Ben looked at his mother, who was still cool and unexcited; and the expression on his face was a new one for her to meet.
"She isn't fit to be moved, Mother, and Miss Upton hasn't room. Miss Melody is exhausted. She has had a frightful experience," he said sternly.
If he had appealed she might have been touched, but it is doubtful. The grass stains, the quaint shawl, the hair that was rippling down to the rug, were none of them part of her visions of a daughter-in-law, and, at any rate, Ben shouldn't look at her like that—at her! for the sake of a friendless waif whose existence he had not suspected one week ago.
Miss Upton, understanding the situation perfectly, saved the hostess the trouble of replying.
"It won't hurt her a bit to drive as far as my house after she's been caperin' all over the sky!" she exclaimed, seizing Geraldine's hands.
The girl heard the declaration and essayed to rise while her eyes fixed on the round face bending over her.
"I want to go with you," she said.
"And you're going, my lamb," returned Miss Mehitable.
"Certainly, you shall have the car," said Mrs. Barry suavely.
She wished to send word to the chauffeur, she wished to give Geraldine tea, she was entirely polite and sufficiently solicitous, but her heir looked terrible things, and, bringing around the car, himself drove the guests to Miss Upton's Fancy Goods and Notions.