AT THE ARMS
A few days of work on the part of a steady and greatly chastened crew of
men convinced Peter Graham that his return to good fortune was not a
dream. At the garage site nothing stirred save the wind-swept branches
of the trees and drifting dead leaves or swaying frozen weeds.
Leslie Cairns had not waited in Hamilton for the coming of the fifteenth
of March. She and Mrs. Gaylord had gone to New York on the day following
the receipt of her letter. She had not said good-bye to Doris. She
intended to write the sophomore. Further she would go back to Hamilton
later, if she chose. Her first grief at her father’s cutting letter had
changed into a slow-kindling resentment. It promised presently to
dominate her future acts. She had determined to learn for herself when
she returned to New York if her father could wipe out her entire
fortune. It consisted of several gilt-edged investments. She was
confident she would find a way to secure at least a part of it from him.
She would fight him through the courts, should he try to impoverish her.
He had cast her out of his affections. She would stamp out her regard
for him.
While she vengefully sulked and prepared for a hasty departure from
Hamilton, Marjorie and Jerry Macy had joined the household at Hamilton
Arms. Their first sensations had been those of strangeness of their
roomy quarters after the closer confinement of Wayland Hall. They had a
somberly beautiful suite of sitting room, immense sleeping room with
twin carved mahogany beds and bathroom containing the luxury of a sunken
bath.
They had made a triumphal entry into the Arms surrounded by their chums
who had been invited to celebrate the arrival of the beloved guests. The
Travelers had delivered Marjorie and Jerry into Miss Susanna’s keeping
with an exuberance of joy resulting from their appreciation of the
triumph of Page and Dean over Leslie Cairns. From Baretti’s, Robin and
Marjorie had hurried to Wayland Hall, gathered their chums into Room 15,
and joyfully told them the news. In consequence, the elation attending
the disclosure served to banish the wrench of parting.
The Saturday afternoon following their move to the Arms Miss Susanna
gave a reception in honor of the Travelers to the dormitory girls. The
guests of honor assembled on Friday night, burdened with their reception
finery. They stayed that night at the Arms and did their own decorating
of the stately rooms the next morning. In honor of their senior “dorms”
a flower scheme of daffodils and violets had been carried out in
fragrant profusion in all the rooms and at the tables of the famous
Chinese tea room where sweets, ices and tea were served. Purple and gold
were the senior colors and the modest senior dorms were inclined to be
somewhat abashed at this compliment to them. Anna Towne plaintively
expressed their opinion when she said: “All this attention makes us
believe we count. I hope we do!”
Marjorie had been at the Arms a week before Miss Susanna mentioned
Brooke Hamilton in connection with the literary labor to be performed.
She understood Miss Hamilton well enough to guess that the peculiar old
lady was not yet ready to talk about the biography Marjorie was to
write.
“I suppose you’ve been wondering, Marvelous Manager, why you haven’t
been set to work as an author and biographer,” Miss Hamilton addressed
Marjorie from the sunny bow window of the old-time sitting room where
she had been watering a fragrant rosy mass of window box sweet peas. She
picked half a dozen dainty clusters of them and trotted over to Marjorie
with them. She tucked them into Marjorie’s thick curls, rolled up at the
back of her shapely young head. “There, you look like the awakening of
spring, child,” she declared. “Come, now, you and I will go up to the
study.”
“Really, Miss Susanna?” Marjorie sprang up from her chair, radiant at
the prospect.
“Yes, really. You’re not polite, or you’d take what I say for granted.”
“Always, in future,” promised Marjorie, holding up one hand. She wound
her other arm about Miss Hamilton’s waist.
“Jerry has gone to the garage with Jonas for the car. While she is
bringing it up I am going to do something for you which seems important
to me. I am going to introduce you to Uncle Brooke. He will welcome you
as a friend and make over to you all his papers.”
Miss Susanna paused, her eyes searching Marjorie’s face in the bright,
bird-like way which meant accurate appraisal.
“Go on; please do,” Marjorie breathed, showing her utter fascination of
the supernatural-sounding announcement. “It is such a beautiful thought,
that of going with you to his study to be introduced to him as a friend.
Afterward I will gradually come to the point where I can look over his
papers and not feel—” Marjorie studied an instant “—like an old Paul
Pry,” she added, smiling.
“Precisely my idea,” emphasized the mistress of the Arms. “Let’s be on
our way.” She wound an arm around Marjorie’s waist. Wise youth and
youthful age paraded out into the hall and up the broad staircase,
clinging to each other in fond, school girl way.
The door of the study was a little ajar, as though someone within the
room had anticipated the visit of Miss Susanna. The study door was
generally closed. Marjorie knew Miss Susanna had set it to suit her
fancy.
The two paused before the door. Miss Hamilton gently drew herself free
from Marjorie’s arm. She lifted a hand and rapped lightly on a door
panel. Then she stood in an attitude of alert listening. Marjorie knew
she was re-acting a daily episode of the long ago. “He is there,” she
said softly to Marjorie. “I will go first. Follow me.”
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