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Page 53
Thus it came about without her realizing just how it happened, that she
was drawn into a regular correspondence. Regular on Jack's side, at
least, for no matter whether she wrote or not, promptly every Thursday
morning a familiar looking envelope, addressed in his big businesslike
hand, appeared on her desk.
February came, not only with its George Washington tea and Valentine
party, but musicales and receptions and many excursions to the city. No
day with any claim to celebration was allowed to pass unheeded. March
held fewer opportunities, so Saint Patrick was made much of, and Mary's
sorority planned a spread up in the gymnasium in his honour. She had
never once mentioned that her birthday fell on the seventeenth also, not
even when she first proudly displayed her bloodstone ring, which they
all knew was the stone for March.
Nobody would have known that she had any especial interest in the date,
had not Jack mentioned in one of his letters to Betty that Mary would be
seventeen on the seventeenth, and he was afraid that his remembrance
would not reach her in time, as he had forgotten the day was so near
until that very moment of writing.
The whisper that went around never reached Mary. She helped decorate
the table with sprigs of artificial shamrock and Irish flags, hunted up
verses from various poets of Erin to write on the little harp-shaped
place cards, and suggested a menu which typified the "wearin' o' the
green" in every dish, from the olive sandwiches to the creme de menthe.
To further carry out the colour scheme, the girls all came in their
gymnasium suits of hunter's green, and the unconventional attire tended
to make the affair more of a frolic than the elegant function which the
sorority yearly aspired to give.
A huge birthday cake had been ordered in the jovial saint's honour, but
nobody could tell how many candles it ought to hold since no one knew
how many years he numbered. But Dorene solved the difficulty by saying,
"Let X equal the unknown quantity, and just make a big X across the cake
with the green candles."
Never once did Mary suspect that the spread was in her honour also, till
she was led to the seat at the head of the table, where another birthday
cake stood like a mound of snow with seventeen green candles all
a-twinkle. She was overwhelmed with so much distinction at first. The
musical little acrostic by the sorority poet gratified her beyond
expression. Cornie Dean's toast almost brought the tears it was so
sweet and appreciative, and the affectionate birthday wishes that
circled around the table at candle-blowing time made her feel with a
thankful heart that this early in her college life she had reached the
best it has to offer, the inner circle of its friendships.
Each one told the funniest Irish bull she had ever heard, and then all
sorts of conundrums and foolish questions were propounded, like, "Which
would you prefer, to be as green as you look or to look as green as you
are?" When the conversation touched on the birthstone for March, some
one suggested that Mary ought to be made to do some stunt to show that
she was worthy to wear a bloodstone, since it called for such high
courage.
"Make her kiss the Blarney stone!" cried Judith Ettrick.
"At Blarney castle they let you down by the heels. That's the only way
you can kiss the real stone. But Mary can hang by her knees from one of
the turning-pole bars, and we'll build up a pyramid under her to put the
Blarney stone on, so that she can barely reach it, you know. Make a
shaky one that will topple over at a breath. That will make it harder to
reach."
The suggestion was enthusiastically received by all but Mary, who felt
somewhat dubious about making the attempt, when she saw them begin to
catch up glasses and plates from the table with which to build the
pyramid. But by the time the structure was completed and topped by a
little china match-safe in the shape of a cupid, to represent the
Blarney stone, she was ready for her part of the performance.
"That's what you get for being born in Mars' month," said Elise, as Mary
balanced herself a moment on the bar, and then made a quick turn around
it to limber herself.
"You wouldn't be expected to do such things if the signs of your zodiac
were different."
"Look out!" warned Cornie. "You'll see more stars than the ones in your
horoscope if you lose your grip."
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