“And—let’s plan it all out now, dyah. Will you have it at St. Louis, and Doctah Storey?—why—there—there now——”
Emily had pillowed her head on Dade’s full bosom, and her long-restrained tears had flooded forth. The larger girl, with the motherly instinct that comes with brimming health, wrapped her friend in her arms, and soothed her, though disengaging one hand now and then to wipe the perspiration that bedewed her own brow. The two girls sat there in silence, rocking back and forth among the pillows in the darkened parlor, until Dade suddenly broke the spell by sitting bolt upright and exclaiming:
“Mon Dieu, there comes that big De Freese girl. I’m going.”
And she rose to effect her incontinent desertion at once. Turning in from the street, a large, tranquil blonde, gowned and gloved and bearing a chiffon parasol to keep the sun from her milky complexion, was calmly and coolly crossing the yard.
“She’s got call in her eye!” exclaimed Dade. And then she hurried on, before she fled, to say all she had left unsaid:
“I’ll be ovah this aftahnoon, and we’ll plan it all out—and I’m going to make mamma spend next wintah in Washington. It’ll help some of her diseases—what’s the climate of Washington good for, do you know?”
But Emily had risen to glance out the window, and then, with her hands to her face, had fled from the room. Dade heard the patter of her feet on the stairs as she gathered up her skirts and soared aloft. And then in her surprise she looked out the window again and saw a tall man, with a broad black hat slouched over his eyes, taking long steps across the lawn. He seemed boorishly to be set on beating the mild blonde to the door.
The two callers gained the veranda at the same moment, before the bell could be rung to summon the maid. As she left the parlor Dade snatched her hat from her head and sent it sailing across to the divan, and then, at the door, she smiled and said:
“Good mohning, Miss de Freese. Miss Hawkness? No, she’s ill, and isn’t visible this mohning. I’m staying with heh. She’ll be downright sorry—and Mr. Hawkness, sir,” she turned to Garwood, “left wohd to have you wait. He’ll be hyah directly. Just step into the drawing-room please,” she smiled, but with a little scowl, at the obtuse politician, who seemed disposed to dispute with her, though under the influence of her eyes, he obeyed, and when he had passed in, she continued:
“It’s too bad, Miss de Freese, raeally—and you’ve had such a walk this wahm mohning. Oh, nothing serious at all, just one of heh headaches, you know; I’ll tell heh—she’ll be awfully disappointed.”