"But could I get ready to go so soon?" said the girl, a shade of trouble
coming into her eyes. "I must go back and pack up my things, you know,
and clean the room."
Courtland and the nurse exchanged meaningful glances.
"Now look here!" began Courtland, with his engaging smile. "Why couldn't
the nurse and I do all that's necessary? How about to-morrow afternoon?
Could you get off awhile, Miss Wright? I don't have any basket-ball
practice till Tuesday, and I could get off right after dinner. Miss
Brentwood, you could tell the nurse just what you want done with your
things, and I'll warrant she and I have sense enough to pack up one
little room."
After some persuasion Bonnie half consented, and then they attended to
the telegram.
Your wonderful invitation accepted with deep gratitude. Will
start as soon as able. Probably Wednesday night. Will write.
ROSE BONNER BRENTWOOD.
was what they finally evolved. Bonnie had been divided between a desire
to save words and a longing to show her appreciation of the kindness.
But the strangest thing of all was that, in his eagerness, the paper
Courtland fumbled out from his pocket to write it upon was Gila Dare's
unopened letter, reeking with violets. He frowned as he realized it, and
stuffed it back in his pocket again.
Courtland enjoyed sending that telegram. He enjoyed it so much that he
sent another along with it on his own account, which read:
Three cheers for the best mother in the United States! She's
coming and you ought to see her eyes shine!
It was on the way back to the university that he happened to remember
Gila's letter.
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