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.”