"She wants, I mean. Old Jamie came halting up to me yesterday, and ventured to suggest his Mercy might be invited to the dancing-class Mrs. Bowdoin is having for the children."
"Whew!" said Mr. Bowdoin. "The old lady'll never stand it."
"Never in the world," said Mr. James.
"Upon my word, I don't know why not, though!"
"I'm afraid she does, though!"
"I'll ask her, anyhow. And, James, if I don't get to the office to-morrow, I'll write you her answer."
"And have me tell poor Jamie," laughed Mr. James.
"Well," said Mr. Bowdoin hastily, "you can say it's my letter—I'm late at the bank"—
The old gentleman hurried off; but his prediction proved well founded. Whether Mrs. Bowdoin had noticed the effect of pretty Mercedes upon young Harley, her grandson, or whether the claims of the pirate's daughter to social equality with the descendants of Salem privateersmen were to be negatived, she promptly replied that questions of social consideration rested with her alone. Mr. Bowdoin accepted the decision with no surprise; what pretty Miss Mercy said is unknown; but Jamie actually treated his employers for some weeks with an exaggerated deference in which there was almost a touch of sarcasm.
"Poor old Jamie!" said Mr. James to his father. "How he adores the child!"