Coming forward, she sat down on the carpeted foot-board attached to his reclining chair, leaned her head against his knee, and stretched her fingers toward the fire. He laid one large dimpled hand on her shoulder, and she turned her cheek to touch it. After the lapse of some minutes the clock struck, and Eglah sprang up.
"Barely time to dress for the Secretary's dinner! Has the carriage been ordered?"
"Yes. I can doze a while longer, as I have to change only my coat, vest, and tie."
"Eglah, do you need my help in dressing, or will Octavia suit you best?" asked Mrs. Mitchell, who sat at a small table near the hearth, matching silk squares for an afghan.
"You can revise me finally, and punctuate me with additional pins when I come down. Don't let father oversleep himself."
Senator Kent straightened the folds of his padded dressing-gown, and through half-closed eyes watched the small hands hovering over silken scraps, and wondered, as he had often done before, what manner of man could have been the "overseer" husband for whom this grave, pretty, reticent, demure widow still mourned in black garments, relieved only by narrow white ruches at her throat and wrists.
The clock ticked softly, and the senator seemed asleep, when the ringing of the door bell roused him. Some moments passed before the library door opened and a servant entered.
"A note, sir. It was laid on top of the bell knob, and the messenger did not wait, for I looked up and down the street."
"Evidently of no importance, else the delivery would not have been so careless."
He lazily took an envelope from the silver salver and held it up.