But Mrs. Ware had still another reason to be pleased that Jeff Delavan was to be a member of their household for several days and under such conditions. She warmly hoped and therefore almost believed that Rhoda’s determination would go down under the persuasive influence of daily association with her lover. The girl was a good nurse. She had considerable knowledge, acquired from her father, of what ought to be done in a sick-room and she was one of those people with a native knack for making an invalid comfortable. Therefore, Mrs. Ware argued, it would be her duty to take main charge of their bedridden guest, and Rhoda would do it if she could be made to see that it was her duty.
There was nothing so sure to soften a girl’s heart, she told herself, as seeing a strong man dependent upon her care. And this combined with Jeff’s masterful love-making and the pleadings of her own heart—could there be a better combination? Truly, it was almost providential, Jeff’s being upon that boat.
She began at once to plan the household matters so that Rhoda would be free to devote the greater part of each day to the sick-room. She decided also that it was most necessary for the patient to be kept quiet, to be undisturbed by much going in and out of his room, and that therefore Charlotte, at least for several days, should not be admitted.
Charlotte keenly resented this order. She felt it to be most unfair that she, who would undoubtedly be to any young man the most entertaining member of the family, should be barred from a room so full of romantic interest as this, in which lay a good-looking young gentleman, who had barely been rescued from a tragic death but who doubtless would still be capable of good judgment in the matter of feminine attractions. When Rhoda found her at the piano practising “The Last Rose of Summer” in the late afternoon of that first day she was looking very glum.
“What’s the matter, sister?” Rhoda queried.
“Nothing,” Charlotte answered shortly.
“Really? I’d never think it!” Rhoda smiled at her, sitting down with a lapful of stockings to be sorted into goats-to-be-mended and sheep-not-to-be-mended. “If I were going to guess, I’d say you were sleepy and needed to go to bed early. I heard you come in last night, and it was pretty late. You haven’t told me a word yet about the party. Did you have a good time?”
Charlotte laughed and tinkled some notes upon the piano keys. “Yes, indeed! I haven’t had such a perfectly lovely time in I don’t know when!”
“That’s good!” Rhoda smiled discreetly, her eyes upon her work. “And Billy—did he have a good time too?”
“Oh, Billy! Rhoda, you ought to have seen him! He was just furious! He looked as if he wouldn’t want to speak to me for a month. But he will!”