“We were not looking for you here. Did Mr. and Mrs. Toomey come? Are you alone?”
“I brought Katie Prentice—she’s sitting over there.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Taylor’s expression changed.
The boy looked at her pleadingly as he added:
“She has so few pleasures, and she would so like to have acquaintances—to make friends.”
“I dare say,” dryly.
“She—she doesn’t know any one. Won’t you—all come and join us?” There was entreaty in the boy’s voice.
Mrs. Taylor rose out of her hips until she looked all of seven feet tall to Hughie.
“You must excuse me, Mr. Disston.” She hesitated, then added in explanation: “When we came West I told myself that I must not allow myself to deteriorate in rough surroundings, and I have made it a rule never to mingle with any but the best, Mr. Disston. My father,” impressively, “was a prominent undertaker in Philadelphia, and as organist in a large Methodist church in that city I came in contact with the best people, so you understand,” blandly, “don’t you, why I cannot—”
The boy was red to the rim of his ears as he bowed formally to mother and daughter.