Helène gave her a glad look and smiled. The two were once again dear friends and each felt the happier for it.
Mrs. Kane came in bearing two boxes of flowers. “From Thornley’s,” she cried, “we sure have some swell admirers, haven’t we?” Her face was beaming. Not for anything would she have foregone the pleasure of bringing in the flowers. She also saw the dress and catching Margaret’s eye she gave her a meaning look. How quickly women seize at the little straws floating on the swift current!
The box addressed “Miss Barton” contained some magnificent roses on long stems. Margaret gave an exclamation of admiration. Then taking out a large bouquet of violets she held them out to Helène: “To match your eyes, my dear,” she laughingly remarked, with a low curtsey.
At last both were ready to their mutual satisfaction, though not before Margaret had made a careful survey of Helène from all sides to make certain that she had received the finishing touches that would heighten her darling’s charms. Then she had to leave, because Mr. Van Dusen had arrived and was waiting for her in the parlor.
The Mr. Van Dusen who had now become a regular frequenter at the Kane boarding-house was a different gentleman from the dapper young man of the summer. His visits to Margaret had become the talk of the table. Helène, however, was the only one who seemed to see nothing of a special purpose in his calls. She always took him as a matter of course. Under Margaret’s influence, no doubt, Van Dusen’s manner had lost its flippancy and air of condescension. He had gained both in reserve and tact, so much so, indeed, that in his intercourse with Margaret, it was he who played the part of the serious friend and she that of the light-hearted tease. To see them as they sat in the parlor one would have said that Van Dusen was undoubtedly a man of experience and good sense.
Margaret had not failed to notice the improvement. She was glad of the change and her lightness of manner may have been part of her strategy to bring out the stronger nature she knew he possessed. She told him of her meeting with Helène’s friend and the luncheon at the Waldorf.
“Who was he?” inquired Van Dusen somewhat anxiously.
“Oh, a very handsome man, evidently rich, and looked like a Westerner and with the nicest manners and voice. He is a—Mr. Morton.”
“Oh, how did he come to know Miss Barton?”
“They met abroad some time ago. He didn’t seem sure of her name, because he called her by a word that sounded like Countess. What do you make of it? I didn’t like to ask Helène more than she cared to tell me.”