It was a curious moment for Ranken Townsend and his feelings were not unlike those of little Mrs. Guthrie. "My God!" he said to himself as he stood looking out at the wide river, its marvellous and strenuous life and the amazing sky-line of the buildings on the opposite bank; "has the time arrived already for me to lose my little girl? Am I so old that I have a young thing ripe enough for marriage and to bring into the world young things of her own?"
The artist had only met the elder Guthries once before, although Belle was a particular friend of his, having been frequently brought to his studio by Betty. He knew Peter only from having seen him in the treasured snapshots which his little daughter brought home with her from Oxford. He had to confess to himself—although his natural jealousy made him unwilling to do so—that Peter looked just the sort of man whom he would like his daughter to marry when her time came. And so he singled out Mrs. Guthrie almost at once and drew her aside. The breeze blew through his Viking beard, and a fellow-feeling brought into his eyes an expression of sympathy which immediately warmed Mrs. Guthrie's heart towards him. "I didn't want to come this afternoon, Mrs. Guthrie," he said. "Shall I explain why?"
"No," said the little mother. "I quite understand."
"Your boy and my girl are following the inevitable laws of nature, and it's rather hard luck for us both, isn't it?"
Mrs. Guthrie put her handkerchief up to her mouth and nodded.
"Betty's a good girl and I've only to look at you to know that the man to whom she's given her heart is a fine fellow. Well, it brings us up to another milestone, doesn't it?—one that I wish was still some years ahead. However, let's face it with pluck and with unselfishness, and be friends. Shall we?"
"Please," said the little mother, giving him her hand.
Ranken Townsend bared his head.
And then Dr. Guthrie came up and peered at the man who was talking to his wife. He vaguely remembered the artist's picturesque appearance and fine open face, but he had forgotten his name.
Mrs. Guthrie hurried to the rescue. "You remember Mr. Townsend, of course, Hunter," she said. "Betty's father, you know."