“Oh, my others needed a shine.”
“Well, hurry up, do. When you’re ready come down to the reception hall. I’ll meet you.”
And Lois was off again, but instead of returning to her family, she suddenly remembered Mrs. Baird, and went off in search of her.
When Polly reached the reception-room, after deciding the weighty question of shoes, she found Bobbie, all six feet of him, blocking the doorway.
He was standing with his hands behind him, his head thrown back, and his eyes fixed intently on a colored print of Venice that hung to the right of the door.
Dr. Farwell was hidden by the piano. Farther back in the room Mrs. Farwell was looking out of the window and smiling. She had thrown back her dark brown feather boa, that so nearly matched her eyes, and Polly could see a waterfall of soft cream lace at her neck; her hands were in her lap, and she tapped the floor with one ridiculously tiny foot.
As Polly slowly approached the door she thought, wistfully, “What a darling to have for a mother,” and then, “how under the sun will I ever get past Bob. Well, I’m here now and I can’t run.” And taking her courage in both hands, she walked the rest of the way to the door, and after a nervous little cough, said:
“I beg your pardon.”
Bob, startled from his reverie, turned, and seeing her, jumped to one side.
“Oh, I’m sorry! excuse me, I—” In his confusion he backed into the piano stool and sat down suddenly without meaning to.