TWO HAUNTING BLUE EYES
“Hurray for Wayland Hall!” Jerry sketched a lively step in front of the
dressing table mirror as she gave her reflection a last fleeting glance.
“The Arms is a magnificent, palatial roost, but where, oh, where, are
our little pals?”
“At Wayland Hall. Sometimes I wonder if you might not be happier there
with the girls than here with me.” Marjorie brought a half wistful look
to bear upon Jerry. She stood gazing at her chum, a lovely contemplative
study in black and white. The straight cut of her white corduroy gown
with its wide rolling collar and deep cuffs of black satin was so simple
as to be exceptionally effective.
“Want me to shake you until your curls bob straight off your head and
your teeth clatter like castanets,” Jerry growled menacingly. She made a
threatening advance upon Marjorie, her blue eyes set in a determined
stare.
“No, indeed.” Marjorie promptly put a high-backed chair between herself
and Jerry. “I’ll protect my coiffure to the last gasp. I took pains to
put those curls precisely where I wanted them to be.”
“Then don’t make any more foolish remarks, Bean.” Jerry halted. The set
expression of her eyes changed to one of dancing fun. “I’ll set you a
good example by not making any more myself that might even sound
foolish. I know my own follies as well as I know yours.”
Marjorie leaned her arms on the crest of the tall-backed chair. She
smiled rather absently. How like Hal’s eyes Jerry’s were, she was
thinking. Recent mention of Hal had brought him to the foreground of her
mind. Now she thrust memory of him impatiently aside.
“I’ll be nicer to you than you were to me,” she told Jerry. “You look
very celostrous, Jeremiah.” “Celostrous” was a pet word of Jerry’s own
coining. “Your dress matches your eyes and the silver beading on it
looks like fairy mist. It’s a frock of frocks.” Marjorie continued her
admiring survey of Jerry and her becoming finery. As she had remarked
the gentian blue of the crepe exactly matched her chum’s eyes.
Again Hal’s handsome, resolute features sprang into memory. This time
memory played her an unkind trick. She saw Hal’s eyes as they had
appeared in that unforgettable, unguarded moment as he had paused before
the portrait of herself at Castle Dean on Christmas Day.
She had then come into a very disturbing realization of how much pain
she was causing him through her lack of love for him. She had tried to
forget, knowing that she could offer no remedy. Work had largely driven
away that disturbing memory since her return to Hamilton. Those two
blue, despairing eyes returned to haunt her only upon receipt of a
letter from their possessor. There had been only two letters. Marjorie
had not answered either very promptly. She sometimes went so far as to
feel that she might be better pleased not to hear from Hal. Still she
did not wish to deny him friendship.
“You are _too sweet_ for words.” Jerry broke in upon her train of
reflection. She purposely simpered so as to hide her pleased
embarrassment of Marjorie’s compliments.
“Am I?” Marjorie was not even seeing Jerry now. She was seeing Jerry’s
brother who refused to retire from her somber reflections. No; she
valued Hal’s friendship as dearly as she did Leila’s, Jerry’s or that of
any of her chums. Her adoration was for her captain and her general
only. Now that she had a clearer understanding of Hal’s disappointment
she felt a more personal sorrow toward him. She had glimpsed the
desolation of a strong man’s soul. The revelation had awakened in her a
truer sympathy for him.
“Come out of it.” Jerry had paused directly in front of the chair on
which Marjorie was leaning her elbows. She waved her arms making
vigorous passes before the day-dreamer’s face. “What is the matter,
Bean? Two minutes ago you were one grand sweet smile. Now your
expression is werry sad. You _have not_ lost your last friend, Bean.
Take heart. Jeremiah is here. Ah! I have it! Nothing like Bean Jingles
to put the chee in chirk. Here we go!
“Celostrous day; rip whoop-ter-ray;
We celebrate with zest:
Your feathers preen, resplendent Bean,
All dressed up in your best.”
“According to your jingle ‘resplendent Bean’ must resemble a vain,
strutting peacock.” Marjorie came out of her retrospective reverie with
a giggle.
“No, indeed. I never meant to suggest such a thing. Regard yourself as a
bird of Paradise, dear Bean,” Jerry corrected.
“I am not so conceited. Besides, I’m not dressed up in my best. This
particular set of feathers is far from gorgeous; and not even my second
best.”
“Have a heart. Remember the claim of poetic license, and respect it.
Your practical, unpoetic criticism is _so_ discouraging. Don’t put on
the brake. There are more rhythmic inspirations to come. I feel them
whirling madly in my gifted brain. I merely stopped for breath.
Whir-r-r-r! Buzz-z-z-z! I’m off again.
“Oh, forth we’ll hike, upon the pike,
Beyond the campus wall;
We’ll tread the green, sweet, agile Bean,
Until we hit the Hall.
A charming pair, we’ll mount the stair;
Dear one, then take my arm:
Safe to fifteen, bewitching Bean
I’ll guide you without harm.”
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