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[Illustration: Marjorie remained in the shadow watching the car.]
MARJORIE DEAN
COLLEGE SENIOR
By PAULINE LESTER
Author of
"Marjorie Dean, College Freshman," "Marjorie Dean,
College Sophomore," "Marjorie Dean, College Junior,"
and
The Marjorie Dean High School Series
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers--New York
THE
Marjorie Dean College Series
A Series of Stories for Girls 12 to 18 Years of Age
By PAULINE LESTER
Marjorie Dean, College Freshman
Marjorie Dean, College Sophomore
Marjorie Dean, College Junior
Marjorie Dean, College Senior
Copyright, 1922
By A. L. BURT COMPANY
MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SENIOR
Made in "U. S. A."
MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SENIOR.
CHAPTER I--A QUESTION FOR THE FUTURE
"Tomorrow evening at this time I'll be back in my old room at Hamilton.
Tonight, the Country of College seems very far away. Tomorrow, it will
be Sanford that seems so."
Marjorie Dean smiled frankly up into Hal Macy's rather sober face. The
strains of a slow waltz were throbbing to an harmonic end. Hal and his
sister Jerry were giving a farewell hop in honor of the five Lookouts
who were to return to Hamilton College the next day. Hal was thinking,
as he looked down at Marjorie's lovely, upraised face that no one, not
even her father and mother, would miss her as he should.
"And who are you going to miss most?" he asked boldly, his eyes
twinkling, nevertheless. "If you say myself, I shall be _so_ flustered.
You never say nice things to me, you know."
"I'm not going to begin now," Marjorie returned mischievously. "I shall
miss General and Captain most, _of course_."
"And _me_ next most. I'll say it for you, since you have no regard for
my tender feelings. I think I ought to be ranked next to General and
Captain," Hal persisted audaciously.
"You do come next to them Hal--you and Connie and Laurie. The old guard
are next dearest," Marjorie hastily assured. "Oh, dear, the waltz is
ending! I wish it would begin all over again. I like waltzing much
better than fox trotting or one-stepping. And I love that particular
waltz. It is called 'In Sunny Gardens,' and there is a certain
suggestion of the title in the music, I think."
Marjorie had sought hasty refuge in commenting on the waltz music just
ended. Hal might appear to be joking. Marjorie knew he was not. During
the summer vacation she had been in his company a great deal. The Deans
had spent the summer at Severn Beach, a seaside resort patronized yearly
by the Macys. Jerry and Marjorie had been constantly together, with Hal
a delightfully persistent third party, whenever the two girls allowed
him the privilege.
Hal Macy had been Marjorie's devoted cavalier since the beginning of her
high school days. Three years older than herself, he was already sure of
his love for her. Marjorie, however, regarded him through the eyes of
friendship only. She was still too greatly absorbed in college to make
room in her life for romance. To her it was a vague something too remote
from her mind to be considered. She did not wish Hal to be other than
her friend of the old days. The bare thought of changing that pleasant
friendly footing for a fonder relationship was repugnant to her.
"I'll ask the musicians to play that waltz again, if you like, Marjorie.
Say the word."
Any momentary disappointment Hal might have felt did not betray itself
in his tones. It was not the first time Marjorie had refused to take him
seriously. He understood her too well to feel more than a momentary
twinge over her indifference toward sentiment.
"Oh, never mind, Hal. I only said that because I liked the music so
much. Thank you, just the same."
"Have some lemonade, then. I am determined to please you, if I can." Hal
took gentle hold on Marjorie's arm and began steering her toward the
lemonade bowl which stood at one end of the long room.
"You always please me, Hal," was the instant response. "You are the best
boy ever was, and I never fail to have a perfectly scrumptious time at
yours and Jerry's parties. Now _you_ can't say again that I never said
anything nice to you."
"That's not bad for a beginning." Hal put on a critical expression. "Say
something else nice to me." His eyes regarded her very steadily now.
"Let me see." Marjorie knitted her brows. "Well, I wish we had a ball
room like this. We always have to dance in our living room, you know."
"It's a good old room. We have had some fine times here." Hal found it
harder this time to be casual, but he succeeded. It was plain to be seen
Marjorie didn't care a button about him, except as a friend. He resolved
to keep the conversation strictly impersonal thereafter.
Marjorie was hard-hearted enough to feel glad of the change in Hal's
tone. His almost humbly-expressed desire to please her had touched her.
It had brought forth from her the sincere little speech regarding her
liking for him. The deepening light in his eyes, however, had warned her
to rush from the subject to one more comfortably impersonal.
"I'm going to be lonesome this winter, Marjorie," Hal continued. "I am
about the only fellow in the crowd I've always run with to be left in
Sanford. Danny's going to New York to study law. Did I tell you the
Crane is going to Buffalo to take charge of a branch of his governor's
business? Harry Lenox is going on the road for their business. And
Laurie!" Hal made a gesture of resignation. "He'll not be far away. Only
the Atlantic Ocean between us! That's all! I was in hopes he wouldn't go
back to Europe this winter. Circumstances, however--" Hal stopped
suddenly.
The significance of his tone caused Marjorie to interrogate quickly:
"Circumstances? What do you mean, Hal?"
"It is plain you haven't heard something you are due to hear. I can't
explain. I can only say this--Don't be surprised at anything you may
hear." Hal made this mysterious assertion with the suspicion of a
tantalizing smile.
Before Marjorie could inquire further as to his meaning, Danny Seabrooke
joined them with: "The next dance will be a fox trot. Bid Macy a
pleasant but sudden farewell, Marjorie, and prepare to dance it with me.
I am a much better dancer than he. You will have something agreeable to
look forward to." He simpered at Marjorie, then closed one eye and
squinted reflectively at Hal.
"Hope you'll be in condition to dance that fox trot." The silky
intonation was not without menace.
"I trust that I shall. It all depends. If I can persuade Marjorie to
leave this danger-laden spot at once, all will be well."
"Don't be too confident. There's many a slip----"
"I know it," Danny cut in wisely. "I have fallen down three times on
this floor tonight. I know all about that slip business."
This confession merely provoked unsympathetic laughter on the part of
his hearers.
The lively music of the fox trot beginning, Danny made an elaborate
salaam to Marjorie.
"Goodbye for the present, Hal. I'm coming back to quiz you about that
mysterious remark you just made," she called over her shoulder as she
started to dance away.
"You may expect _me_, too," assured Danny. "Farewell!" He beamed
foolishly at Hal and waved his hand.
"Farewell. You needn't mind coming back, Dan-yell," Hal flung ironically
after him.
Readers of the "Marjorie Dean High School Series," comprising the four
volumes, "Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman," "Marjorie Dean, High
School Sophomore," "Marjorie Dean, High School Junior," and "Marjorie
Dean, High School Senior," are already in close touch with Marjorie and
her friends.
Those who have been pleased to follow her through four years of high
school life have undoubtedly been interested in her further doings as a
student at Hamilton College. The account of her three years of hard
study and progress, both social and mental, has been faithfully set down
in "Marjorie Dean, College Freshman," "Marjorie Dean, College
Sophomore," and "Marjorie Dean, College Junior."
During the spirited fox trot Marjorie wondered busily as to the meaning
of Hal's remark. Her musings were forcedly disjointed. Danny now and
again interpolated into his dancing an additional funny step which kept
her attention on him.
The dance over, she promptly sought Hal. Now he was disposed to be
thoroughly tantalizing. He laughed at her and accused her of undue
curiosity.
"_All right!_ Keep your old secret, Mister Stingy!" she at last
exclaimed in laughing vexation. "I won't dance with you again this
evening, just to pay you for being so aggravating."
"It isn't my secret," Hal began by way of conciliation. "The reason I
mentioned it to you was because I was told you were to share it. Go and
find Connie. She will tell you. I've told you too much already. I'm a
_fine_ repository for secrets." Hal put sarcastic emphasis on the
"fine."
"I'll forgive you when I find out what it is. There goes Connie now. I'm
going to ask her." Marjorie hurried off to intercept Constance, who was
crossing the floor.
"Oh, Lieutenant!" Constance exclaimed, her fair face radiant. "I was
just looking for you. I've something to report."
"Go ahead. I've something to report, too," Marjorie returned gayly. "Let
us go downstairs to the window seat. We can have a wee little talk
there."
Arm in arm the two girls steered their course to the door of the ball
room. At the foot of the rather steep stairway was a double window with
a deep cushioned seat. There they settled themselves for an exchange of
confidences. The full light of the white, sailing moon flooded the
window seat, lending to the two young faces an enchantment of beauty.
Constance was wearing a pale blue chiffon frock, embellished here and
there with small clusters of pinkish-white rosebuds. It was a facsimile
of a blue gown long since laid away as a treasure of a by-gone day. The
worn-out gown of blue chiffon had been Marjorie's first gracious gift to
Constance.
"You look just exactly as you did the night of the Hallowe'en party when
you wore the other blue dress, Connie," Marjorie said. "Will you ever
forget that night?"
"No. I couldn't. I still count it as the most eventful night of my life.
It was my first dance, my first party dress, my first meeting with
Laurie." Constance became suddenly silent. Her hand reached out and
found one of Marjorie's.
"What is it, Connie?" Marjorie understood that Constance had something
special on her mind which she was about to impart.
"I--I--Oh, Marjorie! I am not going to wait to be married to Laurie next
June when he comes back from Europe. I am going to be married to him on
Thanksgiving Day and go to Europe with him. We're going to study
together there."
"Why, Connie Stevens! You take my breath!" Marjorie, who had been
sitting very straight relaxed with a little, "Ah-h!"
"I knew you'd be flabbergasted." Constance's reply was tenderly
apologetic. "I just had to tell you, though. We would be married as
early as October, but, if we were, then you girls couldn't come to our
wedding on account of college restrictions. It will be a very quiet
wedding. When we come home next June we will give a reception and invite
all our friends. I am so happy, Marjorie. I couldn't bear to be
separated from Laurie for another year." Constance hid her glowing face
against Marjorie's shoulder.
Marjorie listened to Constance, not yet over her first amazement at the
news. Hal's words, "Don't be surprised at anything you may hear,"
returned with force.
"It's a beautiful plan, Connie," she approved, when she found her voice
again. Both arms went out to encircle her friend.
"I knew you would agree with us." Constance gave a little sigh of
satisfaction. "Aunt Susan was not pleased, at first. She wished to
announce our betrothal formally at a reception for me this winter. She
has been so dear to us. She was broad-minded enough to allow for such
stray musicians as Laurie and me. Neither of us care about pomp and
ceremony, you know."
Constance raised her head. In her blue dress, with the moonlight playing
upon her soft, childish features and golden hair, Marjorie thought she
looked even younger than she had appeared at the eventful Hallowe'en
party. Then, poverty and unhappiness had marred her beauty. Now, it had
grown with every good gift that had been showered upon her.
"Marjorie," she continued very solemnly: "I have never said a word to
you before, but--" with a slight pause, "I hope you will marry Hal some
day. I am sure he loves you as dearly as Laurie loves me." Constance
spoke with the sincerity of the truly happy. She had found love. "You
have always been friendly with Hal, but I understand you don't love him
now. I have watched you both, and I know he cares a great deal more for
you than you for him. I don't mean I wish you would fall in love with
Hal tomorrow or next week or even next year, but, someday, I hope you
will."
"I don't wish to fall in love with Hal or anybody else." Marjorie shook
her head with a decision that loosened a curl from the thick, wavy
masses of hair drawn over her ears. She frowned down the remote
possibility of such a catastrophe. "It has always been different with
you and Laurie than with Hal and me. You two were really lovers as far
back as your sophomore year at Sanford High. Hal and I have been just
good friends, and so far as I am concerned, we are going to stay _just
good friends_."