“Oh, you’re all right. You’re fundamentally all right, and that means you’ll rise to every opportunity you get.” Dick’s voice took on some of the patronage of a leader for his follower. “I’d bank on Ellery Norris if the rest of the world turned sour.”
“Thanks,” said Ellery briefly, and their eyes met in that interchange of assurance which is the masculine American equivalent for embrace and eternal protestation. Mrs. Percival smiled to herself, amused yet pleased by the frank boyish affection.
“What kind of a time did you have at Mr. Early’s reception?” she asked abruptly.
“Oh, it was a circus with three rings. In the middle ring there was a performing hippopotamus of a Hindu. He was really a sunburst. Then in the farthest ring there were a thousand women with big hats, all talking at once. But in the nearest there were just Madeline and Mrs. Lenox, and that was a good show. By Jove! Madeline is prettier than ever, and hasn’t found it out yet. That’s the advantage of sending a girl off to a women’s college where there is no man to enlighten her.”
“Pretty! That’s not the word to describe Miss Elton. She’s too simple and dignified,” remonstrated Norris.
“Bowled over already, are you?” Dick jeered.
“Ellery is quite right,” Mrs. Percival interrupted. “Madeline has something Easter-lily-like about her.”
“You grow enthusiastic, mother.”
“I love her very dearly, Dick.”
“Norris and I are going out to see her to-morrow. We’ll take the motor, I guess.”