Laura and Lucile had arrived exactly on time and immediately the feast began. There was so much hilarity that the cleaning and dyeing establishment below began to wonder what manner of industry was to be conducted above them and some of the roomers on the third floor crept down and peeped in the door to see what all the fun was about.
In the midst of the luncheon, Mrs. Markle came tripping up the steps.
“Oh, please excuse me, I had no idea of interrupting a party,” she said. “I merely wanted to see Mary Louise for a moment and went by her home and was sent here by her darling old colored butler.”
“Oh, but you are not interrupting, Hortense,” declared Mary Louise, drawing her new friend into the room and introducing her to Josie and some of the young men with whom she was not acquainted. She knew most of the persons seated around the packing boxes.
“You must sit down and have some lunch,” said Josie hospitably. She looked keenly at the new arrival and evidently what she saw pleased her, as she smiled engagingly, making room for Hortense at her own right hand.
Indeed it would have been a critical person who would not have conceded that Hortense Markle was a delightful picture on that pleasant Saturday in May. Her gown was, as usual, exquisite. It was mauve and of soft material that clung to her shapely form. Her hat, a small toque, was formed of orchids and her one ornament was a brooch of wonderful workmanship. It was an orchid of rare beauty made of gold and enamel with a large diamond shining like a dew drop from its centre.
She took her seat, remarking as she did so that, since she had run in on them, she felt sure she would make less disturbance by sitting down than by making all the male guests stand while she transacted her business with Mary Louise.
“She is a lady of discrimination,” declared Billy McGraw to Elizabeth, by whom he had found a seat. “I know you think I am insatiable, but please take another sandwich and make out it is for yourself and then slip it to me. It is working in the factory that makes me so hungry. Sometimes I get empty enough to chew a rubber tire.”
“What a pretty woman!” said Bob Dulaney to Irene, by whose side he had found a seat and to whom he had been talking steadily during the gay luncheon.
“Yes, she is lovely,” said Irene, hoping devoutly her tone of voice was not divulging the feeling of something akin to hate that she could not help nursing for the dainty little newcomer, but, try her best, she could not put into her answer the enthusiasm that she wished to. Bob looked at his companion keenly.