“What, Miss Frink?”
“Mr. Ogden says I’ve got to stand up there by the portières like a black satin post, and receive the guests as they come in. I thought I should like to have you and Hugh stand by me in the ordeal.”
It entertained Miss Frink to see Millicent blush, and she watched the color come now, and the startled look in the girl’s eyes, like that of a bird ready to fly.
“You see,” went on Miss Frink, “somebody will have to nudge me when I say, ‘Good-evening, Mr. Griscom; I see you put that deal over for the Woman’s Club Building!’ ‘Good-evening, Mr. Bacon; so that rise in real estate across the river is upon us. Congratulations!’ etc., etc.”
“But I wouldn’t be any good, Miss Frink, and I—and I couldn’t—it would—for you to honor Hugh and me together like that—”
Miss Frink sighed. “I suppose I should have to call another town meeting to tell them again that there was nothing in it. I was saying what I would like to have; but, as a matter of fact, Mr. Grimshaw would be very justly hurt if I planned on Hugh’s supporting me.”
Millicent looked relieved. “Mr. Grimshaw is just the right one,” she said.
“And you would have no objection to standing up with him?” Miss Frink’s quizzical smile was playing about her lips.
The young girl shook her head.