cept for Dr. Randolph,
who is going with us, but we have some pleasant young people in the
neighborhood, and there is generally a good deal going on at Christmas.
I think you would have a pleasant time."

"It would be the next best thing to going home," declared Marjorie,
"but, oh, dear Mrs. Randolph, are you sure you really want me?"

"Quite sure," said Mrs. Randolph, kissing her. "It will make us all
very happy to have our nice little friend with us."

"If only Aunt Julia will let me go," said Marjorie, with a vivid
recollection of her aunt's rebuke on the evening after the football
game.

But, contrary to Marjorie's expectations, Mrs. Carleton made no
objection to the plan, beyond hoping that the Randolphs would not find
her niece too much care. Neither did Elsie make any of the unpleasant
remarks her cousin expected. Since the first meeting of the Poetry Club,
Beverly and she had not had much to say to each other. Beverly was
always polite, but Elsie could never feel quite comfortable in his
society, and the knowledge that he was not to share in any of the
holiday gayeties was something of a relief. She and Marjorie were
apparently very good friends, but there was a look in Marjorie's eyes
sometimes when they rested on her cousin, which Elsie did not like. So
when Mrs. Carleton consulted her daughter on the subject of Marjorie's
going to Virginia with the Randolph's, Elsie said good-naturedly:

"Oh, let her go, Mamma; she'll have a much better time than she would
here. It would be such a bother to have to take her everywhere, and see
she had partners at the dances, and all that. Papa would be sure to ask
questions and make a fuss if she didn't have a good time."

So the invitation was accepted, and Marjorie wrote a long, joyful letter
to her mother, and went to bed that night, feeling happier than she had
done since coming to New York.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE SUNNY SOUTH

"IT'S the most beautiful place I've ever even imagined!" Marjorie spoke
with conviction, and drew in a long, deep breath of the fresh morning
air.

She and Beverly were standing on the wide veranda at Randolph Place
gazing off over the wide landscape, of low Virginia hills, with the wide
river less than half a mile away. It was a glorious morning, and the
peace and quiet seemed indescribably delightful after the noisy, stuffy
night on the train. Beverly was very proud of his Southern home, but boy
like, he tried not to show it.