“Yes, dear. Think of that”; and she came close and kissed the pink cheek tenderly.
Then Harry came whistling from the bathroom, and shot upstairs, leaving a pleasant odor of scented soap and steam behind him; and the two on the bed knew it was time to rise and get to work; for the last round was on in the game, and there was no time to idle.
CHAPTER XVII
Carey came in at a quarter to six, a most unwonted thing for him to do, even though he had been implored to do so by both sisters; and a great anxiety rolled from their minds as he went whistling merrily up the stairs and was heard splashing around in the bathroom. He had not been allowed to go into the dining-room. Louise had met him at the front door, showed him the glories of her new dress, and piloted him straight to the upper floor; but the general gala atmosphere of the house and the breath of the roses in the living room gave him the sense of festivity. He had not yet recovered from his boyish pleasure of the morning gifts and the unwonted tenderness of his father. He had the air of intending to do his part toward making this evening a pleasant one. As he went about an elaborate toilet, he resolved not to go out at all, but to stay at home the whole evening and try to make himself agreeable to his family, who were going to so much trouble for him. This virtuous resolve gave an exalted ring to the jazzy tune he whistled above the sound of the running water, and also served to hide from his ears numerous sounds below stairs.
Grace Kendall arrived and slipped into the kitchen; donned a big apron, and did efficient service arranging the lettuce leaves on the salad plates and turning out the pretty quivering jelly on them. Louise was posted at the front window with wildly throbbing heart and earnest little face, awaiting the guest of anxiety, afraid she would come before Carey got out of the bathroom and safely up into his room, afraid and half hoping she wouldn’t come at all, after all—and yet! Oh! There she was coming right in the gate! Suddenly Louise’s feet grew heavy, and for one awful second she knew she couldn’t walk to the front door and open it. And Carey—yes Carey was unlocking the bathroom door. He was going upstairs. Strength returned to her unwilling feet, and she sped to the door, and found herself opening it and bowing pleasantly to the overdressed and somewhat embarrassed young woman standing on the steps. Suddenly the sweetness and simplicity of the little pink organdie her sister had made for her enveloped all Louise’s shyness and anxiety, and she felt quite able to carry off the situation.
“Come right in,” she said sweetly with a tone of real welcome.
Clytie stepped in, and stared around curiously, almost furtively. It was evident she had not at all known to what sort of place she was coming and was startled, embarrassed. She was dressed in a vivid turquoise-blue taffeta evening frock composed of myriads of tiny ruffles, a bit of a girdle, and silver shoulder straps, the whole being much abbreviated at both ends and but partially concealed under a flimsy evening coat of light tan. Her face had that ghastly coloring of too much powder and paint. Her hat was a strange creation of henna ostrich-feathers hanging out in a cascade behind and looking like a bushy head of red hair. Rings and bracelets glittered and tinkled against a cheap bead hand-bag, and her gauzy hosiery and showy footgear were entirely in keeping with the tout ensemble. But when she stepped into the beautiful living room with its flickering fire, its softly shaded lights, its breath of roses and harmony of color, she seemed somehow as much out of place as a potato-bug in a lady’s boudoir. Louise had a sudden feeling of compassion for her as the victim of a terrible joke, and she felt afraid of her no longer.
“Will you come upstairs and take off your hat?” she asked sweetly, and led the way up to her bedroom, where everything was in dainty order. A single rose in a tiny vase in front of the mirror under a pink-shaded candle-light set the keynote for the whole room.
Clytie stepped awesomely into the pretty room, and gazed about fearsomely, almost as if she suspected a trap somewhere, almost as if she felt herself an intruder, yet bold enough to see the experience through to the finish. It wasn’t in the least what she had expected of Carey, but it was interesting. She decided they were “highbrows” whatever that was. She took off the elaborate hat, and puffed out her hair, bobbed in the latest way and apparently electrified to make every hair separate from every other, in a whirl around her head, much like a dandelion gone to seed.
Louise watched her as she prinked a moment before the mirror, rubbing her small tilted nose with a bit of a dab from her hand-bag, touching her eyebrows and lips, and ruffling out her hair a little wilder than before. The little girl was glad that the guest said nothing. Now if she could only get her down into the living room before Carey suspected! Somehow she felt that it would not be well for Carey to know before he came downstairs that that girl was in the house. There was no knowing what Carey might do. So she led the silent guest downstairs, and remarked as they reached the safety of the landing, “It’s a pleasant evening.”