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.”