He frowned at this. “I couldn’t think of it, dear,” he replied. “I’ve got my practise to keep up and the business in West Virginia to look after. I shouldn’t care to live on you, you know.” He smiled, and, coming over to her, patted her head affectionately. “It’s very good of you, Edith, to want me with you, and I should enjoy it more than I can tell you, but I couldn’t give up my work, my independence. You wouldn’t respect me if I did.”
She did not attempt to argue the question with him. Perhaps in her heart she felt that he was right. “Mother is coming up to-morrow morning,” she said. “I think I’ll try New London. I was there one summer for a month when father was alive, and I have never forgotten how lovely it was. Mother knows all about it. We’ll run up there to-morrow and see what we can find.”
Led by Mrs. Pope, the expedition in search of a cottage by the sea was an unqualified success. Edith had had in mind a small bungalow—a tiny house with a view of the water, but Mrs. Pope was burdened with no such plebeian ideas. To her money-loving mind a cottage such as befitted her daughter’s newly acquired wealth consisted of a picturesque mansion of some eighteen or twenty rooms, with a private bathing beach, extensive grounds, garage, stables, and a retinue of servants.
She had some little difficulty in finding what she wanted. Edith remonstrated with her continually but she was not to be balked. She told the real-estate agent to whom they had gone on their arrival that her daughter was prepared to pay as high as five hundred dollars a month, for the proper accommodations, furnished, and she refused quite definitely to consider anything that did not front on the water.
There were but three places answering her description that were available. The first Edith thought perfect, but her mother dismissed it at once. “Quite too small, my dear,” she remarked, with up-turned nose. “And I never could endure a house with no conservatory.”
The second place had a conservatory, it seemed, but Mrs. Pope found the plumbing antiquated, the number of bathrooms insufficient, and the furnishings not at all to her taste.
“We shall entertain a great deal,” she informed the overpowered real-estate man, who was mentally trying to adapt Mrs. Pope’s extravagant ideas to her anything but extravagant clothes. Edith wondered whom they were going to entertain, but forebore asking her mother at this time.
The third place withstood even Mrs. Pope’s attempts at criticism, and Edith fell in love with it at once. It was not quite so large as they had wanted, her mother remarked, but it might do. Edith was very sure that it would do. The house, a long, low, shingled affair, with many timbered gables, was partly overgrown with ivy. Climbing roses, in full bloom, embowered the wide verandas. The gardens were filled with handsome shrubbery and well-kept flower beds. There was a stable, a greenhouse, and a little boathouse and wharf. The lawns were immaculate, the furnishings within artistic and costly. The agent explained that Mr. Sheridan, the banker, who owned the house, had left unexpectedly for Europe the week before, and the place had just been placed on the market. Mr. Sheridan had intended to occupy it himself until the last moment, but his wife had been taken ill, and was obliged to go to one of the Continental baths to be cured. The price was two thousand dollars for the season, and would have been a great deal more had the place been put on the market a month earlier. Two parties had looked at it already, and it was not likely to remain unoccupied very long.
“We’ll take it,” said Mrs. Pope promptly. “We’ll move in on Monday.” She began to plan aloud the disposition of the various bedrooms.
Mr. Hull, the agent, on the way to town, suggested the necessity of executing a lease and making a deposit to bind the bargain. “My daughter will give you a check for the first month’s rent in advance,” said Mrs. Pope loftily. “You have your check-book with you, my dear, I hope?”