She was almost nervously anxious to get those gifts for Murray’s dear friend out of the house. She did not want even to tell her story to her anxious mother until the matter was all set right.
But Madame Grevet was not to be found. She must have a private phone. An appeal to the janitor of the shop brought no further help. He did not know her number, and anyhow, if she had one she would be out. She was always out when she was at home, he said.
Bessie, exhausted, finally gave it up.
“We’ll just have to let Murray know, mother, and I hate that. Won’t you call up?”
“No, I will not!” said Mrs. Chapparelle, crisply. “Let them wait for their things till the shop comes after them again. It’s not your fault that they insisted on bringing them here. We’re not responsible. If Murray hadn’t run away from you I might feel differently, but as it is, I think it is not necessary for either you or me to run after them. People who have dresses like that can exist for another night without one more.”
“But mother, he was very anxious to have them delivered tonight. I heard him tell the saleswoman.”
“That makes no difference, child, you are going to bed. I’ll tie those boxes up and take good care of them, and tomorrow I’ll telephone Grevet’s to come after their property, but you are not to worry another minute about them. Now, let me help you upstairs, and I’ll give you an arnica rub, and you may tell me very briefly how you came to be riding in Murray Van Rensselaer’s automobile. Then we’re going to thank the heavenly Father, and go to sleep. Now, come darling.”
XXI
But the morning brought no solution of the difficulty. Madame Grevet professed to be too busy to come to the telephone, and sent a snippy miss to negotiate.
Mrs. Chapparelle spoke to her gently, as a lady should, taking it as a matter of course that she would wish to set a mistake right. The girl was insolent, and when at last Mrs. Chapparelle’s continued protest brought the Madame to the telephone, things were even worse. The Madame declared that it was not for her to meddle in all Mr. Van Rensselaer’s many love affairs. The clothes were paid for and the money in the bank. Her responsibility was at an end. They would have to settle their lovers’ quarrels themselves. No, she could not on any consideration take back the things. She did not do business in that way. If they wanted money they must apply to Mr. Van Rensselaer himself for it, not to her. With which insult she hung up the receiver sharply.