Mr. Wilmarth receives her with just the right touch of graciousness, praises a little, finds a little fault, suggests a touch here and there, and admits that he is pleased with two, and thinks he shall use them. Marcia goes up to the seventh heaven of delight, and sees before her fame and fortune.
"Look over these," says Mr. Wilmarth. "They do not quite suit me. See if you can suggest anything. These Japanese designs admit of endless variation."
An hour passes ere Marcia consults her watch, and then she professes to be greatly surprised. What must poor Dolly think of her? "For I never make such unconscionable calls," she declares, and fancies that she blushes over it.
"It has been extremely pleasant to me," Mr. Wilmarth replies, in a tone of grave compliment. "I am so much alone. I miss your father more than any of you would suspect, I dare say. We used to consult together so much, and he was in and out a dozen times a day."
"But everything goes on well?" says Marcia, in an undecided tone of inquiry.
"Yes, if by that you mean prosperously. We are on the high road to fortune," and he laughs disagreeably. "I only wish your father were alive to enjoy it. It has been a hard pull for the last two years."
"Poor papa!" Marcia gives a pathetic little sniff. "But then it is something to have gained a success!"
"Yes, when one has friends or relatives to enjoy it. I sometimes wonder why I go on struggling for wealth, to leave it to some charity at the last."
"Have you really no one?" Marcia lowers her voice to a point of sentiment.
"Not a living soul to take a kindly interest in me," he answers, in a bitter fashion. "All my kith and kin, and they were not many, died years ago. If I had been attractive to women's eyes——"