“Beg your pardon, and double beg it.” Hal allowed a teasing note to creep into the answer. Already he was feeling less dejected. He had been half afraid that Marjorie might refuse to go for a last ride in the Oriole.
The swift unbidden reflection that Marjorie might not be quite so indifferent to him as he had thought brought a sudden flush to his cheeks and an odd new sense of hope to his sore heart. She could hardly have failed to understand the import of what he had begun to tell her on the way to the boat. Yet she had not refused to go for a ride with him on the morrow. She must surely have guessed the hidden reason for his invitation to her.
“Say, what time, Marjorie,” Hal again urged. “All afternoon would suit me best,” he added boldly.
“You can’t have all afternoon.” Marjorie lightly objected. “I’ll have to hurry like mad in order to squeeze the ride into tomorrow’s program. I’ll be ready to go as soon as luncheon’s over. I must be back at my packing by not a minute later than three o’clock. You and Jerry had better come to our table for luncheon. Is Jerry going with us?” Marjorie made a last attempt to ward off what appeared to be inevitable.
“No, she isn’t. I haven’t asked her,” was the pointed reply. “Thank you, but I won’t be at the hotel until I come up for you. I’m going to Carver’s Island early in the morning to see a crowd of fellows I know who have a bungalow there. You usually have luncheon at one, don’t you? I’ll meet you in the Dresden lounge at half past one. Then we won’t lose any of your precious time,” Hal concluded almost grimly.
“All right,” Marjorie assented. She was glad Hal had used a mildly peremptory tone. She had always admired his courteous, but positive, manner of settling a matter.
“Why in such a hurry?” Laurie questioned indolently as he and Constance now mounted the steps. “You two walked ahead of us as though you were on a training hike. Is that the way to appreciate a heavenly night like this?”
“It is when it’s after ten o’clock and one has to be up and doing by seven tomorrow morning,” flung back Marjorie. “You forget, Mr. Laurie Armitage, that I’m going away, day after tomorrow.” She emphasized each word with a vigorous bob of the head.
“No; none of us have forgotten that, Marjorie,” Laurie bent a sudden warm friendly smile on her.
“We’re going to miss you dreadfully, Lieutenant.” Constance put an arm around Marjorie. The two stood and swayed back and forth schoolgirl fashion.
“Not half so much as I shall,” Hal voiced frank regret. “Marjorie is a real pal. I’m going to miss her at every turn and corner. I’m going to annex myself to the Armitage family and become a pest after Marjorie goes.”
“Go as far as you like, old man,” Laurie invited. “Connie and I will do our best to amuse and cherish you.”
“Cherish! Ah-h-h!” gurgled Danny who had just come up with Jerry. “Such a sweet word! Did anybody ever hear Jurry-miar say it to me?” He rolled his eyes and clasped his hands. “Silence? What? Don’t all speak at once. No? I thought not.”
“No one ever will hear me say it to you,” Jerry told him in a tired tone.
“How ought I to receive such a remark?” Danny eyed her dubiously. “Answer me, Jurry-miar.” He leaned far forward and stared fixedly at Jerry.
Her stolid expression deserted her. She had to laugh at the ludicrous set of Danny’s freckled features. “Oh, never mind,” she conceded. “Let’s be amiable to each other for ten minutes. I’ll hold the stop watch.”
“U-h-h-h!” Danny simulated collapse. “This is so unexpected. Hurry up, gang. Let’s go to the palm grotto for ices. If we hustle, Jur – I mean, Geraldine and I can sit at the same table without snapping at each other. Come, boys,” he beckoned grandly to Hal and Laurie. “Gentlemen will be treated to ices as well as ladies. Think of that!” He smirked patronizingly at the two young men.
“I oughtn’t linger longer,” gaily demurred Marjorie. “Truly, Danny, I – ”
She went to the palm grotto, however, marched there between Hal and Danny. During the enjoyable half hour the young people spent over the ices Hal was his usual jolly, light-hearted self. Marjorie welcomed the change in him from sombre seriousness to his old care-free manner. When she left him with a friendly good night at the door of the Dean’s apartment she could have almost believed him to be the Hal of her high school days, had not the memory of his earnest words flashed across her brain. She could still hear him saying: “I’ve wished always that it would be so with you and me,” in the eager, impassioned fashion which awoke no responsive echo in her heart.
She stepped into the living room her usually bright face so pre-occupied that it at once caught Mrs. Dean’s attention as she smilingly glanced up from the magazine she held.
“I won’t qualify for the early bird class in the morning, I’m afraid,” Marjorie said with the merest suspicion of a smile. “Never mind; I’m going to get up early even if I do lose some sleep.”
“Was that what made you look so sober as you came in, Lieutenant?” Mrs. Dean asked, amused surprise in the question.
“Did I look very sober?” Marjorie quickly countered.
“Very,” emphasized her mother.
“Well,” Marjorie paused, “I felt sober. Where’s General, Captain?” She glanced questioningly toward the next room.
“He and Mr. Macy motored down to Logan Beach this evening to see a game of chess between two expert players, both friends of Mr. Macy’s. He’ll hardly be home before midnight.” Mrs. Dean continued affectionately to watch Marjorie.
“Oh-h-h.” Marjorie dropped down on a low chair. For a moment she sat plaiting little folds in the soft white evening scarf, now fallen into careless disarrangement across one shoulder. “Oh,” she said again. “Er-oh, dear! I’ve something to report, Captain. I wish I hadn’t. I couldn’t report it to General as I can to you. It’s about Hal. He’s going to ask me to marry him. I wish he wouldn’t.”
The vehemence with which Marjorie voiced the disquieting report brought a shadowy flash of concern to her mother’s face. It faded instantly into a distinctly humorous expression.
“How do you know Hal is going to ask you to marry him?” she quizzed, her eyes twinkling. “You’ve heard the old sad tale of Miss Betty Baxter who refused Captain Jones before he axed her.”
“Oh-h, Captain!” Marjorie made a laughing open-armed rush at her mother. “Stop making fun of me. My case isn’t a bit like silly Miss Betty Baxter’s. What an idiotic person she must have been! You see, dearest,” she slid an arm about her mother’s neck. “Why – Hal – ” Her color mounted to her white forehead – “began to ask me down on the beach tonight. Then Danny and Jerry came up to us. They didn’t know what he was saying to me, of course. He surprised me, too.”
Hesitatingly, Marjorie went on to tell her captain of her talk with Hal on the beach which had led up to his impulsive declaration of love. It was not easy to repeat, even to her mother. She had taken a stand behind her mother’s low-backed chair, arms dropped forward. One hand patted a light tattoo on her mother’s shoulder as she talked. Presently her voice trailed off into silence. Her head went down against her mother’s neck.
“Bring over the low stool, Lieutenant,” Mrs. Dean ordered in her briskest “army” tone.
“Yes, Captain.” Quick as a flash Marjorie’s arms dropped from her captain’s shoulders. She left a light kiss on her mother’s soft brown hair, then marched across the room for the stool. She set it down at her captain’s feet, saluted and stood at rigid attention.
“Break ranks. Discipline seems to be still alive in the army,” Mrs. Dean observed with a smile.
“It is.” Marjorie settled herself on the cushioned stool and leaned her elbows on her mother’s knees.