“I don’t say you do, but they want to see you,—and—oh, pshaw, now, be a little sociable. It won’t hurt you.”
“Please say to Mrs. Bates that I have no desire to form new acquaintances, and I beg to be excused from appearing.”
“But do you know who she is? She’s the lady that’s going to marry Doctor Waring, the new President. And Pinckney Payne, her cousin, is a mighty nice boy.”
Mrs. Adams thought she detected an expression of wavering on the girl’s face, and she followed up her advantage.
“Yes, he’s an awfully nice chap and just about your age, I should judge.”
“I’ll go down,” said Miss Austin, briefly, and Mrs. Adams indulged in a sly smile of satisfaction.
“It’s Pinky that fetched her,” she thought to herself. “Young folks are young folks, the world over.”
Triumphantly, Mrs. Adams ushered Anita into the small parlor.
“Mrs. Bates,” she said, “and Mr. Payne,—Miss Austin.”
Then she left them, for Esther Adams had strict notions of her duties as a boarding-house landlady.