There was just one woman like that mother to whom the old gentleman referred. Barnes caught his breath at thought of it.
“I suppose there is another,” murmured Mr. Van Patten. “For someone, Eleanor is going to be just such another.”
“Yes,” said Barnes. “I think she’s that one other.”
Mr. Van Patten moved uneasily.
“It’s easier to think of your marrying than of Eleanor marrying,” he said. “But I suppose she will. Have you seen much of Carl?”
Barnes jumped at the question.
“Why, yes,” he answered, “I’ve—I’ve seen a good deal of him lately.”
“I’m glad of that, Joe. Eleanor has been thrown in with him nearly every day this summer. What sort of a man does he appear—to a man?”
“But you’ve talked with him yourself, haven’t you?”
“Not much. I haven’t felt like seeing anyone. Aunt Philomela likes him. Do you?”