“But it’s only between ourselves, Beccy.”
“But you might——”
“No, I mightn’t. What is it, Jacob?”
“Mr. Ross has come, sir, with the young lady, and wants to know if he shall bring her up.”
“Yes,” answered Carter, after a moment’s hesitation, during which he was fitting on a cream-colored glove, with all his might. “Take her into Mrs. Carter’s bouder. We’ll be there in no time.”
Jacob went out, and his master tugged away at the second glove, which refused to meet at the wrist.
“Mrs. Carter, will you give a little attention? This confounded button.”
“Yes, my dear, I know what it is, having suffered. There.”
The glove was closed so tightly that Carter’s wrist began to swell above it, but the spirit of martyrdom was upon him, and he marched out of his room without a word of complaint, resolving to perform his social duties to the uttermost.
Eva Laurence was standing near the window of that sumptuous little room. Her eyes had just fallen on Ruthy’s pictures, framed in an exquisite net-work of gold, and the pleasant surprise brightened her face with a smile that made Carter hold his breath.