“But how do you get money to live on? I mean, how am I to know that I’ll get my pay?” she persisted. “Excuse me, but that kind of business doesn’t sound very good-paying; and, you see, I don’t know you. And in these days—” An expressive pause finished her sentence.
Mr. Smith smiled.
“Quite right, madam. You are wise to be cautious. I had a letter of introduction to your brother from Mr. Robert Chalmers. I think he will vouch for me. Will that do?”
“Oh, that’s all right, then. But that isn’t saying how much you’ll pay. Now, I think—”
There came a sharp knock at the outer door. The eager Benny jumped to his feet, but his aunt shook her head and went to the door herself. There was a murmur of voices, then a young man entered the hall and sat down in the chair near the hatrack. When Mrs. Blaisdell returned her eyes were very bright. Her cheeks showed two little red spots. She carried herself with manifest importance.
“If you’ll just excuse me a minute,” she apologized to Mr. Smith, as she swept by him and opened a door across the room, nearly closing it behind her.
Distinctly then, from beyond the imperfectly closed door, came to the ears of Benny and Mr. Smith these words, in Mrs. Blaisdell’s most excited accents:—“Mellicent, it’s Carl Pennock. He wants you to go auto-riding with him down to the Lake with Katie Moore and that crowd.”
“Mother!” breathed an ecstatic voice.
What followed Mr. Smith did not hear, for a nearer, yet more excited, voice demanded attention.
“Gee! Carl Pennock!” whispered Benny hoarsely. “Whew! Won’t my sister Bess be mad? She thinks Carl Pennock’s the cutest thing going. All the girls do!”