[Illustration: “She stood beaming her delight of the flower-like group
that had invaded her room.”]
[_Page 57_] [_Marjorie Dean Macy’s Hamilton Colony_]
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Marjorie Dean Macy’s
Hamilton Colony
_By_ PAULINE LESTER
AUTHOR OF
“The Marjorie Dean High School Series,” “The
Marjorie Dean College Series,” “The Marjorie
Dean Post-Graduate Series,” etc.
[Illustration]
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Printed in U. S. A.
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THE MARJORIE DEAN
POST-GRADUATE SERIES
A SERIES FOR GIRLS 12 TO 18 YEARS OF AGE
By PAULINE LESTER
MARJORIE DEAN, POST-GRADUATE
MARJORIE DEAN, MARVELOUS MANAGER
MARJORIE DEAN AT HAMILTON ARMS
MARJORIE DEAN’S ROMANCE
MARJORIE DEAN MACY
MARJORIE DEAN MACY’S HAMILTON COLONY
Copyright, 1930
By A. L. BURT COMPANY
MARJORIE DEAN MACY’S HAMILTON COLONY
Printed in U. S. A.
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MARJORIE DEAN MACY’S
HAMILTON COLONY
CHAPTER I
“Something fine is going to happen, Bean.”
Jerry Macy leaned back in the roomy porch rocker, half-closed blue eyes
squinting prophetically up at the turquoise August sky. “Yes, sir; it
is.”
“Several fine things _ought_ to happen, but they haven’t.” Marjorie Dean
Macy’s emphasis upon the “ought” was energetically wistful.
“Something celostrous is coming this way,” Jerry continued to maintain.
“It’s in the air.”
“I wish it would hurry up, and come, then. Captain was to be home from
the beach yesterday. _She_ hasn’t happened. Leila owes me a letter.
_That_ hasn’t happened yet. I haven’t heard from her for over a month,
or from Vera, either. And there is Hamilton Arms, still boarded up and
with no sign of Miss Susanna, or Jonas. Where is everybody? That’s what
_I’d_ like to know.”
“_I’m_ with you yet, Mrs. Macy,” Jerry reminded pertinently. “And
incidentally, you still have a nice kind husband.” She beamed upon the
lovely occupant of the porch swing with pretended solicitude.
“Thank you for reminding me of my blessings.” Marjorie nodded laughing
gratitude at Jerry. “What do you _think_ is going to happen, wise
sooth-sayer?” she asked in the next breath.
“Um-m-m.” Jerry’s eyes opened a trifle wider. She thrust her dimpled
chin forward at a ridiculous angle, peering owlishly about her as though
about to pick an answer to Marjorie’s question out of the sunlit August
air. “Search me,” she said after a moment, then giggled.
“_You_ are a fake.” Marjorie pointed a derisive finger at Jerry.
“Nope. I’m not. I have a pleasant little hunch that we’re either going
to see somebody we’ve not expected to see, or else hear from somebody
we’ve not expected to hear from. Now, do you get me, Marjorie Bean
Macy?”
“Who, I wonder?” Marjorie said speculatively. “Not Ronny. I used to call
her the great unexpected. But I needn’t hope, this time, to see her. I
received her first honeymoon letter to me only last week. No, Ronny will
have to be counted out of your hunch, Jeremiah.” Marjorie sighed
regretfully. Her affection for Veronica Lynne, her California comrade
and chum, was deep-rooted.
“She certainly handed the Travelers the surprise of their lives last
June. I’ll never forget that last spread in her room on Commencement
night, and her calm announcement to us that she was going home to be
married to Professor Leonard in July at the old mission at Mañana. She
_was_ the great unexpected that night, I’ll say. I haven’t got over it
yet. I never even suspected those two were miles deep in love, and
Jeremiah nearly lost her reputation then and there, for knowing
something about everything.”
“Ronny was always a mystery from the first time I met her playing maid
at Miss Archer’s. She was always a delightful mystery, too. Somehow, it
seemed quite in keeping that she should have given us all such a
surprise about Professor Leonard. I’d never even dreamed of Ronny as in
love with any man. Perhaps I might have suspected last year how things
were between her and Professor Leonard if I hadn’t been so dreadfully
unsettled in mind about Hal. I doubt it, though. I’m still surprised
that you let it get by _you_, Jeremiah.”
“And I’m even more surprised that Leila Harper never suspected them as
on the brink of love,” Jerry returned.
“I’m going to tell you something, Jerry.” Marjorie was smiling
reminiscently. “I promised Ronny never to tell anyone except you,
something she told me just before she left Hamilton, and I was not to
tell you until after we’d received her announcement cards.”
“Go ahead. Shoot.” Jerry sat suddenly straight in her chair, eyes
fastened interestedly upon Marjorie’s smiling features.
“Ronny never even dreamed Professor Leonard loved her until just before
my wedding. They were alone together after classes in the gymnasium on
the day before my wedding. They had been talking of Hal and me,
and—well—suddenly he began to tell her about himself. His mother was a
Spanish Mexican of very good family, and his father met her while he was
professor in a Mexican university. Professor Leonard told Ronny that he
hoped someday to establish a welfare station and school for poor Mexican
children in Mexico. Then quite suddenly he told her how dearly he loved
her, but would not ask her to share such a life of sacrifice, and
perhaps privation, as his future would undoubtedly hold.
“She’d known for quite a while that she cared for him, but thought he
hadn’t cared for her in any other than a friendly way. She was so
dumbfounded she couldn’t say a word at first. He thought he had
displeased her, and she had a hard time trying to make him understand
that he hadn’t; that she truly loved him, and wished more than anything
else to marry him and help him carry out his great plan. She never said
a word to him about his plan being one of her father’s pet dreams, but
she wrote her father to come to Hamilton for a flying visit, so as to
meet Professor Leonard, and talk with him. He came and stayed in town at
the Hamilton house for two days, and, during that time, the three of
them came to a perfect understanding of one another. No one except they
two knew Mr. Lynne was in Hamilton.”
“_Good night!_” Jerry thus vented her astonishment. “I know _one_ thing,
Ronny would have told you. She’d have included you in that little family
confab, too, if you hadn’t been up North, on your own honeymoon.”
“Yes, she told me she would have,” Marjorie admitted, coloring. “But
that was only because I was the first friend she made in Sanford, you
know.”
“Yep. I know. Bing, bang; here goes a new jingle.” Jerry raised a
declaiming hand and recited:
“Oh glorious Bean, why hide your sheen,
Beneath a bushel’s shade.
Your friends all lean on you, good Bean,
On you their hopes are stayed.”
“If your jingle were about someone else, I’d praise it as a triumphant
inspiration. Since it isn’t—you’re a ridiculous person, Jeremiah. I
think I’ve told you that before now.” Marjorie was regarding Jerry with
tolerant amusement. “Kindly repeat that jingle, before you forget it.
Oh, yes, and wait until I go for a pencil and paper. I promised Leila
faithfully never to let the fruits of your jingling get by me,
complimentary to me, or no.”
Laughing, Marjorie sprang from the swing and hurried lightly into the
house. She was smiling to herself in pure contentment of spirit as she
passed through the reception hall and on into the library. Her new home,
to which she had come only two weeks before from a lengthy honeymoon,
spent in the Adirondacks, was still a matter of delighted wonder to her.
During Hal’s and her absence, Mr. and Mrs. Dean had been happily
occupied in putting the new home of the happy pair to rights, against
the day when they should turn their faces toward Hamilton Estates.
Readers of the MARJORIE DEAN HIGH SCHOOL, COLLEGE and POST GRADUATE
SERIES can already claim Marjorie and her intimate girl-associates as
old friends. They have followed the fortunes of this particular band of
devoted chums through both bright and stormy days.
MARJORIE DEAN MACY saw the happy culmination of the romance between
Marjorie and Hal Macy in her marriage to him, on a balmy May Day evening
at Hamilton Arms, the home of her friend, Miss Susanna Hamilton.
It was now the last of August. Marjorie and Hal had taken possession of
their new home the middle of August in order to see Mr. and Mrs. Dean
off for a two weeks’ stay at their old standby, Severn Beach. Jerry
Macy, deep in preparations for her marriage to Danny Seabrooke to take
place on the eighth of September, had been unable to resist Marjorie’s
affectionate invitation to come to her and Hal’s new home as the first
guest to enter the hospitable portals of “Travelers’ Rest.”
“I’ve been here over a week, Mrs. M. D. Macy,” she announced as Marjorie
returned to the veranda with a pencil and small leather note book. “I
simply must hit the trail for Sanford, not later than day after
tomorrow. Danny’ll think I’ve lost interest in the marriage idea, and
quit him cold.”
“I know you _ought_ to go,” Marjorie nodded. “I’ve loved having you here
with Hal and me.”
“You might have a worse sister-in-law,” Jerry pointed out with a sly
grin.
“I couldn’t have a better one. I know that,” came with quick loyalty
from Marjorie. “What a lot of wonderful things have happened to the Big
Six since they paraded home from high school together in good old
Sanford.”
“Um-m-m. I should say there had. But, do you know, Marjorie, I used to
hope, back in those days that some day you’d marry Hal, and become my
sister-in-law. After we entered Hamilton and you seemed to care nothing
at all for him, except as a friend, it made me feel blue as sixty, at
times. Honestly, I never believed then you would finally wake up and
fall in love with him.” Jerry’s chubby features grew reminiscently
solemn.
“I wonder now that I could have been so hard-hearted,” Marjorie made
frank reply. “How could I have hurt Hal so deeply? That’s what I ask
myself sometimes in the midst of the happiness his love has brought me.
I can understand now how Brooke Hamilton must have grieved over Angela.
It was his diary that woke me up. And to think! I almost missed love.”
Marjorie was looking very sober herself.
“Here we sit, solemn as two owls, talking about what didn’t happen,
thank goodness.” Jerry’s roguish smile crinkled her lips. “While we’re
on the subject, I’ll tell you a secret. It was the way you turned Hal
down that started me to thinking seriously about Danny. I’d always liked
Danny a whole lot, but, somehow, I could never take him seriously.
Whenever he’d show signs of growing serious, I’d laugh at him. Finally,
when you and Hal flivvered, it worried both Danny and me. We did manage
one or two serious talks about that. It drew us closer together in
sympathy, somehow, and the night we went sailing in the _Oriole_, you
remember that night, I realized that he meant a great deal more to me
than I’d believed he could. That very night, while we were at the wheel
together, I fell in love with him. And you’re the first person I ever
told it to, and you’ll be the last. Believe me, I never let him suspect
it, though, until a whole year later.”
“I’m highly honored, Jeremiah.” Marjorie’s words held fond appreciation.
“I’m so glad you wished me to know about you and Danny. Frankly, I’d
often wondered when and how you and he came to an understanding. You’re
such a secretive old dear. I used to imagine you didn’t care the least
little bit about Danny. I was sure he cared for you, though.”
“I wasn’t sure,” Jerry made blunt response. “I mean, not until that
summer we were at Severn Beach.” Jerry became silent, an absent gleam
springing into her merry blue eyes. “And I’m going home day after
tomorrow to get ready to be married to Dan-yell,” she suddenly broke out
with a half humorous inflection. “Can you beat that?”
“No, I can’t.” Marjorie shook a smiling head. “I think it’s——”
“There’s the mail man!” Jerry sang out, the absent gleam in her eyes
changing to one of eager expectation. “Come on.” She sprang up from her
chair, and ran down the steps, waving a beckoning arm to Marjorie.
The porch swing rocked wildly as Marjorie left it in a quick rush after
Jerry. The pair raced down the wide stone walk to the high arched stone
gateway, bringing up, laughing, beside the mail box, fastened to a post,
just inside the entrance gates.
“Oh, bother! I forgot the key!” Marjorie exclaimed in mild vexation.
“I have it. I brought it out on the veranda with me. Kindly recall that
I’ve been expecting a love letter from my intended,” she reminded,
chuckling. “I got ready to grab it.” She fished the little key from a
diminutive, lace-trimmed pocket of her frock.
“You’re a life-saver,” Marjorie sighed relief.
Jerry had already busied herself with fitting the key to the lock.
“_Great guns!_” she ejaculated, as she swung open the little door of the
box. “_Some mail._”
There were eleven letters, according to her pleasantly-excited count.
“Seven for you, two for old Hal, and three for me,” she announced,
handing Marjorie her letters and Hal’s. “One of mine is from Mother.
I’ll say it’s a ‘Why don’t you come home, Jerry,’ message. One’s from
Ronny. It’s high time she wrote me. This one’s from Muriel Harding, and
it’s postmarked ‘New York.’ Now what the dickens is she doing in New
York? I thought she was at Severn Beach. Curiosity wins. I’ll read hers
first.”
Jerry conducted this lively monologue as she hastily tore open an end of
the envelope addressed in Muriel Harding’s familiar swinging hand. She
extracted the letter from the envelope, glanced quickly down the first
page, then gave a funny little shout of surprise.
“Catch me,” she implored. “I’m going to drop dead of surprise. Muriel
Harding, _you rascal_. _I told_ you something was going to happen, Bean.
Well, has it happened? I guess, yes.”
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