|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 52
"Indeed it is not," protested Betty. "Some day I'll follow out the whole
train of suggestions for you, how your shilling made me think of an old
rhyme, and that rhyme of something else, and so on, until the whole
plot lay out before me. There isn't time now. It is almost your Latin
period."
Mary rose to go. "Once I should have been doubtful about accepting such
a big favour from any one," she said slowly. "But I've found out now how
delightful it is to do things for people you love with money you've
earned yourself. Now Jack's watch-fob, for instance. He was immensely
pleased with it. I know, not only from what he wrote himself, but from
what mamma said. Yet his pleasure in getting it was not a circumstance
to mine in giving it. Not that I mean it will be that way about the New
York visit," she added hastily, seeing the amused twinkle in Betty's
eyes. "Oh, _you_ know what I mean," she cried in confusion. "That
usually it's that way, but in this case it will be a thousand times
blesseder to _receive_, and I never can thank you enough."
Throwing her arms around Betty's neck she planted an impetuous kiss on
each cheek and ran out of the room.
Part of that first check went to the photographer, for every one of the
fifteen Freshmen claimed a picture, and many of the Seniors who had
worshipped her from afar when they were Freshmen, and she the star of
the Senior class, begged the same favour. The one which fell to Mary's
share stood on her dressing-table several days and then disappeared. She
felt disloyal when some of the other girls who kept theirs prominently
displayed, came in and looked around inquiringly. She evaded their
questions but was moved to confess to Betty herself one day.
"I--I--sent your picture to Jack. Just for him to look at and send right
back, you know, but he won't send it, I hope you don't mind. He says he
needs it to keep him from forgetting what the ideal American girl is
like. They don't have them in Lone-Rock. There isn't any young society
there at all. And he was so interested in hearing about your literary
successes. You know he has always been interested in you ever since
Joyce came back from the first house-party and told us about you."
That Betty blushed when Mary proceeded to further confessions and quoted
Jack's remarks about her picture is not to be wondered at, and that Mary
should see the blush and promptly report it in her next letter to Jack
was quite as inevitable. She had no idea how many times during his busy
days his glance rested on the photograph on his desk.
It was not the typical American girl as portrayed by Gibson or Christy,
but it pleased him better in every way. He liked the sweet seriousness
of the smooth brows, the steady glance of the trustful brown eyes, and
the little laughter lines about the mouth. Back in God's country, he
sometimes mused, fellows knew girls like that. Played golf and tennis
with them, rode with them, picnicked with them, sat out in the moonlight
with them, talking and singing in a spirit of gay comradery that they
only half-appreciated, because they had never starved for want of it as
he was doing.
It hadn't been so bad at the Wigwam, for Joyce was always doing
something to keep things stirred up; making the most of the material at
hand. It wasn't that he minded the grind and the responsibility of his
work. He would gladly have shouldered more in his zeal to push ahead. It
was the thought that all work and no play was making him the proverbial
dull boy, and that he would be an old man before his time, if he went on
without anything to relieve the deadly monotony. The spirit of youth in
him was crying out for kindred companionship.
All unconscious of the interest she was arousing, Mary filled her
letters with reference to Betty; how they all adored her, and how she
was always in demand as a chaperon, because she was just a girl herself
and could understand how they felt and was such good fun. Presently
when word came that she had scored another triumph, that one of the
leading magazines had accepted a short story, Jack was moved to send her
a note of congratulation.
Now Jack had been as well known to Betty as she to him since the days of
the long-ago house-party. When he made his brief visit to The Locusts
just before she left for Warwick Hall, they had met like old friends,
each familiar with the other's past Unquestioningly she had accepted
Papa Jack's estimate of him as the squarest young fellow he had ever
met--"true blue in every particular, and a hustler when it comes to
bringing things to pass."
Now for five months Mary had talked of him so incessantly, especially
while they were visiting Joyce, that Betty had it impressed upon her
mind beyond forgetting, that no matter what else he might be he was
quite the best brother who had ever lived in the knowledge of man. In
answer to her cordial little note of acknowledgment came a letter
explaining in a frank straightforward way why he had kept her picture,
and how he longed sometimes for the friendships and social life he could
not have in a little mining-town. And because there was a question in it
about Mary, asking the advisability of her taking some extra course she
had mentioned, Betty answered it promptly.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|