“A good deal better, probably,” answered Lanley, with a gruffness that only partly hid his happiness. There was no real cloud in his sky. If Mrs. Wayne had accepted his offer of marriage, by this time he would have begun to think of the horror of telling Adelaide and Mathilde and his own servants. Now he thought of nothing but the agreeable evening before him, one of many.
When Pete came in to dress, Lanley was just in the act of drawing the last neat double lines for his balance. He had been delayed by the fact that Mrs. Wayne had been talking to him almost continuously since his return to figuring. She was in high spirits, for even saints are stimulated by a respectful adoration.
CHAPTER XVIII
Recognizing the neat back of Mr. Lanley’s gray head, Pete’s first idea was that he must have come to induce Mrs. Wayne to conspire with him against the marriage; but he abandoned this notion on seeing his occupation.
“Hullo, Mr. Lanley,” he said, stooping to kiss his mother with the casual affection of the domesticated male. “You have my job.”
“It is a great pleasure to be of any service,” said Mr. Lanley.
“It was in a terrible state, it seems, Pete,” said his mother.
“She makes her fours just like sevens, doesn’t she?” observed Pete.
“I did not notice the similarity,” replied Mr. Lanley. He glanced at Mrs. Wayne, however, and enjoyed his denial almost as much as he had enjoyed the discovery that the Wilsey ancestor had not been a Signer. He felt that somehow, owing to his late-nineteenth-century tact, the breach between him and Pete had been healed.
“Mr. Lanley is going to stay and dine with me,” said Mrs. Wayne.