The arrival of Mrs. Marshall was almost sensational. The Careys marched alongside the “carriage” to the horse block and Major Carey like a cavalier assisted his guests to light. Mrs. Carey kissed her girlhood friend, and Major Cary saluted her with a profound bow, but for Mrs. Bradner there was but a light grasp of the hand. The former Miss Carey had married a man whom no one knew, a bank clerk from the West with no other recommendation than his sobriety and industry.
To Morey the call was wearisome in the extreme. He reported on his school experiences, carefully omitting his aeronautical studies, and his mother exchanged with Mrs. Carey old-fashioned, stilted gossip concerning their homes and servants. Mrs. Bradner, in a beautifully made tailor gown, sat quietly by. When Morey saw how cheap his mother’s dress appeared in comparison with Mrs. Bradner’s, the thoughts that had troubled him all day came back again.
Then there were refreshments and the formality relaxed somewhat.
“Major Carey,” said Mrs. Marshall suddenly, “I really wish you would talk to Morey. I’m afraid the boy has got some queer ideas in Richmond. However,” and she smiled kindly toward the somewhat embarrassed Morey, “perhaps it is unnecessary now. He has promised me to forget them.”
Major Carey smiled graciously.
“Well, boys will be boys, I’m afraid,” he began. “But just what form of—well sir, what are you up to now?” he asked, turning to Morey.
The boy’s embarrassment increased.
“Mother thinks I’m a farmer,” he said with an attempt at a smile. “I can’t agree with her.”
“But,” interrupted Mrs. Marshall graciously, “perhaps we ought not bother our friends with these family details. Especially since Morey now sees that he was wrong. He has agreed with me to finish the full course at his present school, to take a university training and then become one of us again.”