Leslie had posted herself behind the barrier of leafy green for the express purpose of watching the working out of a little plan of her own.
“To go, or not to go?—that is the question,”paraphrased Marjorie Dean glancing up from theopen letter in her hand. She fixed her eyes onJerry Macy, her room-mate as though trying to readwhat was in her chum’s mind.
Jerry aptly supplied.
“Fine, Jeremiah. I certainly would love toroost on the Deans’ family tree for four blesseddays.” Marjorie’s voice rang with wistfulness.4“I’ve tried to persuade myself into believing thatit won’t make much difference to the dormitorygirls if we decide we’d best go home for Thanksgiving.But I’m not sure.” Marjorie knittedtroubled brows. “This is the tenth,” she reflectedaloud. “Whether we go home, or whether we stayon the campus over Thanksgiving, we’ve enough todo beforehand to keep us hustling.” She sprang upfrom her chair as though animated anew by themere recollection of work yet to