PLENTY OF "ER."
THE SAME.
March 2. Monday.
I MUST carry on to-day my story of Saturday evening. It was impossible to finish before going to bed.
Maggie could not at all get over the little contretemps in the hall. I could see all dinner-time that she was under a weight of shy uneasiness, even talking and laughing with Gladys; and every remark addressed to me was accompanied by a renewed bloom. The little hesitancy of manner, the bright colouring, and the droop of her long curved lashes over the grey eyes, quite changed her from the Maggie of the last three days. I had not guessed before that Maggie could look so sweet. Few people gain in attractiveness from an uncomfortable mood, but just a very few do, and Maggie seems to be one of those few.
The Hepburns not being strictly counted "company," Denham and the twins were present. Talk flowed without difficulty. I found Mrs. Hepburn a charming g person, well-read and well-informed. Gladys Hepburn's simple style of girlish chat with the other girls made me wonder again at her reputed authorship; though now and then a passing flash of something, a little out of the common way, showed possibilities of more below the surface than appeared outside.
Eustace had an engagement at the Park, and Thyrza was unsociably silent—one might almost say, gloomy. But Nona and Denham's tongues seldom ceased to be heard, and I saw Elfie exerting herself in cheerful wise.
Two or three times the subject of news from abroad came up; and each time Elfie eagerly turned the conversation to some other topic. I had noted before this shrinking on her part from speech about the absent mother and sister. It was more marked on Saturday evening, just because the matter was brought forward more often.
Three times Elfie's efforts were successful; but the fourth time, they failed. We were then having dessert, and the two little ones were present. Mr. Romilly, as he cracked nuts for Popsie and Pet, launched into a series of remarks about his wife, addressed to Mrs. Hepburn and myself. He enlarged on the enormous relief to his mind of knowing that his beloved Gertrude had borne the journey so well, so very well, so much better than might have been expected—er!
"At this time of the year," he repeated in his thin small voice, "the risk so great—really we cannot be thankful enough—er! I am sure we may hope in a very short time, Miss Conway, to hear that our dear invalid is truly benefiting by the change—er, and is growing stronger—"