Betty was glad to be alone, and for some minutes she sat thinking—thinking—while a perplexed smile played about her sweet mouth and a new gladness shone in her eyes, a gladness that kept coming back and would not be denied, try as she would to frown it away. There were difficulties and sorrows attending Miss Elizabeth Thompson, but one great cheering fact rose above them and made life seem worth living after all, the eternally blessed fact that, when youth hears the call of love, then nothing else in the world matters very much. She rose suddenly from her chair and, searching eagerly in the waste basket, drew forth a crumpled sheet and, smoothing it out, gazed at it with quickening pulses.
"My dearest Betty," she murmured, and her lovely face was radiant with a great happiness. "My dearest Betty! My dearest Betty!" She spoke the words softly, over and over again. And, yielding to the cry of her heart, she pressed the precious paper to her lips, then proudly, joyously thrust it into her bosom.
CHAPTER VIII
A FACE IN THE GLASS
Shortly before one o'clock the chiming gong for luncheon resounded pleasantly through the big house and Mrs. Baxter, with thoughtful consideration, came to the library for Betty, who, owing to her secluded dinner the evening before and her breakfast in bed, had not yet met the relatives.
"Don't you think, my dear," began Eleanor, "that we had better stop this foolishness before it goes any farther? Really, now?"
"It's not foolishness, it's very far from foolishness," declared the girl. "You promised to respect my wishes, Mrs. Baxter." Her eyes were so serious that the other yielded forthwith and, leading the way to the dining room, presented Mr. Baxter's new secretary, Miss Thompson, to the assembled guests; and, suddenly, by their indifferent civility, Betty realized how, by a word, she had reduced her importance in the world of Ipping House to about that of a nursery governess.
Very much on her dignity, the new secretary began her meal, seated between Harriet Merle and Lionel Fitz-Brown and directly opposite the Countess Clendennin, whom she studied with alert feminine interest, partly because Kate was obviously a pretty woman of the dashing, showy kind that all other women regard as natural enemies (especially if they happen to be widows under thirty) and chiefly because the countess had Bob Baxter on her right and seemed disposed to make the most of this proximity. "She isn't losing any time," thought Betty, giving Lionel the "listening look," while she noted the breezy unconcern of Kate Clendennin's attack. "She'll be calling him 'old top' in another minute," she said to herself, and Kate, in the next breath, actually did say "my dear boy." Betty laughed aloud, causing Lionel to beam with the happy consciousness of having scored a hit.
Some deprecating references to a Hollandaise sauce served with the turbot drew from Eleanor an apology for the inefficiency of a new cook. There was trouble in the kitchen, she explained, owing to the fact that Mr. Baxter had discharged the housekeeper, Mrs. Edge. This was the first thing he had done the previous evening. He thought Mrs. Edge extravagant and no doubt she was, and, of course, Mr. Baxter must do as he thought best, but it did seem a pity to upset the household.
This indication of Hiram's attitude toward extravagance cast a momentary gloom over the company, which was dissipated by the countess, who pointed out amusingly, and with surprising culinary knowledge, exactly what was wrong with the Hollandaise and added that the late count, her husband, had been an invalid for years before his death, during which time Kate had personally seen to the preparation of his meals.