"Well, that's a tip-top interview," she declared. "I'm ever so much obliged to you and delighted to have met you. I don't think you look much like one's idea of the writer of that book. I think I will say that your eyes have a youthful look. It will please the women. Why don't you live somewhere else?"
"Don't know," I said again, with little candor.
"I had better put down that in this bit of old New York you find an outlook more in sympathy with your lovable and homely characters. Wisteria blooming in the backyard," she observed, rising and leaning out of the window. "Geraniums on the sills opposite and an old granny darning socks, her white-capped head bending over her work and framed by the scarlet of the flowers. Neat little touch. Hope you'll like my article. Look for it in the number for Sunday week. My murderer goes in day after to-morrow. He won't keep much longer, people have already stopped sending him flowers. Well, good-by and thank you."
I pressed the little hand she laughingly proffered, and she tripped out, meeting Frances in the hallway.
"Isn't that a duck of a baby!" she exclaimed, smiling at the mother and running downstairs.
"Frances, I am famous," I said. "Sunday after next I'll be in the Banner, three times the size of life, in at least three columns. That chit of a girl who just went out is the celebrated Cordelia. She has interviewed me and written down a thousand beautiful things I never said. She's a bright little creature."
"She wears nice hats," commented Frances. "I hope she will do justice to you. It is time we went down to lunch, if we are to catch that train. Is your suitcase packed?"
"Never thought of it!" I exclaimed. "You go right down and begin. I'll follow in a moment."
A half an hour later we were in a taxicab, speeding to the station. Eulalie was with us; I had insisted on her being brought along. How could Frances obtain the full rest she needed, unless some of the details of existence were attended to for her? She had objected strenuously and even threatened to unpack her little trunk and remain in New York, but I successfully bullied her into acceptance by commenting on the alleged peaked look of Baby Paul. Maternal fears, despite the infant's appearance of excellent health, prevailed at last. A man, I discover, needs a firm hand in dealing with the opposite sex.
My dear sister had indicated to me a small farm near the lake, where three rooms were to be rented. According to her the cows gave absolutely genuine milk and butter, while the hens laid undeniable eggs. Vegetables grew in profusion, the post office was but a half-mile away and the railway station within twenty minutes' walk. Privacy was also insured by the fact that the big hotel and boarding houses were reasonably far away. Mrs. Gobbins, who bossed the farm and its lord and master, was exceedingly particular as to the occupants of her spare rooms, requiring on their parts qualifications, which appeared to range between the Christian virtues and appetites that would not crave too strongly for city fleshpots.