"Lena's mash-man told her—Miss Morrell's coachman told him—she was coming over home one day this week, and perhaps——"
Jangle-jangle interrupted the bell at the front door, followed by the peculiarly business-like tread of Lena that ever indicated a suspicion of pedler or tramp, and a shuffling, slippered flight by Mrs. Lawton, who hissed over the banisters: "Say I'm lying down, resting, but will descend—that is, if she has sufficient knowledge of the amenities of social life to ask for me instead of my offspring."
Then as the girls gazed wonderingly at each other Lena appeared, smiling broadly, but somewhat puzzled too, saying: "The big actor voman's com' und ask for der mudder und for der miss ladies. Und I say ja, dey all com' by der house, und blease com' in by der sittin'-rooms, 'cause we didn't ever make of der fire in der parlor. Und she say dat vas right, der parlor never com' like a home, und I com' up to tell. Und she leave all dose visitin' tickets on der hall table. Und I don't know for vy." And she held out five cards, adding, distressedly, "Und von of 'em has a man's name on it. Dat com' by mistake, eh? I take dat back to her?"
"No, no! Lena!" laughed the girls, "that's the card of her husband!"
"Vell, shall I take back of der extra tickets? She com', a nice voman, und it is too bad to have of der tickets vasted?"
"Oh, Lena! do go and tell mamma Miss Morrell is waiting, and leave the cards alone," said Dorothy, "and we will explain about them to you by and by!"
And after Mrs. Lawton had attempted to crush her caller by explaining the "wait" for her descent by the statement that she "hardly expected callers before three," Miss Morrell, with a gracious ignoring of the intended snub that the girls adored her for, proceeded to explain the necessity of calling early or not at all, as she had to return to Brooklyn in time for her play. Whereupon Mrs. Lawton found herself, to her own surprise be it stated, descending from her high horse and eagerly discussing the probabilities of English five-o'clock teas ever becoming really domesticated in America. And presently she went in search of Mr. Lawton (whom she knew to be in the kitchen whittling kindlings for the quick lighting of Lena's fire in the arctic-like morning).
And then Miss Morrell, happening to press Sybil's arm, brought forth a whimper of pain and an exhibition of bruises the cause of which she comprehended in a moment. "Oh, you poor mottled child—what a state you must be in? Have you been falling on the bare floor, then?"
"I've tried to fall on a mattress," confessed Sybil, "but some part of me always flies over on the floor."
Miss Morrell threw back her head and laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. "Then you must let me help you," she said, "it is very, very easy." She was drawing off her gloves as she spoke, and, tossing them to the piano, she stepped toward the centre of the room, saying, "You see, now—" She raised her hands toward her head, and without further preparation, without a warning word, she fell suddenly face downward with a crash that made things jingle on the mantel, and brought two startled screams from the girls and Mr. Lawton rushing to her assistance. That gentleman, bending over to lift her, was stricken helpless by her raising her head and asking, pleasantly: "My skirts are lying all right, aren't they?" Then she added: "Oh, how do you do, Mr. Lawton? Just give me your hand, will you? This dress is a little tight for falling in, and I can't get up." Then, turning to Sybil, she laughed at her astonished face: "I'm afraid you did not catch the trick, did you?"