HEADED FOR GILEAD

It was very hard for Kit to keep her mind on Orlando that evening, between the excitement of the coming trip and the revelation of the urn.  But after it was over the girls clustered around her for one last send-off, and she realized then how closely the ties of friendship had been cemented in her few months at Hope.

She looked around at them with eyes filled with tears, and Kit was not at all of the crying type, but it seemed as if each girl of her own special crowd had filled a particular niche in her life for the time being.  There was Charity, with her eye-glasses, and placid face, upturned smiling lips and quizzical eyes.  How often she had taken the edge off Kit’s rancor and indignation with just a few timely, humorous words.  Amy, Norma, Peggy, and High Jinks had been the starters in all kinds of fun and recreation, while Anne had seemed to come the nearest to her of them all in actual comradeship.  Then last of all, Marcelle.  It was she who clasped Kit’s hand, as she repeated in her low voice: 

“While the grass grows and the waters run, so long shall we be friends.”

“For pity’s sakes, girls,” exclaimed Miss Daphne, “don’t act as if you were never going to see her again.  I shall see that she comes back in vacation next year, because the Dean and I couldn’t possibly do without her, now.”

Just before it was time to leave for the train Monday morning, Rex and Anne brought over their farewell gift.

“It’s supposed to be like a steamer basket,” Anne said, “only this is a train basket.  We figured on your being on the train for at least two days, if you do happen to stop over in Washington.”

Kit did not open it until they boarded the limited in Chicago and were well on their way, speeding eastward.  There was no sign of snow as yet, but the land seemed to lie locked in a frosty grip of barrenness.  The Dean seemed to smile perpetually now.  He occupied the lower part of the section across the aisle, and Kit loved to watch him as he sat by the window, his little black skullcap making him look like a portrait of an old-time French savant.  Every now and then he would glance up and meet her eyes with a little smile of mutual understanding.  It was as if they, too, were united in a close bond of sympathy, ever since they had solved the mystery of Amenotaph and Ra’s circle.

When lunch time drew near Kit opened the train basket.  There were fruit and home-made preserves, little tempting jars of sweet pickles and stuffed olives, home-made fruit cake and jars of club cheese with thin wafers that just matched them.  The girls at Hope had sent down five pounds of fudge as a parting gift to be included in the basket, but best of all, Kit thought, was a young wild turkey, roasted to perfection, and stuffed with chestnuts.

“Isn’t this just like Anne!” Kit exclaimed, exultantly.  “She knows how I love to nibble on good things to eat.  Now we won’t have to go into the dining-car for lunch, and it will seem like a regular picnic having it here.”