“What I have to say is particularly for Page and Dean though any and all Travelers are welcome to hear it,” Miss Susanna’s bright, bird-like eyes danced as she fondly surveyed her flock. A spot of vivid pink had appeared high on each cheek. She was like a youngster about to make a special confidence.

“To begin with,” she said, “it was not my business to meddle with the affairs of Page and Dean. I have no excuse to offer. I meddled because—well—I felt the need of meddling. Jonas egged me on. He’s every bit as much to blame as I.” She gave the gleeful chuckle which the girls loved so much to hear. “You two rising promoters did not know a certain man I know, and have known for years. Perhaps he is my real excuse for meddling.” The little old lady tilted her head reflectively to one side.

“That man is Peter Graham,” she continued. “The Grahams are one of the old Hamilton families. Peter Graham’s wife, Anne Dexter, and I were chums. I was Anne’s sole attendant when she married Peter. They never achieved riches as Uncle Brooke did. They were lucky in love, but have been unlucky in business. Peter is still a builder, graduated from a carpentership. As a young man he wished to study architecture. Then he married and lost track of his ambition in trying to be a creditable family man. He had a natural genius for planning houses and large buildings and did well when he could secure a contract. Hamilton is chiefly made up of old houses, mostly colonial, and staunchly built. I used to advise Peter to go away from here and establish himself in a large city where contracts were more plentiful, but Anne did not wish to leave Hamilton. Once I offered to help him and hurt his feelings dreadfully. When you talked of building a dormitory I did not at first think of Peter. After you girls had left here last June it flashed across me one afternoon as I was taking my walk that Peter’s chance had come at last.”

An audible breath of approval ascended from the attentive listeners. They were already deeply enough interested in Peter Graham to be in sympathy with his upward struggle.

“I knew I could trust Peter to give you his best in all ways,” was the positive declaration. “His bid for the entire operation—tearing down the old houses, preparing the site for the new building and erecting the dormitory was moderate in comparison with the figures I received from two widely known firms of builders. As you children have resolved to clear away the debt you will incur in building the dormitory you can do no better than trust the operation to Peter Graham. Jonas agrees with me. At first I thought of writing you about it, Marjorie. I found I did not feel like writing. I decided to tell you and Robin when you came to Hamilton. Time was flying, with nothing done. I sent for Peter and told him what I wanted. I made him happy. I know you are pleased with the progress he has made. But I don’t know what you think of Jonas and me.” She stopped with a half embarrassed laugh.

“There is only one thing we could think.” Marjorie’s face glowed with devotion. “You and Jonas must feel about Hamilton as Mr. Brooke Hamilton felt. You’d have to, in your heart, or you couldn’t have done such wonderful things for the students to come.”

“No such thing,” contradicted the old lady in an odd, harsh voice. “I mean, the way I feel about the college. Jonas is Uncle Brooke’s man, heart and soul. He still nurses all of Uncle Brooke’s plans for Hamilton College. Let us have it understood, here and now, that if a dear little friend of mine, Marjorie Dean, had not interested me in the plucky way she and her chums were fighting to turn that snob shop on the campus into a democracy, I’d not have lifted a finger for the benefit of Hamilton. As it turned out, Marvelous Manager’s way was his way. So I managed to please both,” she ended, her tone softening.

“Truly, Miss Susanna, that is the nicest compliment I ever had.” Marjorie showed such obvious delight at being ranked with the man she so reverenced that Miss Susanna’s own crinkly smile broke forth.

“Glad you liked it.” She continued to smile. Marjorie regarded her eccentric benefactor with utter devotion. Miss Susanna was flowering forth into graciousness as a peach tree breaks forth into rosy bloom in early spring. The others were watching the devoted pair and smiling their approval.

“You had better come to tea tomorrow afternoon, Robin and Marjorie,” Miss Hamilton now invited. “I’ll send for Peter Graham to come, too. Then you can talk matters over with him. There’ll be no papers to sign. Our word is as good as Peter’s and Peter’s is as good as ours. Don’t cry because you’re not invited to tea,” she humorously consoled the uninvited trio. “I’ll invite you to tea one of these fine days and leave out Page and Dean.”

“You wouldn’t be so mean,” protested Robin.

“Wait a while and see,” teased Leila, nodding with lifted brows at Page and Dean.

Having confessed her part and Jonas’ in starting the building of the dormitory ahead of time, Miss Susanna had a great deal more to say on the subject. When Jonas came to remove the tea things she sent him to the house for a bundle of plans and specifications. These she spread out on the rustic table and began an explanation of them to her young friends.

“There’ll be some water color drawings for you to see before long,” she made lively promise. “Peter will do them himself. He is very clever in that line.”

In spite of the fact that the supposedly crabbed mistress of Hamilton Arms mingled little with the business world she had a shrewd practical idea of values. She had listened carefully to her old friend, Peter Graham, when he had gone over the plans and specifications with her. Now she was ready to pass the information she had gained on to the five Travelers. So absorbed were they in listening as she unfolded the cherished enterprise to them they lost all idea of time. Jonas’ deep gentle announcement: “Dinner time, Miss Susanna,” reminded them that afternoon had slipped into evening.

It seemed to them that the end of a perfect day had indeed arrived when Miss Hamilton led the dinner procession of three couples into the tea room instead of the dining room. More, she explained that Jonas was proficient in Chinese cookery. Under his direction the cook would serve them with a real Chinese dinner.

It began with shark-fin soup and celery hearts, went triumphantly on through chicken mushroom chop suey, chow mein, rice, cooked as few other than the Chinese can cook rice, and costly Chinese tea. It ended with a very sweet dessert of preserved kumquats, crystalized ginger, almond cakes and barley candy. Jonas had spent the greater part of the day preparing the feast from recipes which he, Brooke Hamilton and the young Chinese lord, Prince Tuan Chi, had tried out with laughter and good cheer in the immense old-fashioned kitchen of the Arms.

After dinner Miss Susanna martialed the girls into the music room to sing for her. Robin was immediately besieged by all to sing.

“Oh, no,” she demurred. “I’ll play for all of us to sing.” She began to play softly a song they all knew. They could not resist the lilt of it so they sang in concert. Several others, equal favorites followed.

“I’ve struck,” Marjorie declared at the end of a fascinating waltz song from a recent musical success. “Not another note.”

“So have I.” There was an understanding glint in Leila’s eyes. She rolled them meaningly at Vera and Katherine, then toward Robin. Two more reinforced the strike. Robin gave in and soon her glorious high soprano was filling the room with melody. She sang several of Miss Hamilton’s favorite selections from grand opera. Then she balked, insisting that each of the others should contribute a solo.

Miss Susanna gave a sudden funny little cackle of laughter and agreed to do her part. The strikers could do no less. Each performer was to play her own accompaniment. “If you can’t play it, play at it,” stipulated Robin.

Leila came first with what she announced was an old Irish chant. The accompaniment had a great deal of heavy rumbling in the bass, the chant rose in a heart-rending wail which threatened with every succeeding note to burst bounds and become a wild howl. It was finally drowned in a gale of laughter as Jonas, not understanding the situation, suddenly appeared in the doorway, amazement written on his face.

Vera sang “Sweet and Low” so prettily she was encored and sang a baby song she had learned in the kindergarten. Her lisping baby accents set the party to laughing afresh. Katherine sang a charming little song she had learned in first year Greek. Marjorie sang “Won’t you walk a little faster?” from “Alice in Wonderland,” to a tune which her general had fitted to Carroll’s immortal words when she was a youngster. It so charmed her hearers that within twenty minutes they were caroling “Will you, won’t you?” in gleeful chorus.

Miss Susanna, however, contributed the star selection. She sat down before the piano with a good deal of chuckling, played a kind of rambling prelude and in a light, but tuneful voice proceeded to sing of the woes of one, Lord Lovell. According to the song, which was composed of many sing-sing verses, each ending with a ridiculous repetition of the last word of the last line, Lord Lovell was extremely unlucky in love. The longer she sang, the wilder grew the mirth of her audience. The final “spasm,” as Miss Susanna afterward named it, told of the untimely death of both Lord Lovell and his lady fair and of how they were buried in one grave with sweet briar bushes planted above them. According to the song:

It was after ten o’clock when the concert ended and half past ten before the Travelers had said good-night to the mistress of the Arms and were on the road to the campus. They had left Miss Hamilton, gay and smiling, immensely inspirited by their visit.

Vera had asked Leila to take the wheel going to the campus. “I want to be a lady instead of a chauffeur for a change,” she plaintively explained to Leila.

“It takes more than sitting on the back seat of the car resting your hands and face to be a lady, Midget,” was Leila’s discouraging response.

Marjorie had elected to ride beside Leila. The two girls were trying to remember the words and at least part of the tune of “Lord Lovell.” Robin had said that she thought she could arrange it as a funny quartette. Miss Susanna had offered to find the music to it in an old book of hers.

“Look out, Leila; here comes a car, and fast, too,” Marjorie warned in a low tone. They were at the narrowest part of the highway which lay between them and the campus.

Leila had already seen the approaching car and was keeping her own side of the pike strictly. Came a flare of white lights. Marjorie cast an alert but incurious glance at the other car. She drew a sudden audible breath and said softly, but sharply: “Leila, did you see who was in that car?” In the same instant the car to which she referred glided on into the darkness of the summer night. Quickly as it had passed their automobile Marjorie had had a full glimpse of the driver of the other car. A young woman had the wheel whose dark irregular features were only too familiar. For reasons best known to herself, Leslie Cairns had returned to Hamilton.