“No, but I don't know what I do see.”
“My dear—there's our car! Let me introduce you. The workbag, if you please, of the District Nurse, Mary Winship. I have not the pleasure—”
“Gloria Abercrombie,” bowed Gloria politely, but her eyes danced. She liked this small, neat Mary Winship. They got into the car together.
“I live right across the street,” Gloria added, when they were safely seated.
“So do I! I've seen you over there rocking a magnificent gray cat. Does it feel good?”
“The cat—Abou Ben Adhem? He's the warmest, softest thing!”
“No, sitting. I hardly ever do it, so I'm not a good judge. You always look so rested over there—it rests me to see you.”
The pleasant laugh jostled with the lurching of the car; it had the effect of being tremulous with some emotion, but there was nothing tremulous about the placid face beside Gloria.
“You poor dear!” Gloria burst out impetuously. “How tired to pieces you must get! I've pitied you every one of these hot days.”
“Don't!” smiled the other. “Pity my poor folks. Why, here's my street so soon!” She clambered down with her heavy bag and nodded back.