Not all Miss Elder's gentle hospitality, Mrs. Pettigrew's bright-eyed interest, Susie's efforts at polite attention, and Vivian's visible sympathy could compensate Mrs. St. Cloud for one inimical presence.
"You must have been a mere girl in those days," she said sweetly. "What a lovely little town it was—under the big trees."
"It certainly was," the doctor answered dryly.
"There is such a fine atmosphere in a college town, I think," pursued the lady. "Especially in a co-educational town—don't you think so?"
Vivian was a little surprised. She had had an idea that her admired friend did not approve of co-education. She must have been mistaken.
"Such a world of old memories as you call up, Dr. Bellair," their visitor pursued. "Those quiet, fruitful days! You remember Dr. Black's lectures? Of course you do, better than I. What a fine man he was! And the beautiful music club we had one Winter—and my little private dancing class—do you remember that? Such nice boys, Miss Elder! I used to call them my acolytes."
Susie gave a little gulp, and coughed to cover it.
"I guess you'll have to excuse me, ladies," said Dr. Bellair. "Good-night." And she walked upstairs.
Vivian's face flushed and paled and flushed again. A cold pain was trying to enter her heart, and she was trying to keep it out. Her grandmother glanced sharply from one face to the other.
"Glad to've met you, Mrs. St. Cloud," she said, bobbing up with decision. "Good-night, Rella—and Susie. Come on child. It's a wonder your mother hasn't sent after us."