He had come in late one afternoon and had stayed on, as he often did to dinner. In the middle of the meal Lydia was called away—Governor Albee wanted to speak to her on the telephone. She sprang up from the table and left the room. Miss Bennett looked pathetically at Bobby.
"It's to decide whether we go to Washington to-morrow," she said.
"To Washington?"
"The governor is going to testify before a Senate committee and has invited us to come. It will be very interesting," Miss Bennett added loyally.
"But the Pulsifers?"
"Oh, I'm surprised Lydia cares so little for that. Of course, at my age, I'm grateful to escape it."
"Oh, Benny," said Bobby, "you're not a bit! You'd much rather go to it than to any old Senate committee. You love parties for the same reason that the lamb loved Mary."
"You make me seem very frivolous—at fifty-five," said Miss Bennett.
Then Lydia came back from the pantry, her eyes bright, and laid her hand on her companion's shoulder, a rare caress, as she passed.
"We're going, Benny. It isn't closed to the public." Her whole face was softened and lit by her pleasure.