The telephone bell rang.
Miss Carter sat up, frowned a little, yawned, and went downstairs; and over the wire came the voice that was dearer to her than any other voice in the world.
“Auntie Sue, darling, would it bother you if I were to bring some one home for dinner?”
“Bother me?” cried Miss Carter. “Why, of course not, child! You can bring a dozen people, any time you’ve a mind to!”
“I just thought I’d ask Mr. Rhodes,” said Maude.
A very odd sort of feeling came over Miss Carter. She smiled graciously, as people do who wish to hide their emotions from the watchful telephone, and said:
“I’ll be very glad to see him, child.”
But this was not quite true. She had never heard of Mr. Rhodes before, yet she had been expecting him for five years, ever since Maude was eighteen. She had known that somebody was bound to come and take Maude away, and this was the man—she was sure of it! The way Maude said she would “ask Mr. Rhodes” was enough.
“Well, why not?” Miss Carter demanded sternly of herself. “You couldn’t expect a girl like Maude t-to s-stay—Pshaw, I’ve left my handkerchief upstairs!”
She went upstairs hastily, and lay down on the sofa again for a little while, but she did not go to sleep.