"You will do nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Tresslyn sharply. "I am not doing this thing because I am kind-hearted, affectionate, or even remorseful. I shall do it because it pleases me, and not for the sake of pleasing any one else. Now we'll drop the subject. I do hope, however, that if George doesn't take the trouble to telephone me within a reasonable time after his child comes into the world—say within a day or two—I hope you will do so."
"Really, mother, you are a very wonderful person," said Anne, rather wide-eyed.
"No more wonderful, my dear, than Lutie Carnahan, if you will pause for a moment to think of what she did."
"She is very proud, and very happy," said Anne dubiously. "She and George may refuse to accept this—"
"My dear Anne," interrupted her mother calmly, "pray let me remind you that Lutie is no fool. And now, tell me something about your plans. Where are you going for the summer?"
"That depends entirely on where my nephew wants to spend the heated term," said Anne brightly. "I shall take him and Lutie into the country with me."
Mrs. Tresslyn winced. "It doesn't sound quite so terrible as grandson, at any rate," she remarked, considering the first sentence only.
"I do hope it will be a boy," mused Anne.
"I believe I could love her if she gave us a boy," said the other. "I am beginning to feel that we need more men in the family."
One of the last to drop in during the afternoon to welcome Anne back to the fold was the imposing and more or less redoubtable Mrs. Wintermill, head of the exclusive family to which Percy belonged. Percy's father was still alive but he was a business man, and as such he met his family as he would any other liability: when necessary.