"Yes, Sophy, certainly. Is Mrs. Townsend's headache better this morning?"
"It's very bad, Mrs. Murray. And she's that upset about the luncheon she's giving. Cook's taken sick, too--the bad luck!"
"Since breakfast, Sophy?"
"'T was Norah and Mary served breakfast. Cook but got out of bed and went back. Mr. Townsend bade me send for the doctor. He says she 'll not leave her bed again the day. And Mrs. Townsend says the luncheon must go on, and not a bit of outside help to be had at this short notice."
Jane hurried down the hall, Sophy's laments in her ears. She found Olive sitting on the foot of her mother's bed talking perturbedly with the elder woman, in the effort to dissuade her from the purpose of attempting to entertain any guests whatever in the circumstances. But it became evident to Jane at once that Mrs. Townsend was not to be dissuaded.
"There must be somebody to be had," she asserted, as Jane drew up a chair, after laying a cool hand on the aching forehead and expressing her sympathy with the headache. "It can't be possible that Lemare could n't send me somebody if he understood the necessity--or Perceval. We don't need much done. Cook had all the preliminary baking done yesterday. It's only to get everything together."
"But that's the whole of it, mother," Olive urged. "You may say it's only a simple luncheon, but Norah and Mary are certainly not equal to it. Is n't it excuse enough to send those women word that you 're ill? I 'll telephone--or write notes, if you prefer."
She rose as she spoke, but Mrs. Townsend waved an agitated hand, and shook her head violently. "You don't understand," she moaned, pressing her hand to her head and falling back among the pillows. "There are reasons why I can't have this thing fail. Mrs. Arlo Stevenson is a most difficult person to get for any affair whatever--and this is particularly in her honour. I could have had a caterer, of course, but I consider it not good form to put small entertaining into any hands but one's cook's. I am indebted to Mrs. Wister very deeply, and she is bringing a guest whom she is very anxious to have meet Mrs. Stevenson. There are other reasons----"
"But, mother"--Olive's tone was growing impatient--"what can't be, can't be. We can't get any one."
"Perhaps I could do it," Jane began, with some hesitation. "If it's really a simple luncheon----"