The great central white-and-gold door, to-day open, permitted a glimpse, as he started up the stairs, of a man on a step-ladder fitting tall wax-candles into one of the 109great chandeliers. From unseen quarters floated Estelle’s voice, saying, “Ploo bah! Nong, ploo hoe!”
Mrs. Hawthorne met him at the head of the stairs. The slight disorder of her hair, usually so tidy, pointed to unusual exertions on her part, also. Her face was flushed with excitement and, to judge by her wreathing smiles, with happiness.
“I saw you coming,” she greeted him. “Riverisco! Beata Lei! Mamma mia!And do you know how I saw you? Come here.”
She led the way to the back, where the window-door stood open on to the roof of the portico, which formed a terrace.
“See? I’ve had it glassed in for to-morrow night. We couldn’t say we hadn’t plenty of rooms before, and plenty of room in them. That’s just the trouble: there aren’t any nooks in this big, square house. So I’ve made one. This is Flirtation Alcove. Here a loving couple can come to cool off after dancing and look up at the stars together. Oh, it’s going to be so pretty! You can’t tell anything about it as it looks now; I’ve only got these few things in it. But the gardeners are going to bring all sorts of tall plants and flowers in pots. Just wait till to-morrow night!”
“You are very busy, I am afraid, Mrs. Hawthorne. I ought not to take your time.”
“Can’t you sit down a minute?”
“I have come to ask a favor.”
“I guess I can say it’s granted even before you ask.”
“I should like to retract my refusal of your very kind invitation for to-morrow evening. I have explained to you my weak avoidance of crowds. I have determined to 110overcome it in this case, and I want your permission to bring a friend.”