I
THE dismay of the young Brownleys was as great as that of Freda. But their indomitable mothers won.
“But, mother,” cried Allison Brownley, “you don’t mean you’d ask that—that little Swede girl here to the house? For a month? Why, I should think you’d see how impossible that is. We can’t treat her as a servant, can we?”
“No,” said Mrs. Brownley, “you can’t—not at all. She’s a very clever girl—Normal School graduate.”
Allison sank on a divan, her short skirts shorter than ever in her abandonment, her face a picture of horrified dismay.
“Normal School—you know what they are! Pimples and plaid skirts two inches from the ground,—China silk white waists. Oh, mother dear, it’s very sweet of you to think of her, but it couldn’t be done. What would we do with her? Why, the days are just full! All kinds of things planned now that Easter’s over. We couldn’t take her about, and we couldn’t leave her at home. The Brownley girls and their little Swede friend! Mother, I do think you ought to keep politics out of the home.”
Barbara joined in now. That was always her policy. To let Allie state the case and get excited over it and then to go after her mother reasonably if her mother didn’t give in. She was a more languorous type than Allie. “Bed-room eyes” one of the boys had said, at the height of his puppy wit.
“If you had to ask them, mother, Lent would have been the time. It just can’t be managed now. As a matter of fact I’ve practically asked Delia Underwood to spend three weeks here.” That was a lie and she knew her mother would know it, but it gave her mother a graceful way out of the difficulty.
But unfortunately Mrs. Brownley did not seem to be looking for loop-holes. She sat serenely at her desk, her eye-glasses poised upon the bills she was auditing.
“I think you will like Miss Thorstad,” she answered, ignoring all the protests. “You see it’s really quite important for me to have her here. The mother is a very clever little woman and with a possible political future. Miss Duffield thinks very highly of her. While we are doing this active campaign work she will be invaluable here in the city. She’s a good organizer—and she’s a plain woman. She can handle plain women, Miss Duffield insists, better than we can. I wish you girls would understand that there is a great deal involved in this campaign. If we stand well out here it will be important for the district—in Washington.”
“Yes, mother—but why the daughter?”
“For the simple reason that Mrs. Thorstad said she didn’t like to leave her at home alone. It put me in the position of having to ask her. She is, as I remember, a pretty well-appearing girl. Mrs. Flandon, whom you admire so much, Allie, was immensely taken with her. At any rate, they have been asked, they will accept and they arrive next week.”
Allie looked dark.
“Well, mother,” she said, with a fair imitation of her mother’s tone, “if you expect me to give up everything for the sake of this little Swede, you’re mistaken. The men will just howl when they see her.”
“Cheer up, Allie,” said Barbara, “they may fall in love with her. Brunhilde, you know—and all of that. I think it’s a shame, mother.”
The girls looked at each other. They weren’t ordinarily allies, but this mess was one they both would have to worry over. Their mother rose.
“Of course, girls,” she said, “it is an inconvenience. But it’s a good thing to do. It means more than you may guess. Be nice to Miss Thorstad and you’ll not be sorry. It might mean that platinum bracelet for you, Barbara, and for Allie—”
“Mother,” exclaimed Allie, “if I’m an angel to your little Swede would you let me have a new runabout—a Pierce, painted any color I like?”
Her mother merely smiled at her but Allie knew her claim was good. She turned to her sister as her mother left the room.
“She’s going to do it, Bobbie, and we might just as well get something out of it. I’ll tell the girls I’m getting my new car that way and they’ll all help. We’ll give little Miss Olson the time of her life.”
“You get more out of it than I do, I notice.” Barbara was inspecting herself in the mirror of her vanity case from which she allowed nothing except sleep to separate her.
“That’s all right, Bob. I’ll do most of the heavy work, I’ll bet.”
“I shan’t be able to do much, I’ll tell you that. Miss Burns wants me for fittings every day next week and I’ve a lot of dates, for evenings.”
“Ted’s giving you quite a rush, isn’t he darling? Do you think he’s landed this time or is it just that it’s your turn?”
Barbara did not blush. She looked straight at her sister, her slim face disgusted.
“Pretty raw, aren’t you? As a matter of fact I think he could be landed if I had the slightest desire to do it. I’m not at all sure that I want him.”
Allie grinned.
“That’s all right. That’s what they all say, all the ones he gives a rush and leaves lamenting. I am sort of surprised that you’d fall for him so hard. Even if he is the ideal lover, every one who isn’t cross-eyed knows how he does it. I’d like a little more originality, myself.”
“I tell you this, Allie. That man has been misunderstood. Because he’s so rich and good looking every one’s chased after him and then when he was decently civil they’ve taken advantage of him by spreading stories about his flirtations. He’s told me some things about girls—”
“Dirty cad,” said Allie, cheerfully.
“All right, if you want to be insulting, I won’t talk to you.”
“Well, tell me what he said. I won’t think about his being a dirty cad until afterwards.”
What humor there was was lost on Barbara.
“I don’t care to talk any more about him.”
Barbara looked at her watch to conclude matters.
“And by the way, Allie, mother said I could use the limousine. I’ve got a lot of things to do and I’ll need Chester all afternoon. Mrs. Watts is taking mother to the Morley reception and I’m calling for her. She said you could have the electric.”
“My God!” said Allie. “Why doesn’t she offer me a hearse? Thanks, I’d sooner take old 1898 out again. And think about that Pierce I’m going to earn.”
She was out of the room in a minute, flying up the stairs, some grotesque words to a dance tune floating behind her. The Packard runabout, “old 1898,” was humming down the garage drive half an hour later. Stopping at two houses impressive as her own, she regaled the girls who were her friends with accounts of the “Swedish invasion.” It was a good story, especially with the promise of the reward tacked on the end.