"It sounds as though it might be more of a pleasure than a painful
duty."
"So it would. You'd take to her, I know," the young man went on eagerly.
Mrs. Lenox watched him in somewhat irritated amusement. "She hasn't
your brains, of course, Madeline, but she has such charm, such
simplicity and freshness, that you can't help liking her. And she grubs
away at perfectly uncongenial work, and lives with this fusty old mother
in a fusty little lodging-house. It makes me sick to think of such daily
crucifixion. I've no business to say it, I know; but when you spoke
about a week at the lake, I couldn't help thinking what such a thing
would mean to her. She'd think herself in Paradise."
"I suppose, Dick, that this is your adroit and tactful way of suggesting
that I should ask her," Mrs. Lenox said, laughing.
And Madeline, who, if Dick had proposed that Mrs. Lenox should turn her
very charming summer home into an orphan asylum, would have considered
that the proposition, as coming from him, was entitled to consideration,
put in: "I think it would be a lovely thing to do, Vera."
"And we should probably let ourselves in for a frightful bore."
"And you might entertain an angel unawares," said Dick.
Mrs. Lenox knit her brows and meditated. She didn't quite like Dick's
championship of this unknown girl, nor did she trust to his judgment;
but, like a wise woman, she wanted to know what was the thing that had
attracted him, and was big enough in heart to be willing to do a good
turn wherever she could.
"This is the oracle of the Pythia," she said at last. "We will not
commit ourselves to anything at the behest of Richard Percival. On my
way to the station, now, in fact, Madeline and I will go to see this
rose among cabbages. We will introduce ourselves as your friends, Dick.
If we think you are a mere deluded male thing, there the matter ends. If
we, too, are carried away by enthusiasm, we will invite her on the spur
of the moment, and Mr. Lenox, who, like most married men, is a
connoisseur in pretty girls, can talk to her. Will this suit you, Dick?"
"Excellently," said Dick, "I know the result."
"Then you'll come next Saturday? Madeline is coming day after to-morrow
and I'll write to Mr. Norris. Heaven send these days of sun continue.
Now if we are to pay this call, and I am to catch my train, we must be
off."
Miss Quincy, having quarreled with her mother over her extravagance in
buying a feather boa with the proceeds of her last small check, was
seated by the window, industriously concocting a new hat. The Swedish
"girl", whose unfortunate fate it was to minister to the wants of Mrs.
Olberg's lodgers, gave a kind of defiant pound on the door, opened it
and thrust in a disheveled blond head, followed by a hand puckered from
the dish-water.