Hobart delayed no longer, though he was thinking with some concentration just then; and, bidding Miss Voss and his brother-in-law a quick good-night, he went by them and hurried toward the summoning voice.
Descending the steps arm-in-arm, and talking, old John and Julietta did not seem to hear the word of farewell;—Hobart was some distance away when the scrupulous Tower called after him: “Hobart, did you say, ‘Good-night’? I beg your pardon; I was listening to Julietta. Good-night, Hobart. Good-night, Anne.” Then, as Hobart got into his own car, he could hear his brother-in-law busily talking beside the other. “And now, my dear Julietta, if you’ll be so kind as to step in and sit beside Mildred, I believe you’ll be quite comfortable. There’s an extra rug, Julietta, if you——”
But Mrs. Simms had already spoken to her chauffeur, and the engine was in motion. As they drove away, she and her husband could still hear the thoughtful old John addressing himself to the subject of Julietta’s comfort, and replying to her thanks. “Not at all, my dear Julietta; it’s the greatest imaginable pleasure. And if you’ll be so kind as to allow me to place this other rug over your knees, Julietta——”
The Simms’ car passed out of hearing, and within the dark interior its owner continued to be thoughtful. He was still certain that Mildred indulged herself in mere folly when she worried about steady, simple old John. But he was not so sure of the artlessness of Julietta;—the final little interview upon the veranda had somewhat shaken his convictions in regard to Julietta.
“I suppose you’re pleased with yourself,” Mrs. Simms said, icily, after an extended silence.
“I couldn’t decline,” he returned, easily. “You didn’t give me a chance to.”
“Hobart, that’s really too much! You stopped me—interrupted me when I was in the very act of declining for you.”
“That was the reason,” he explained. “I couldn’t let you decline for me. It might have looked as though I let my wife do embarrassing things for me that I haven’t backbone enough to do for myself.”
“How diplomatic!” she said. “May I ask your real reason for accepting her invitation after what I’d just told you about her? Perhaps, though, it was merely to hurt Mildred and irritate me. In that case, you made a perfect success of what you intended.”
“It wasn’t precisely that,” he laughed. “For one thing, if what you and Mildred believe has any foundation, why, old John certainly needs a chaperon; and, for another thing, I wanted the chance to see for myself if there is any reason to believe what you told me.”