The bonds of relationship had always been somewhat intangible to him, since he had grown up. He had laid out his own career himself, and had carried every ambition to completion and reality. The last twenty years had been years of fruition, of honors freely given, years of fulfillment.

He had not been, like Judge Ellis, intolerant of other men's failures; he had simply ignored them, never feeling any responsibility towards the weaker ones who fell in the race. In his way, he prided himself upon a gentle, aloof philosophy of life which left him the boundaries of the old study as a horizon of happiness.

Probably not until that moment had he realized the gradual revolutionary process Kit had been putting him through ever since her arrival. She had trained him into having an interest in other people and things, until now it was impossible for him not to see the picture of Greenacres as she did.

"How did you find out about this, my dear?" he asked.

"Well," Kit replied, honestly, "partly from Billie and partly from this letter from Cousin Roxy. You know Cousin Roxy, don't you, Uncle Ca.s.sius?"

The Dean's eyes twinkled reminiscently as he took the letter.

"Oh, yes, I remember Roxana well. She used to bully me outrageously." He opened the letter and started to read slowly, just as Kit suddenly remembered Cousin Roxy's remarks on Ca.s.sius Cato Peabody. But there was no turning back now. Straight through to the end he read, and several deep chuckles broke the silence, real chuckles of delight, such as Kit had never heard from the Dean. When he had finished, he handed it back to her.

"Perfectly true, my dear," he said. "I can quite see why you feel that you are needed. You had better take your midwinter examinations, and prepare to return home about Christmas. In all likelihood your Aunt Daphne and I will accompany you."

CHAPTER XXI

THE CIRCLE OF RA

The next thing was to break the news gently and convincingly to the family. Kit figured it out from all sides, and finally decided to walk right up to the horns of the dilemma in a fearless attack. Writing back a long, chatty letter to the Mother Bird, she simply tacked on the postscript:

"Don't be at all surprised to see me arrive with the other Christmas packages, and have a fire laid in the guest room."

At first she had thought only the Dean would accompany her, but when Miss Daphne heard of the plan, she declared she would not be left out of it.

"Why, brother, I haven't seen any of the folks down east in years and years, and it would hearten me up wonderfully to visit them. I think I'd like to be with Roxy as much as possible, because we were girl friends together."

Whether it was the prospect of going home or the longing to leave a good record behind her, no one could say, not even Kit herself, but she took her midwinter examinations with full speed up and colors flying, as Billie would say.

The girls took her coming departure with many objections, but they proceeded to give her various send-offs. Charity and Anne decided on a formal tea, up in the former's room, but the solemnity of the occasion was banished when Peggy rose to read some farewell poesy, concocted by herself and the "Jinx."

"She hoped to be the hope of Hope Alas, how soon she flew, To bleak New England's rock-ribbed hills, Ere she her Virgil knew."

"And we her comrades tried and true, No laurel crowns may weave.

The magic circle broken is, For Kathleen fair we grieve."

After which, Amy led a procession of solemn-visaged, sombre-clad academic maidens, who approached the divan where Kit sat, and each presented her with some sage advice, in couplets. Amy explained later that she got the idea from Sargent's "Gifts of the Hours."

"Although, if it had been summer time, we would have tried to make it more like Tennyson's 'Princess,' but I think this carries the idea all right.

Norma wrote the couplets, and they almost have a prophetic note. Don't you think so, Kit?"

Kit agreed that they did, and long afterwards, up in the old cupola council room, she read them aloud to Helen and some of the Gilead girls.

One in particular rather hit her fancy, because Kit hated early rising.

"Rise, sweet maid, when the c.o.c.k is crowing, If Fortune's bugles you'd be blowing."

The Sat.u.r.day before they left was Kit's day for entertaining. Miss Daphne took the keenest delight in making it a success. There was a luncheon at one, followed by a whole afternoon of entertaining. Even the Dean emerged from his sanctum to mingle a little, and the "Jinx" declared she had never seen him so human before. He brought out the royal statuette of Annui and even the sacred memorial urn to show the girls. As Miss Daphne said afterwards, this showed what a friendly, benign mood he was in.

Kit was standing on the outskirts of the group around the old grand piano, where he had placed both antiques, when she suddenly saw, through the long French windows, Marcelle Beaubien coming up the drive. The Dean was deep in a happy, explanatory speech and she slipped away unnoticed by the rest.

"It was awfully nice of you to come, Marcelle," she exclaimed. "I've been watching for you ever since lunch. Why didn't you come earlier?"

"But I am early," smiled Marcelle. "It is only about three o'clock.

Generally, I have to stay in all day Sat.u.r.day, and give the boys a chance to go out. Will you write to me when you are away?"

"I'd love to. You know it's a queer thing, Marcelle, but really and truly, out of all the girls I have met here I feel better acquainted with you than with any of them."

Kit said this rather slowly, as if it were a sort of self-revelation which she had just discovered that minute. And yet it was true. She had enjoyed the cla.s.s friendships at Hope immensely, but Marcelle had seemed to stand out from the rest of the girls as such a distinctly interesting personality. In a way, she was like Billie, because she loved nature and all the romance of adventure. There was in her nature the mingling of the three races, the French, the Indian, and the Scotch, and besides, Kit felt personally responsible for her success up at Hope. The girls had played absolutely fair and square, once they had decided to bury the hatchet, and given the chance, Marcelle herself had justified the opening of doors to her. As Amy said:

"It doth not behoove us to say a blessed word against Marcelle when she is racing ahead in all our cla.s.ses, and plucking honors right and left."

Marcelle smiled at Kit's remark.

"I have heard my grandmother say that in her girlhood her people of the northern forests pledged their friendships by saying, 'While the gra.s.s grows and the waters run, so long shall we be friends.'" She turned and smiled at Kit her grave-eyed slow smile. "I will say that to you now, before you go."

Kit laid one arm around her shoulders.

"Me too," she answered, heartily. "Sounds like the blood brother vow they used to take."

They went up the steps together and into the long double parlors. The girls were singing at the piano while Amy played one cla.s.s song after another, and the Dean hung broodingly over the urn. Kit thought she had never seen the house so full of life and happiness, and the look on Miss Daphne's face was one of positive radiance.

"You know," she said, confidentially to Kit, in a low voice, "after we return from the east, I have undertaken something that I know will do me good and the Dean, too. I've just been appointed head of the Junior Red Cross in Delphi, and the girls will meet here every Sat.u.r.day. We shall miss you, Kit, but if it gives you any pleasure, my dear, to know it, I want to tell you it was your coming which opened my eyes to the folly of sitting with empty hands while there was work to be done. I don't think I can ever belong to what the Dean calls 'the rocking-chair squad' again, without a guilty conscience."

Kit hugged her fervently.

"Oh, but you're a dear, Aunt Daphne, to say such things. I only wish I could stay right here and be in two places at once. I'll tell you what I've learned here, organization." Kit said this very firmly and earnestly.

"Back home they always said that I knew just what I wanted to do, but I didn't know how to do it. Well, I know what I want to do now. I want to go back home and organize."

Miss Daphne laughed and shook her head.

"Oh, Kit, child, do go easy," she said. "Organize yourself all you like, but be terribly careful how you start organizing other people's lives."

The girls had to leave early, as the Shakespearian entertainment was to happen that night up at a.s.sembly Hall.

"Your very last chance to mingle, Kit," Norma called, as they all trooped out of the lower hall. "Don't lose your presence of mind to-night, when you find yourself in doublet and hose."

Kit stood on the veranda steps waving to them until they turned the corner of Maple Avenue.

"Oh, dear," she sighed, "I do wish that friendships lasted longer. I mean, I wish I could have all my friends here down in Gilead. You see, there us girls are all so scattered around on adjacent hilltops that it's hard to get together regularly. We've only got our hiking club. I think when I go back I'm going to start some more."

"The Dean wanted to have a little talk with you before dinner, dear. I think you'd better go in now, because we want to reach the Hall in good time for you to dress, and I'm going to have an early dinner. Don't talk too long. You know how he is when he gets absorbed in anything."

Kit promised and joined the Dean. He had carried back the statue of Annui and stood before it regarding it with perplexity. Kit slipped her arm through his. It seemed as though there had sprung up a new comradeship and understanding between them since their last talk.

"Won't he tell you his secrets, Uncle Ca.s.sius?" she asked. "He has such an aggravating smile, just as if he were amused at baffling you."