My heart warmed at the memory of Olivia. Verily
the chaplain was right-she was many girls in one!
Stoddard dropped a lump of sugar into his coffee.
"Miss Devereux begged hard for her, but Sister Theresa
couldn't afford to keep her. Her influence on the
other girls was bad."
"That's to Miss Devereux's credit," I replied. "You
needn't wait, Bates."
"Olivia was too popular. All the other girls indulged
her. And I'll concede that she's pretty. That gipsy
face of hers bodes ill to the hearts of men-if she ever
grows up."
"I shouldn't exactly call it a gipsy face; and how
much more should you expect her to grow? At twenty
a woman's grown, isn't she?"
He looked at me quizzically.
"Fifteen, you mean! Olivia Armstrong-that little
witch-the kid that has kept the school in turmoil all
the fall?"
There was decided emphasis in his interrogations.
"I'm glad your glasses are full, or I should say-"
There was, I think, a little heat for a moment on both
sides.
"The wires are evidently crossed somewhere," he said
calmly. "My Olivia Armstrong is a droll child from
Cincinnati, whose escapades caused her to be sent home
for discipline to-day. She's a little mite who just about
comes to the lapel of your coat, her eyes are as black
as midnight-"
"Then she didn't talk to Pickering and his friends
at the station this morning-the prettiest girl in the
world-gray hat, gray coat, blue eyes? You can have
your Olivia; but who, will you tell me, is mine?"
I pounded with my clenched hand on the table until
the candles rattled and sputtered.
Stoddard stared at me for a moment as though he
thought I had lost my wits. Then he lay back in his
chair and roared. I rose, bending across the table toward
him in my eagerness. A suspicion had leaped into
my mind, and my heart was pounding as it roused a
thousand questions.
"The blue-eyed young woman in gray? Bless your
heart, man, Olivia is a child; I talked to her myself on
the platform. You were talking to Miss Devereux.
She isn't Olivia, she's Marian!"
"Then, who is Marian Devereux-where does she
live-what is she doing here-?"
"Well," he laughed, "to answer your questions in order,
she's a young woman; her home is New York;
she has no near kinfolk except Sister Theresa, so she
spends some of her time here."
"Teaches-music-"
"Not that I ever heard of! She does a lot of things
well,-takes cups in golf tournaments and is the nimblest
hand at tennis you ever saw. Also, she's a fine
musician and plays the organ tremendously."
"Well, she told me she was Olivia!" I said.
"I should think she would, when you refused to meet
her; when you had ignored her and Sister Theresa,-
both of them among your grandfather's best friends,
and your nearest neighbors here!"