“No, it is Mr. Stanwood. It seems he started to read law, and then they needed him in France.”
“Oh, I told Mr. Ogden that you were a celebrated lawyer.”
“You little girl! Blowing the old man’s horn.” He put his arm around her.
“What is the errand, Grandpa?”
“To bring Mr. Stanwood over here.”
“Oh!”
“When you get through the reading, he will be waiting for you on the veranda.”
“I don’t see why Mr. Ogden doesn’t bring him.”
“Why should he, when you are coming right home, anyway? Possibly Mr. Ogden doesn’t care to call on us every day.”
What could be simpler than picking Mr. Stanwood up on the veranda, and showing him the way to her grandfather? Millicent was vexed with herself for feeling as if she were setting out on an adventure when she went to her reading that day. She could see Hugh as he sat on the arm of his easy-chair, bejeweled with crimson petals, swinging his gay foot, and snapping his fingers in time to the jazz. At least he would not have on that cursed dressing-gown to-day, and she would show him by her businesslike manner that she was simply doing an errand for Miss Frink in being his escort.