Jewel Weed

"Haar's cards, Miss Quincy," she said, "Dar's twa ladies down staars."

She dropped the cards on the floor and disappeared. Lena, in great

curiosity, picked them up and read aloud: "'Mrs. Francis Lenox; Miss Elton.'"

"For the land's sake! Who air they?" asked her mother.

"Two of the biggest swells in town."

"Well, what on earth do they want here? We ain't very swell."

"Perhaps they want me to report some party or something," said Lena.

She was losing no time in giving her hair one or two becoming jerks and

going through a series of wriggles meant to impart grace and style to

her costume.

"Perhaps they want to give you a million dollars," said Mrs. Quincy

sarcastically.

Lena, with heart burning with mingled shame at her own shabby

surroundings, curiosity at their errand, and awe for the mighty names,

entered the little parlor which gave the impression of never having been

cleaned since it was born with its cheap worn plush furniture, its

crayon portraits and its two vases of gaudy blue and gold. She faced the

two ladies seated on the impossible chairs. Lena was almost as startling

an apparition in that room as was Ram Juna's rose in the dusty

phial--whether a miracle or a clever trick. She looked so untouched by

any vulgarity in her surroundings, so fresh and true, so instinct with

virgin dignity, that the eyes that met her own were filled with the

tribute of surprise; and she exulted in some hidden corner of her soul.

In the half-hour that they spent together she measured her new

acquaintances carefully.

"And these are women of the world!" she said to herself. "Why, they're

boobies. I could do them up any time."

For Lena did not know that women of this type are the most protected

creatures on the face of the earth. The knowledge of good is given

them, but not the knowledge of evil.

So she told them all about herself, which was what they seemed to want

to hear, and when they went away Madeline said: "I wonder if there are many such born to blush unseen. What an exquisite

little tragedy she is!"

And Mrs. Lenox answered: "U--u--m! Well, I've asked her, haven't I? I

think the microbe of Dick's impulsiveness must have got into me."

Lena stood back in the shadow of the room to watch her departing guests.

Then she ran up stairs with light steps, ruffling her plumes like a

cocky little lady-wren as she went back to the dreariness where Mrs.

Quincy sat rocking her inevitable creaking chair.

"Well!" asked her mother after a pause, a pause just long enough, the

daughter knew, to fill her with irritable curiosity.

"Well," Lena answered smartly, "and what do you think? They came to

call, if you please, because Mr. Percival asked them to; and they were

sweet as honey. And Mrs. Lenox asked me to spend a whole week at her

country place."