“Two of them help occasionally.”
Katherine winked meaningly at the rest of the Mountain Day party. “We’ll be there,” she said, “though it goes against my conscience to receive calls from such untruthful young gentlemen.”
The next Saturday afternoon Betty and Katherine established themselves ostentatiously on the front piazza to await the arrival of Mary’s callers, Rachel had gone to play basket-ball, and Roberta had refused to conspire against Mary’s peace of mind, particularly since the plot might involve having to talk to a man. Promptly at three o’clock two gentlemen arrived.
“Miss Brooks is that sorry, but she had to go out,” announced the maid in tones plainly audible to the two eavesdroppers. “Would you please to come back at four?”
Katherine and Betty exchanged disappointed glances. “Checked again. She’s too much for us,” murmured Katherine. “Shall we wait?”
“And is Miss Wales in–Miss Betty Wales?” pursued the spokesman, after a slight pause.
The maid looked severely at the occupants of the piazza. “Yes, sor, you can see that yoursilf,” she said and abruptly withdrew.
The man laughed and came quickly toward Betty, who had risen to meet him. “I’m John Parsons,” he said. “I roomed with your brother at Andover. He told me you were here and asked me to call. Didn’t he write to you too? Miss Brooks promised to present me, but as she isn’t in—”
“Oh, yes, Will wrote, and I’m very glad to meet you, Mr. Parsons,” Betty broke in. “Only I didn’t know you were–I mean I didn’t know that Miss Brooks’s caller was you. Miss Kittredge, Mr. Parsons. Wasn’t your friend going to wait?”
“Bob,” called Mr. Parsons after the retreating figure of his companion, “come back and hear about the runaway. You’re wanted.”