The young woman got the reaction she was trying for.
“No, you can’t,” returned Miss Frink promptly. “That’s where I draw the line. Let the men do that.”
Mrs. Lumbard rose. “Please excuse me,” she said faintly. It was the psychological moment. She had put Miss Frink in the wrong. Let her reflect a little. She knew the conscientious fairness under that rough husk. “I feel ill, Aunt Susanna,” she faltered. “I should like to lie down for a while.”
Her handkerchief to her eyes she passed up the broad staircase, Miss Frink looking after her, and feeling baffled.
“Yes, you’d like to lie down the rest of your life,” she declared mentally. It was too bad that Alice Ray could not have given the legacy of her splendid backbone to her descendants. “It’s tiresome, too,” added Miss Frink to herself. “I meant her to play to the boy about now; but I suppose she’s got to snivel just so long.”
There being no tears behind Mrs. Lumbard’s handkerchief, she was herself when in the dim large hall above she met Mr. Ogden and the butler coming out of the green room.
“You can go,” she said hurriedly to the latter. “Mr. Ogden and I are old friends, Stebbins. I will show him Mr. Stanwood’s room.”
The man bowed and departed.