“That’s why I ask you to tell me everything. Do, Maida, I’m sure I can help you.”
“Wait till they come,” was all Maida would say in response to his repeated requests.
And at last they came.
Smiling and hearty, Samuel Appleby reëntered the Wheeler home, apparently as self-assured and hopeful as when he left it.
Keefe was courteous and polite as always and Genevieve Lane was prettier than ever by reason of some new Boston-bought clothes.
Allen was introduced to the newcomers and sized up by one glance of Samuel Appleby’s keen eyes. Privately he decided that this young man was a very formidable rival of his son. But he greeted Allen with great cordiality, which Jeff thought it best to return, although he felt an instinctive dislike for the man’s personality.
“Come along with me, Maida,” and with daring familiarity, Genevieve put her hand through Maida’s arm and drew her toward the stairs. “I have the same room, I s’pose,” she babbled on; “I’ve lots of new things I want to show you. And,” she added as they entered the room, and she closed the door, “I want a talkfest with you before the others begin.”
“What about?” asked Maida, feeling the subject would be one of importance.
“Well, it’s just this. And don’t be too shocked if I speak right out in meetin’. I’ve determined to marry into this bunch that I’m working for.”
“Have you?” laughed Maida. “Are they equally determined?”