"Everybody," Martha King said scornfully; "even Samuel Wright. He told
his wife that he wouldn't have any nonsense about Sam, and she'd got
to go. I think it's positively cruel; because of course everybody
knows that the boy was in love with this housekeeper that doesn't know
how to make soap!" Martha shook her bowl sharply, and the toppling
green pyramid crumbled. Dr. Lavendar looked at her over his
spectacles; instantly her face reddened, and she tossed her head. "Of
course, you understand that I haven't the slightest personal feeling
about it. That's one thing about me, Dr. Lavendar, I may not be
perfect, but nobody despises anything like--that, more than I do. I
merely regret William's judgment."
"Regret William's judgment! Why, think of the judgment he displayed in
choosing a wife," said Dr. Lavendar. But when he climbed into his old
buggy he had the grace to be ashamed of himself; he admitted as much
to Danny. "For she's a sensible woman, Daniel, and, at bottom, kind."
Danny yawned, and Dr. Lavendar added, "Poor Willy!"
Mrs. Richie's first hint of Dr. King's proposed festivity came a week
later from David, who happened to be at home to dinner, and who saw
fit to mention that Lydia Wright wasn't to be allowed to come up with
her father and mother.
"Come up where?" Mrs. Richie said, idly. She was leaning forward, her
elbows on the table, watching the child eat. When he said, "To your
party to-night," she sat up in astonished dismay.
"My what? David! Tell me--exactly. Who is coming? Oh, dear!"
she ended, tears of distress standing in her eyes.
David continued to eat his rice pudding. "Can I sit up till nine?"
Mrs. Richie pushed her chair back from the table, and caught her lower
lip between her teeth. What should she do? But even as she asked
herself the question, Dr. King stood, smiling, in the French window
that opened on to the lawn.
"May I come in?" he said.
The fact was, a misgiving had risen in William's mind; perhaps a
complete surprise would not be pleasant. Perhaps she would rather have
an idea of what was going to happen. Perhaps she might want to dress
up, or something. And so he dropped in to give a hint: "Half a dozen
of us are coming in tonight to say how-do-you-do," he confessed,
("Whew! she doesn't need to dress up," he commented inwardly.) The red
rose in her hair and her white cross-barred muslin with elbow sleeves
seemed very elegant to William. He was so lost in admiration of her
toilet, that her start of angry astonishment escaped him.