OUR BELOVED GUESTS
“And now, Marvelous Manager, you and I will continue our walk on the
campus.”
It was almost four by the chimes clock on Hamilton Hall when Marjorie
and Miss Susanna issued from the president’s house, arm in arm. Neither
would ever forget that wonderful afternoon. It marked for Miss Susanna
the re-union with a valued friend of long ago—Hamilton College. For
Marjorie it marked the answering of a most perplexing question. She
believed buoyantly that with the answer was bound to come a new era of
fellowship on the campus, far greater than had ever before manifested
itself among the students.
“I can’t really believe it’s true, Miss Susanna,” she said happily;
“that you and I are actually walking together across the campus. I feel
as though, all of a sudden; whisk! there’d come a magic wind and you’d
disappear and I’d wake up to find myself walking along alone.”
“Not quite so bad as that. Let me tell you, I’m very real.” Miss Susanna
gave Marjorie’s arm an only half gentle pinch. “There,” she said, “was
that hard enough to convince you that I am not a campus sprite. I’m a
crabbed old woman, ready to pinch if the occasion demands it.”
“I’m glad as can be you are real. I’m glad I know more now of how
splendid you are than ever I knew before. I’m glad you’d rather have
your own Marvelous Manager write the biography than even Prexy Matthews.
I’m glad you have at last condescended to come and see me.” Marjorie had
begun enthusiastically, gathering more enthusiasm as she rushed from one
gladness on to another. She ended with a satisfied little exhalation of
breath.
“You are a compendium of gladnesses, child.” Miss Hamilton smiled very
tenderly at the glowing, graceful girl at her side. “Well, it is good to
be here; to walk the old green again, even though it isn’t very green at
present. I used to love the campus, Marjorie. I experienced a queer
little thrill that day when you told me your best friend at Hamilton was
the campus. I loved it in the same way when I was a student here.”
“And you never told me you were a graduate of Hamilton,” Marjorie
lightly reproached. She stopped short on the campus. “I think you ought
to be pinched on that account.”
“You never asked me where I was educated,” Miss Susanna replied,
chuckling.
“I always meant to. Somehow I never did.” Marjorie looked reflective.
“You see, at first, I never felt you would like me to ask you any
personal questions. After I came to know you well we had so many other
things to talk about I never again thought of asking you. That must be
the reason.” She gave a positive little nod.
“It must be,” the old lady agreed half jestingly. “I know that I used to
be afraid you would say or do something, when first you came to the Arms
to see me, that might cause me to dislike you. But you never did until
the day we fell out about that snip of a girl who tried to run her car
over me. I was a pig-headed, obstinate old chump that day, child.”
“Oh, no you weren’t. Now I _shall_ pinch you for calling yourself
names.” Marjorie affectionately made good her threat. “I’m going to keep
on with these crab-like nips until you promise never to mention such
ancient history again.”
“I had no idea you were such a bully. I’ll have to pretend good
behavior. I never supposed anyone would care if I called myself
disrespectful names,” giggled the amused old lady.
“You never know what may happen,” Marjorie blithely told her. “Look,
Miss Susanna.” She pointed out a mammoth elm tree just ahead of them at
their right. “That’s my favorite campus tree. During the spring and
summer, until late in the fall, there are seats placed underneath it.
Whenever I find a few minutes to relax and be downright lazy, I steer
straight for that tree. Jerry calls it the Bean tree and the seats the
Bean holders. She says all Bean supporters belong to the genus Bean.
Hence the name Bean holders.”
Marjorie continued to entertain Miss Susanna in this gay strain as she
proudly conducted her across the campus and toward Wayland Hall. On the
stone walk leading up to the Hall the distinguished visitor halted for a
prolonged look around.
“The same old Hall,” she half sighed. “I’ve lived for years almost in
sight of it without having once seen it. I’ve cared for it more than the
others because he liked it so well. And I never even suspected why he
cared until I went over some of his papers after he died. You’ll read
the story for yourself, Marjorie, when you come to the Arms to stay with
me and write the biography. When do you think that will be, child?” she
questioned, an eager, hungry light leaping into her eyes.
“I—I don’t know, Miss Susanna.” Marjorie looked concerned. “Not really
to stay, perhaps, before spring. When we come back from Sanford after
the holidays I’ll try to come almost every afternoon to the Arms. I’ll
stay until about nine o’clock in the evening. Promise to give me my
dinner, and plenty of it, O, Lady of the Arms? I’m always ravenous when
dinner time comes.” She merrily endeavored to stave off disappointment
from Miss Susanna.
“You may have a dozen dinners every night since that is all you demand,”
the old lady assured with reckless hospitality. The slight shadow,
called to her features by Marjorie’s first doubtful words of reply,
faded instantly. “‘Half a loaf is better than no bread,’” she quoted
with a kind of resigned content. “I hope you and Jerry will be able to
settle down with me at the Arms by the first of March. I’d like you to
see spring awaken at the old place. It is a memorable experience; to
live and breathe with the return of spring in a beauty spot like
Hamilton Arms. I look forward to and pass through it each year with
wonder and gratitude toward my Creator,” she ended reverently.
“I promise you, Jerry and I will surely be with you at the Arms to greet
the spring,” Marjorie declared impulsively, imbued with the inspiration
of her elderly friend’s deep sentiment. “It’s so comforting to know that
Jerry is to come to the Arms with me. I’d hate so to leave her to room
alone. The other girls would baby her and rush her if I were not at the
Hall. She would miss me dreadfully, only she would try not to let me or
anyone else know it.”
“Jerry can keep Jonas and me amused and in good humor,” Miss Susanna
said humorously. “I expect to enjoy her company hugely while you are
tucked demurely away in the study, living over life at Hamilton as Uncle
Brooke found it. I shall make Jerry help me organize a grand social
campaign. We’ll have the Travelers, old and new, here often to dinner
and tea. And we’ll entertain the dormitory girls some fine spring
afternoon and evening.”
Marjorie drew a long, ecstatic breath. “Oh, splendid!” she cried. “It’s
simply one glorious good fortune piled on another for the Travelers,
Miss Susanna.”
“You forget how much more it means to me. I am a greater gainer than the
Travelers. I’m still looking strictly out for my own interest,” was the
half joking reminder.
“Oh, you!” Marjorie gave the arm she held a playful shake. “I wish you
felt it was strictly to your interest to go with me to Room 15, Wayland
Hall, to visit Jeremiah and me this afternoon.”
Her inflection was wistfully coaxing. On the afternoon previous, Miss
Susanna had announced, that, on the following afternoon she and Marjorie
would together call upon President Matthews. Marjorie had then joyfully
urged her to take tea afterward in Room 15, Wayland Hall, at a
jollification in honor of her. The mistress of the Arms had refused,
saying rather pessimistically that she doubted if she would be in the
humor for a social tea after her interview with the president of
Hamilton College. She promised instead to walk across the campus as far
as Wayland Hall. She declared musingly that she would like to have a
good look at the Hall again.
Now the momentous visit had been made and Miss Susanna was apparently in
a very delightful humor. Marjorie could not resist the golden
opportunity of making a last coaxing plea.
“I have changed my mind about not going to your room with you, Marvelous
Manager,” the old lady announced, to Marjorie’s amazement. They were
still standing on the stone walk in front of the Hall.
“I’m going to whisk you into the Hall before you have time to change it
again.” Marjorie took resolute hold of the arm she had just gently
shaken and began hurriedly marching the last of the Hamiltons up to the
veranda.
Already she was planning an impromptu reception for her beloved guest.
She hoped Miss Remson would not answer her ring of the bell. She
frequently answered the bell if she chanced to be downstairs when it
rang. To summon Miss Remson to Room 15, and have the manager and Miss
Susanna meet there should be one feature of the reception. Tea should be
another. She would levy upon Leila for maccaroons from the five pound
box she had bought yesterday. Ronny still had plenty of Mexican candied
fruit on hand. Jerry should be stripped of a precious glass jar of
salted pecans. She would ruthlessly commandeer the jar of blackberry jam
which Lucy had that morning received from home, provided it hadn’t been
devoured already. There was always a supply of crackers, saltine and
soda, on hand in 15, she reflected comfortably.
Nellie, one of the maids, answered the bell. Marjorie stretched forth a
hand and conducted Miss Susanna across the threshold in gallant fashion.
An impulse to tears rose within her as she saw an unbidden sadness steal
into her companion’s face the moment she stepped into the old-fashioned
hall. It passed instantly. Miss Susanna poked her head into the living
room and remarked on its tasteful furnishings in the most matter-of-fact
tones.
“If I had dreamed that you would positively set your magnificent foot in
my kingdom today I would have made elaborate preparations for you,”
Marjorie presently apologized, her hand on the door knob of Room 15. “As
it is, I’ll have to seat you in state in my best easy chair and rush
Jerry out for Leila, Vera and the rest of the Sanfordites. There are
certainly going to be some decidedly surprised Travelers.”
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