“I don’t know anything about it,” returned the girl, her cheeks reddening at his manner. “I only know that I feel I would rather do exactly what Miss Frink asked. She may have a further errand for me.”
The secretary motioned to Stebbins to go.
“I will take you, then,” he said shortly.
He preceded her up the stairs in silence, thinking his own disturbed thoughts about that band in the street, and poor broken Miss Frink’s obsession.
Arrived at the door of the White Room, they could hear a buzz of voices within, and a man’s laugh. The secretary knocked punctiliously, and Miss Frink herself opened the door.
“That’s a good child,” she said to Millicent. “You made good time. I think you must have read ‘A Message to Garcia.’ Come in and meet Prince Charming.”
Millicent, her cheeks stinging in the sudden understanding of the secretary’s gibe, yielded up her package, and with wide eyes beheld the smiling face above the dressing-gown. She impulsively took a step backward and Adèle’s lip curled at her expression.
“No, no,” said Miss Frink, “come right in. That’s what she called you, Hugh, before she even knew of your existence. Prince Charming. Now see if you can live up to it.”
Hugh rose, and, though his mind was still echoing with their jokes about the recital, this surprising statement fixed his attention on the blushing, unsmiling girl with the startled eyes, whom Miss Frink was drawing forward. “Miss Duane, Prince Charming,” she said.
The two young things gazed at each other. Poor little intense, conscious Millicent could only nod, her eyes frightened and fascinated.