The conversation changed, then lagged, and by the time Nina’s home was reached both women were silent, Nina because she was bored, Nellie because she was thinking.
“Good-by, dear,” laughed Nina, as she got down at her door. “Don’t be surprised at anything you hear. I’m quite desperate, so desperate that I may even take your advice. You’ll see me off at the pier, won’t you?”
Nellie Pennington nodded. She was quite sure that it was better for everybody that Miss Jaffray should be upon the other side of the water.
The week following, quite by chance she met Henry K. Loring one afternoon in the gallery at the Metropolitan where the ceramics were. An emissary from the office was opening the cases for him and with rare delight he was examining their contents with a pocket glass. She watched him for a while and when the great man relinquished the last piece of Lang-Yao sang de bœuf and the case was closed and locked, she intercepted him and led him off to a bench in a quiet corner where she laid before him the result of a week of deliberation. He had begun by being bored, for there was a case of the tea-dust glazes which he had still planned to look over, but in a moment he had warmed to her proposals and was discussing them with animation.
Yes, he had already planned to go to the Canadian woods again this summer. Mrs. Loring wanted to go abroad this year. Mrs. Loring didn’t like the woods unless he rented a permanent camp, the kind of place that he and Jane despised. The plan had been discussed and Jane had expressed a willingness to go. But at Mrs. Loring’s opposition the matter had been dropped. But Loring had not given up the idea. It would do Jane a lot of good, he admitted. Mrs. Pennington’s was a great plan, a brave plan, a beautiful plan, one that did credit to her sympathies and one that must in the end be successful. He would manage it. He would take the matter up at once and arrange for the same guides and outfit he had had last year. Would Mr. and Mrs. Pennington come as his guests? Of course. Who else—Mr. Worthington and Colonel Broadhurst? But could Mr. Kenyon be relied upon to do his share? Very well. He would leave that to Mrs. Pennington.
The next afternoon, at Mrs. Pennington’s request, John Kenyon called at her house in Stuyvesant Square, and his share in the arrangement was explained to him. He was willing to do anything for Phil Gallatin’s happiness that he could, of course, but it amused him to learn how the agreeable lady had taken that willingness for granted, and how she waved aside the difficulties which, as Kenyon suggested, might be encountered. Phil might have other plans. He could be obstinate at times. It might not be easy, either, to get Phil’s old guide for the pilgrimage. He needed a rest himself, and would go with Phil himself, if by doing so he could be of any assistance. It was now the first week in May. He would see Phil and report in a few days.
It was the next morning at the office when Kenyon broached the matter to his young partner. He was surprised that Phil fell in with the plan at once.
“Funny,” said Phil. “I was thinking of that yesterday. I am tired. The woods will do me a lot of good, but do you think that Hood can get along without us until August?”
“We’ll manage in some way. You deserve a rest, and I’m going to take one whether I deserve it or not. Could you get that guide you had last year, what’s his name—Joe——?”
“Keegón. I could try. We’d need two, but Joe can get another man. I have the address. I’ll write to-day.”