“Paul wants to take me to see his sister to-morrow afternoon,” she said, “and I’m going! There’ll be a row—because Gilbert said he’d have to have his dinner at six, and he’s not going to get it. I’m not even going to try to get home by six. He can tell Bill about Paul if he wants. I don’t care. It’s got to happen some day.”
“Margie, I’ll get Gilbert’s dinner for him to-morrow.”
“You?” said Margie.
“I’d like to. And you can enjoy your afternoon with an easy mind. I’ll get Gilbert’s supper, and—Margie—bring Paul back with you, and I’ll have something nice ready for you both.”
VI
Rose had left a lamp burning in her own sitting room, as a beacon for Nina, and all the time she was busy in the Morgan’s kitchen, she was listening for that footstep. And for all her pleasure and excitement in this surprise she had prepared for the Morgans, a vague anxiety lay in the back of her mind, because Nina was so long in coming. She had expected her for lunch, and the whole afternoon had gone by without her.
She wished Nina could have seen Margie set out, in that Paris dress—the loveliest, happiest creature! And she wished Nina were here now, to lend her moral support in this wildly audacious plan, for, now that the thing was done, she felt a little frightened. Margie and Gilbert were little more than children; she could manage them; she could really help them.[Pg 394]
But it seemed to her that the shadow of Bill lay over the house; he himself might be hundreds of miles away, but she couldn’t forget that this was his house, and that she was defying him. The thought caused her an odd sort of pain; you might dislike Bill, she thought, and vigorously resent his domineering ways, but it was impossible not to respect him.
It was even impossible not to like him just a little when you thought how honestly he tried to take care of his unruly household, and when you remembered all those little kindnesses. Well, the sensible thing was, not to remember.
She had a natural talent for cooking, and with the aid of a cookbook, she had managed an excellent dinner. That part of the plan caused her no worry. But the rest—She opened the oven door for one more look at the pair of chickens sizzling richly in there, and then with a sigh, went again to the dining room door.