Jimmie appeared in the evening, laden with violets and a five pound box of the chocolates most in favor in the politest circles at the moment. David whistled when he saw them.
“What’s devouring you, papa?” Jimmie asked him. “Don’t I always place tributes at the feet of the offspring?”
“Mirror candy and street corner violets, yes,” David said. “It’s only the labels that surprised me.”
“She knows the difference, now,” Jimmie answered, “what would you?”
The night before her return to school it was decreed that she should go to bed early. She had spent two busy days of shopping and “seeing the family.” She had her hours discussing her future with Peter, long visits and talks with Margaret and Gertrude, and a cup of tea at suffrage headquarters with Beulah, as well as long sessions in the shops accompanied by Mademoiselle, who made her home now permanently with David. She sat before the fire drowsily constructing pyramids out of the embers and David stood with one arm on the mantel, smoking his after-dinner cigar, and watching her. 214
“Is it to be college, Eleanor?” he asked her presently.
“I can’t seem to make up my mind, Uncle David.”
“Don’t you like the idea?”
“Yes, I’d love it,—if—”
“If what, daughter?”