“I suppose that is why she acts as though she hated young people,” offered Mary. “We probably remind her of her cheated youth.”
“She should have been particular enough to let that stupid ensign know that she was she,” criticized practical Jerry. “I’m glad I haven’t a sister. There’s no danger of any future aspirant for my hand and heart getting me mixed with Hal.”
The sentimental shadow cast upon the group by Irma’s romantic tale disappeared in a gale of laughter.
“Honestly, Jerry Macy, you haven’t the least idea of romance,” giggled Susan. “Here Irma tells us a real love story and you spoil it all about a minute afterward.”
“Can’t help it,” asserted Jerry stoutly. “I have to say what I think.”
“Oh, here come Captain and Charlie,” cried Marjorie, sighting a gracious figure in white descending the steps with Charlie in tow. “That means dinner is about to be served, children. Our farewell feast to Lieutenant Mary Raymond.”
A chorus of ohs and ahs ascended as the guests filed into a dining room, the decoration of which spelled Patriotism in large capitals. In honor of the pretty soldier play to which she and Mary had so long clung, Marjorie had decreed that the dinner should be a patriotic affair so far as decorations went. The walls of the large, attractive room were plentifully festooned with red, white and blue bunting. Flags were in evidence everywhere. From the center of the large oak table a large doll dressed as Uncle Sam held gallantly aloft the tri-colored ribbons that extended to each place. On one side of him stood a smaller doll dressed in the khaki uniform of the United States soldier. On the other, a valiant Jackie stood guard. At each cover was a small soldier doll and the place cards were tiny, folded, silk flags, each guest’s name written in one of the stripes of white uppermost.
Mary occupied the seat of honor at the head of the table, with Marjorie at her right and Constance at her left. But at the departing Lieutenant’s place rose an amazing pile of tissue-paper wrapped, beribboned bundles that smacked of Christmas.
“Company, attention,” called Mrs. Dean from the foot of the table, the instant the party had seated themselves. “Lieutenant Raymond, you are ordered to inspect your wealth before mess.”