Celia, her eyes shining, her lips quivering with suppressed excitement, took the receiver.
“Oh, Jeff dear, it’s good to hear your voice,” she said. “Is everything all right? Yes, I’ve been having a perfectly beautiful time, and I’ve something fine to tell you. All those nice things you said to me just before you got off the train are true. Yes, he’s just as nice as you said, and a great deal nicer besides. Oh, yes, I’m very happy, and I want to speak to Mamma please. Jeff, is she all right? Is she perfectly well, and not fretting a bit? You know you promised to tell me. What’s that? She thought I looked sad? Well, I did but that’s all gone now. Everything is perfectly beautiful. Tell mother to come to the ’phone please—I want to make her understand.”
“I’m going to tell her, dear,” she whispered, looking up at Gordon. “I’m afraid George will get there before we do and make her worry.”
For answer he stooped and kissed her, his arm encircling her and drawing her close. “Whatever you think best, dearest,” he whispered back.
“Is that you, Mamma?” With a happy smile she turned back to the ’phone. “Dear Mamma! Yes, I’m all safe and happy, and I’m so sorry you have worried. We won’t let you do it again. But listen; I’ve something to tell you, a surprise—Mamma, I did not marry George Hayne at all. No, I say I did not marry George Hayne at all. George Hayne is a wicked man. I can’t tell you about it over the ’phone but that was why I looked sad. Yes, I was married all right, but not to George. He’s oh, so different, Mother you can’t think. He’s right here beside me now, and Mother, he is just as dear—you’d be very happy about him if you could see him. What did you say? Didn’t I mean to marry George? Why Mother, I never wanted to. I was awfully unhappy about it, and I knew I made you feel so too, though I tried not to. But I’ll explain all about it. You’ll be perfectly satisfied when you know all about it.... No, there’s nothing whatever for you to worry about. Everything is right now and life looks more beautiful to me than it ever did before. What’s his name? Oh;” she looked up at Gordon with a funny little expression of dismay. She had forgotten and he whispered it in her ear.
“Cyril—”
“It’s Cyril, Mother! Isn’t that a pretty name? Which name? Oh, the first name of course. The last name?”
“Gordon—” he supplied in her ear again.
“Cyril Gordon, Mother,” she said, giggling in spite of herself at her strange predicament.... “Yes, Mother. I am very, very happy. I couldn’t be happier unless I had you and Jeff, too, and”—she paused, hesitating at the unaccustomed name—“and Cyril says we’re coming to visit you to-morrow. We’ll come up and see you and explain everything. And you’re not to worry about George Hayne if he comes. Just let Jeff put him off by telling him you have sent for me, or something of the sort, and don’t pay any attention to what he says. What? You say he did come? How strange—and he hasn’t been back? I’m so thankful. He is dreadful. Oh, Mother, you don’t know what I’ve escaped! And Cyril is good and dear. What? You want to speak to him? All right. He’s right here. Good-by, Mother, dear, till to-morrow. And you’ll promise not to worry about anything? All right. Here is—Cyril.”
Gordon took the receiver.