“There,” she smiled pleasantly. “I’m ready now to talk business, Mr. Smith.”
And she talked business. She stated plainly what she expected to do for her boarder, and what she expected her boarder would do for her. She enlarged upon the advantages and minimized the discomforts, with the aid of a word now and then from the eager and interested Benny.
Mr. Smith, on his part, had little to say. That that little was most satisfactory, however, was very evident; for Mrs. Blaisdell was soon quite glowing with pride and pleasure. Mr. Smith was not glowing. He was plainly ill at ease, and, at times, slightly abstracted. His eyes frequently sought the door which Mrs. Blaisdell had closed so firmly a short time before. They were still turned in that direction when suddenly the door opened and a young girl appeared.
She was a slim little girl with long-lashed, starlike eyes and a wild-rose flush in her cheeks. Beneath her trim hat her light brown hair waved softly over her ears, glinting into gold where the light struck it. She looked excited and pleased, yet not quite happy. She wore a blue dress, plainly made.
“Don’t stay late. Be in before ten, dear,” cautioned Mrs. Blaisdell. “And Mellicent, just a minute, dear. This is Mr. Smith. You might as well meet him now. He’s coming here to live—to board, you know. My daughter, Mr. Smith.”
Mr. Smith, already on his feet, bowed and murmured a conventional something. From the starlike eyes he received a fleeting glance that made him suddenly conscious of his fifty years and the bald spot on the top of his head. Then the girl was gone, and her mother was speaking again.
“She’s going auto-riding—Mellicent is—with a young man, Carl Pennock—one of the nicest in town. There are four others in the party. They’re going down to the Lake for cake and ice cream, and they’re all nice young people, else I shouldn’t let her go, of course. She’s eighteen, for all she’s so small. She favors my mother in looks, but she’s got the Blaisdell nose, though. Oh, and ’twas the Blaisdells you said you were writing a book about, wasn’t it? You don’t mean our Blaisdells, right here in Hillerton?”
“I mean all Blaisdells, wherever I find them,” smiled Mr. Smith.
“Dear me! What, us? You mean we’ll be in the book?” Now that the matter of board had been satisfactorily settled, Mrs. Blaisdell apparently dared to show some interest in the book.
“Certainly.”