by Anne Warner
CHAPTER SEVEN - DEVELOPMENTS
It was during that drive the next morning that Jack buoyed up by memoriesof Saturday and hopes of coming Saturdays, poured out the history of hislife at Mrs. Rosscott's knees. He told her the whole story of Aunt Mary,and _his_ side of the cat, the cabman, and Kalamazoo. It interested her,for she had arrived too recently to have had the full details in thenewspapers beforehand, but when he spoke of Aunt Mary's last letter shegrew large-eyed and shook her head gravely.
"You will have to be very good now," she said seriously.
"Why?" he asked. "Just to keep from being disinherited? That wouldn't beso awful."
"Wouldn't it be awful to you?" she asked, turning her bright eyes uponhim. "What could be worse?"
"Things," he said very vaguely.
Then she touched up the cob a little; and, after a minute or two, as shesaid nothing, he continued:
"I almost fancy quitting college and going to work. I was thinking aboutit last night."
She touched up the cob a little more, and remained silent.
Finally he said:
"What would you think of my doing that?"
"I don't know," she said slowly. "You see, I'm a great philosopher. Inever fret or worry, because I regard it as useless; similarly, I neverrebel at the way fate shapes my life--I regard that as something pasthelping. I believe in predestination; do you?"
She turned and looked at him so seriously--so unlike her _riante_ self--thathe felt startled, and did not know what to say for a minute.
Then:
"I don't know," he said slowly; "I don't know that I dare to. It ratherstartles me to think that maybe all of our future is laid out now."
"It doesn't startle me," she said. "It seems to me the natural plan of theuniverse. I believe that everything that crosses our path--down to thetiniest gnat--comes there in the fulfillment of a purpose."
"I'm sure that all the mosquitoes that ever crossed my path came there inthe fulfillment of a purpose," Jack interrupted. "I never doubted _that_."
She smiled a little.
"It's the same with people," she went on.
[Illustration 2]
"Do not let us play any longer,' she said. 'Let us be in earnest.'"
"Only less painful," he interrupted again.
"Sometimes not," she said, with a look that silenced him. "Sometimes muchmore so--my Cousin Maude, for example."
"Hip, hip, hurrah for the mosquito!" he murmured. They laughed softlytogether. Then she grew earnest, and looked so grave that he becameserious too.
"There is always a purpose," she said, with a touch of some feeling whichhe had never guessed at. "If you and I have met, it is because we are tohave some influence over one another. I can't just see how; I can't formany idea--"
"I can," he said eagerly.
She looked up so suddenly and steadily that he was silent.
"Do not let us play any longer," she said. "Let us be in earnest."
"But I am in earnest," he asseverated.
"You don't know what I mean," she went on very gently. "You're in college.Let's fight it out on those lines if it takes all summer."
He looked up into her face and loved her better than ever for the frankkindliness that shone in her eyes.
"All right, if you say so," he vowed.
"I do say so," she said. "I like to see men stick it through in college ifthey begin. I like to see people finish up every one of life's jobs thatthey set out on."
"But I'm coming to see you in town, you know," he went on with greatapparent irrelevance.
She laughed merrily.
"Yes, surely. You must promise me that.--No," she stopped and lookedthoughtful, "I'll tell you what I want you to promise me. Promise me thatyou'll come once a week or else write me why you can't come. Will you?"
"You can't suppose that you'll ever see my handwriting under suchcircumstances--can you?" Jack asked.
She laughed again.
"Is it a promise?"
"Yes, it's a promise."
Oh, joy unmeasured in the time of spring! No other February like that hadever been for them--nor ever would be. The drive came to an end, the daycame to an end, but the good-nights, which were good-bys, too, were not sofraught with hopelessness as he had dreaded, for the promise asked andgiven paved a broad road illuminated by the most hopeful kind of stars,--abroad road leading straight from college to town,--and his fancy showed hima figure treading it often. A figure that was his own.