"And he wants you and me to help him fill it up with people," Pendleton went on, with the frankness for which he was famous.
Mrs. Maxwell looked quickly over her tea-cup at Flood, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly. For once Flood could not control his expression; his face flushed deeply as he leaned towards her.
"If you only would!" he begged. "I thought—I scarcely dared to hope—that perhaps if—if Miss Randall came along, too, you might consent to play hostess for a lone man?"
Cecilia was a practiced campaigner, as she had had need to be during the dreary years before she had Rosamund's money to count upon; instantly she recalled the place Flood could afford to call a "little farm," Oakleigh, white-pillared and stately, with its kennels and stables and conservatories. She could not imagine why he had chosen her unless it were thanks to Pendleton; yet, to be hostess of Oakleigh, even for a week or two, distinctly appealed to her. It would be possible enough, if she were to go as Rosamund's chaperon. Even Flood had seen that; and if it were left to her to fill its rooms with guests, how many debts might she not cancel! The opportunity was wonderful, a gift from Heaven; but could she count upon Rosamund? Would Rosamund go? There was a lack of complacency in Rosamund that her sister frequently found trying; she wondered how far she might dare to commit her to accepting Flood's invitation. Yet daring and Cecilia were not strangers, and the opportunity was unique.
"I am not sure of Rosamund's dates," she said.
Flood hesitated; but Pendleton, too, had been thinking about the splendor of Oakleigh.
"Oh, but Benny has no dates for Oakleigh yet!" he said. "So you may set your own time, Cecilia. Isn't that so, Benny?"
"If you only will," Flood besought her.
After all, Cecilia thought, there was nothing Rosamund could do, if she definitely promised for her!
"Then I think June will be quite perfect," she said, and said it none too soon; for the door was suddenly framing the vision of Flood's desire.