“You are quite right, Miss Fisher, Miss Barton and I have a great many things to talk over. You are very kind. Am I to have the pleasure, Miss Barton?”
Helène had decided. “I shall be very pleased to dine with you, Mr. Morton; but I do not care to see a play for some time yet.” Then turning to Margaret she asked: “You are sure, Margy, you don’t mind?”
“Not at all, my dear. Mr. Morton, I have acted as guardian to Helen for the past five months, and have been very strict, as you see. Perhaps I have been selfish; but Helen has been nowhere without me. She is very dear to me. You may, therefore, consider it a great compliment that I am willing to place this little treasure of mine in your care. But you must promise that you will look after her, won’t you?”
“I am honored, Miss Fisher, and beg to assure you that I deeply appreciate your trust. I shall take your place with Miss Barton.” Morton smiled, fully appreciating this unusual anxiety on Miss Fisher’s part.
“Will you excuse me now, for a few minutes, while I ’phone to my mother?”
Margaret followed him with her eyes as Morton wound his way between the tables. Helène sat gazing dreamily out of the window absorbed in her thoughts. Margaret turned to her friend.
“Well, my dear, am I to know all about him? I am bursting with curiosity, you know; but don’t tell me more than you care to.”
Helène turned her clear, honest eyes on her friend’s face. “There is not very much to tell, Margy. I met Mr. Morton about a year ago under unusual circumstances. He was a friend of my father’s. My father died since then, and you are the one friend I have now. Mr. Morton was very kind to me at the time, and I believe was willing to assume certain responsibilities on my behalf, for my father’s sake. I promised that I would let him know this autumn how I had fared, and it was only this morning that I sent him the letter which he has not yet received. I shall tell him now all that has happened to me, and he may be able to give me news of old friends abroad. Did you really intend to go out with Mr. Van Dusen?”
“Yes, dear. I was going to tell you about it, and now it will be pleasant for both of us. Your Mr. Morton, Helen, is the real swell!”
Helène laughed. “Yes, I suppose that’s what you’d call him. But to me he has been a fine friend—the best I have had—except you, dear.”