brows in a reflective frown. After a moment’s silence she spoke: “Jerry, why don’t you have Lucy as your maid of honor? Next to the Big Six, she’sreally nearest to us all. It would make her wonderfully happy.”
“Luciferous?” Jerry eyed Marjorie with a contemplative squint. “I never thought of her. I was thinking just this minute that I might ask Helen Trent to take Muriel’s place. Helen was my first Hamilton chum, you know. Lucy——” Jerry became suddenly silent. “Right, as usual, beneficent Bean.” She nodded conclusively. “I ought to ask Lucy to be my maid of honor. I’ll do it, too. Mother says in her letter that the girls’ gowns are finished, and waiting for a grand try-on. Lucy’s will have to be altered, though. She’s considerably shorter than Muriel.”
“You haven’t told me about the dresses yet, Jeremiah,” Marjorie dimpled as she made ingratiating reminder. Thus far Jerry had declined to give details. “I’m going to give you a treat, Bean, so don’t ask questions,” had been her reply.
“And I’m not going to, either,” Jerry came back with her tantalizing grin. “I’ll invite you to the try-on. Curb your curiosity till then, or I’ll compose a jingle about it,” she now threatened.
“You’re awfully mean,” Marjorie’s amused tone belied her words.
“Don’t you want to be delightfully surprised?” Jerry demanded.
“Of course I do. I was only funning, my dear Miss Macy.”
“Glad to hear it. I’d hate to hurt your feelings, Mrs. Macy.”
“Don’t mention it. There ain’t no such animal,” Marjorie retorted.
Smilingly, the two friends again went back to their letters. Jerry was soon lost in the many pages of Ronny’s long friendly message. Marjorie was finding equal pleasure in a long letter from Constance Armitage. Every now and then, one of the pair would read aloud a particular paragraph of her letter for the edification of the other.
Jerry had finished Ronny’s letter before Marjorie had come to the end of the one from Constance. She busied herself with a rereading of Muriel’s, smiling broadly to herself over it.
Marjorie was also smiling, as though she had suddenly come into the knowledge of an extremely pleasant secret. The affectionate sidelong glance she shot at Jerry seemed to indicate that it strictly concerned the latter.
Presently she took up the letter from Leslie Cairns. It was hardly more than a note, phrased in Leslie’s pithy fashion.
“Dearest Bean,” it began. “September’s near, and I’m glad of it. I’ve tried Newport, the Catskills, and various other lady-like resorts just to please Mrs. Gaylord, who is on the job, keeping an eye on Cairns II while Peter is carrying on a snappy financial war with the wolf pack in London. We’re home in little old New York now, and Hamilton will be my next stop. Have you a night’s lodging for a weary Traveler, should the spirit move me to drop down, just like that, upon you? Gaylord is so full of plans concerning what she ought to do, may do, and intends to do, next, she doesn’t know where she’s at. I hope she decides to visit her relatives,pronto. I can then gracefully kiss her good-bye, and beat it for Hamilton. I suppose the campus is looking as lively just now as a ten-acre lot after a circus has moved off it. Nothing doing there yet. What? I’m going to descend on Remson, and good old Fifteen again, though Peter hopes we’ll be housed at Carden Hedge by Christmas. I have a new car. It’s some speedy flash. I let it out the other day for Gaylord’s benefit. She almost lost her breath, and her confidence in Leslie is now missing. What’s the use in trying to write the news? I’d rather tell it to you.You may expect me. Love, as per usual, dear Bean.
“Faithfully (but bored to a frazzle),“Leslie.”
“Faithfully (but bored to a frazzle),“Leslie.”
“Faithfully (but bored to a frazzle),“Leslie.”
“Faithfully (but bored to a frazzle),
“Leslie.”
“Listen to Leslie’s funny letter,” Marjorie commanded.
“I’m listening.” Raising her head from her own letters, Jerry’s eyes strayed toward the pike. With a quick exclamation she sprang to her feet. “Look!” she cried, and rushed across the lawn to the drive.
One swift glance, and Marjorie had dashed down the steps in Jerry’s wake. A station taxicab was just turning into the drive through the open gates. She gave a jubilant little shout as she glimpsed a laughing face peering out of an open window of the tonneau, and re-doubled her pace.
“Leila!” Her voice rose to a happy staccato. “You dear, precious old fake. Whoever would have thought of seeingyoutoday. No wonder I haven’t heard from you.” She was at the opened door of the machine now, grabbing enthusiastically at the tall, blued-eyed Irish girl just emerging from the car.
“It is myself, and none other.” Leila was out of the car now, clinging affectionately toMarjorie. “Ah, Beauty, you are a rare sight to a poor Irish emigrant.”
“Where’s emigrant number two?” Jerry had come up and joined in the embracing. She peered past Leila into the tonneau of the car.
“Right here,” came in prompt tones. Vera Mason’s charming blonde head poked itself into view. She sprang from the car, laughing, a dainty, diminutive figure in her smart gray traveling coat and tight little felt hat.
She was immediately seized and hugged, Marjorie and Jerry exclaiming over the welcome pair, girl fashion. Jerry’s quick eyes had caught sight of a third occupant of the tonneau. The latter, sat huddled in the far corner of the broad seat, face obscured by the folds of a silk scarf, carefully draped over it.
“You can’t foolme. Come out,pronto, and give an account of yourself,” Jerry commanded. Making an agile reach into the tonneau she snatched the concealing scarf from the wearer’s face, revealing Leslie Cairns’ rugged laughing features.
“How are you, Macy?” Leslie made an attempt at a tone of calm nonchalance which ended in a hearty burst of laughter.
“Fine and dandy, Cairns II,” Jerry caughtLeslie’s extended hands and began dragging her out of the car.
“Steady, there. You certainly have strong-arm methods.” Leslie came out of the car with a bounce, due to Jerry’s forceful assistance.
“Why, Leslie!” Marjorie’s brown eyes were wide with pleasant astonishment. “You, too! How splendid. I had just finished reading your letter when Jerry saw the taxi turning in at our gate.”
“Gaylord went, and I came. Wait a minute. This taxi man thinks he’s been held up here for an hour.” Leslie paid the fidgeting driver, who had already placed the travelers’ luggage on the drive.
Jerry picked up two of the bags. “More of my strong-arm methods,” she observed.
“I’ll take Vera’s, and mine,” Leslie reached for them.
“Since they seem to love work, why should we interfere?” Leila remarked innocently.
“Why, indeed,” Marjorie gaily agreed.
She and Leila led the way to the house, arms about each other’s waists, talking animatedly as they walked.
“Welcome, Travelers,” she called out as they entered the large square living room. She turned, arms outspread, with a pretty gestureof hospitality. “What does this room remind you of?” she turned to Vera and Leila. She burst into a merry little laugh as a big, gray and white Angora cat sat up, yawning widely, in a deep-cushioned chair. “You old fluffy give-away!” she exclaimed.
“Castle Dean!” both girls cried in concert. “Ruffle!”
“And it’s plain to be seen a good household fairy whisked the castle here from Sanford, Ruffle puss, and all,” Leila declared with an enthusiastic touch of brogue and a fond dive at Ruffle. “The top of the afternoon to you, Ruffle Claws.” She swept down upon Ruffle, gathering him, struggling, into her arms.
“Now, now, now, is this the way to behave? I see you have the same old claws. Have you no welcome, then, for Irish Leila?”
“Nu-u-u.” Ruffle accompanied his loud protest with a wild scramble out of Leila’s prisoning arms. He sprang for his chair, regaining it, and spreading out in it with an air of lofty defiance.
“Never mind. I shall charm you yet with catnip and cunning blarney.” Leila shook her finger at the Angora. “This is the room I loved best at Castle Dean,” she said to Marjorie. “What good fortune to find it again here.”
“We all felt the same about it. Since General and Captain were to make their home ours, and ours, theirs, the four of us got together and decided that we’d better transplant our living room to Hamilton Estates. It forms a link, somehow, between Sanford and here. So many wonderful things have happened in this dear comfy room.Younever saw it before, Leslie, but you’ll soon become well acquainted with it.”
Thoughtfulness prompted Marjorie to add this last to her cheery explanation. Despite the fact that she was now on the friendliest of terms with the girls she had once despised, at times Leslie still showed signs of awkward embarrassment when among them.
“I love it already.” The oddly somber look, which had briefly touched Leslie’s dark features, vanished. “It’s the most home-like room I’ve ever stepped into. I’m home-hungry, you know,” she confessed. “I’m going to make a bang-up, homey home for my father at Carden Hedge.”
“We shall all be going there to see you, lucky Leslie. It is only poor Midget and I who have no home. Oh, wurra, wurra!” Leila wailed the last two words soulfully.
“Plenty of noise, but no tears,” Vera commented slyly.
“She knows me,” Leila turned an indicative thumb toward Vera. “Or, it may be she thinks she knows. It is all the same.”
“I hope you will all come and hang around the Hedge—a whole lot,” Leslie said with half wistful emphasis. “Peter the Great and I are planning to be ‘at home’ there by Christmas. I’m going to hold my old stand-by, Fifteen, until our new home is ready. I’m undecided regarding P. G. subjects. I’ll specialize in something—don’t know yet what I want to take up.”
“You had best be satisfied with one subject,” Leila put in. “It is small time you’ll have for more than one after college opens.”
Her eyes on Leila, Marjorie read in the Irish girl’s tone an odd significance which Leslie had missed.
“I shan’t try to mix much in college affairs,” Leslie shook a decided head. “I’ll have time enough on my hands for three subjects, provided I’m ambitious enough to become a faithful study-hound.”
“She says, ‘three subjects.’ Now what do you think of that, Midget?” Leila stared at Vera in pretended wonder.
“What are you trying to do—kid me?” Leslie’s sober features relaxed into a faint smile.Quickly they shadowed again as she said: “You girls can understand why I’m not keen on doing the social side of college. It’s best for me to go quietly about my own affairs on the campus.” A deep flush had risen to her cheeks. She made an abrupt pause, in itself eloquent of her meaning.
“Oh, shucks!” burst impatiently from Jerry. “You don’t know your own worth, Leslie. The social side of Hamilton needsyou, in particular, to help make things zip. You’ve already a reputation on the campus——”
“That’s just the trouble,” Leslie interrupted dryly. “Not the pleasant sort of reputation you mean, Jeremiah. It’s the old one—the one that I’ve not yet succeeded in living down. I hope to do it—in time, by hard, unobtrusive work for Hamilton College. That’s the only way it can be done.” Her rugged features settled into purposeful lines.
“Do you hear that, Midget? She is that anxious to be hard-working!”
This time Leslie caught the amused exchange of eye-signals between Leila and Vera.
“See here, you two,” she challenged, “what’s the joke?” For a brief instant a glint of hurt suspicion sprang into her dark eyes. It snapped out as quickly as it had appeared. She saidgood-humoredly, “Why not tell it to the gang? Then we can all laugh. Is it an Irish joke on Leslie?”
“It is, indeed. Midget and I made it up in Ireland.” Leila flashed Leslie a tantalizing smile.
“Well?” Leslie urged expectantly. “Shoot it at me.”
“Now I warn you, beforehand, that if you should not like our joke it would be a sorry joke on me,” Leila fixed comically-concerned eyes on Leslie.
“I’m already beginning to feel doubtful about it. You’d better shoot,” Leslie warningly advised.
“It seems that I had.” Leila looked solemnly impressed. “Well, it was this way: One day while Midget and I were wandering around the edge of a deep green bog,” Leila began, story fashion, “I said to Midget, ‘Does it not seem hard to you that your friend, Leila, should have to write plays and be a theatrical manager, too?’ ‘It does,’ she said. ‘I can see you will be in a bog as deep as the one over there when you go back to Hamilton.’ ‘What a comfort you are to me, Midget,’ I said with a deep sigh. ‘I have often thought so,’ she replied gently.”
A funny little treble giggle from Vera brokeLeila up in the midst of her recital. She burst out laughing, her companions joining in the wave of mirth that swept the big room.
“Now I have lost the thread of my tale,” Leila declared after two or three mirthfully-ineffectual attempts at continuing it. “Where was I at? Ah, yes, I then said to Midget: ‘I should be one, or the other, but not both.’ She said, ‘Quite true, but don’t ask me to be the one you decide not to be. I cannot write plays, and it is all I can do to manage my own affairs.’ ‘Be aisy,’ I said with a fine touch of brogue. ‘You are not my idea of either.’ ‘Thank goodness,’ she said, not at all peevish. ‘I feel that I was intended to be a playwright,’ I said. ‘I am that temperamental!’ ‘Something like that,’ she said. ‘I have no genius for managing,’ I confessed. ‘I cannot contradict you,’ said Midget. ‘You had best turn that delicate little job over to someone else who has.’”
Leila paused. Her genial smile flashed broadly into evidence. Her eyes strayed inquiringly to Marjorie.
The latter was leaning forward in her chair, a lovely picture of delighted animation. “Oh, Leila!” she exclaimed. “How perfectly splendid!”
“You have guessed something, Beauty. Wasit not good advice that Midget gave me? Now to follow it.” Her head made a swift sudden turn from Marjorie to Leslie. “Will you be manager of the Leila Harper Playhouse, Leslie?” she asked practically, then added drolly: “I shall tear my black hair in a fine frenzy if you refuse.”
“Why—I—what?” Seated on the davenport Leslie had been leaning far forward, elbows on knees, hands cupping her chin, her eyes fixed on Leila. The unexpected suddenness of Leila’s question gave her a veritable jolt. She made a startled forward movement, slid off the edge of the davenport and sat down smartly on the floor.