Vicki went to the Bryants’ house not knowing quite what to expect. It was Friday the thirteenth, but since she was not foolish enough to be superstitious, the date alone did not account for her sense of something special about to happen.
“Well, I can expect lunch and conversation,” Vicki thought, and went up the white marble steps of the Bryants’ house. She was a little intimidated by its grandeur, and by the butler who admitted her. “My goodness, this is much too grand for me,” Vicki thought. “They must be awfully rich.”
The butler said, “Who shall I say is calling?”
“Miss Victoria Barr.” Vicki tried to stand up taller than she was and look older. It never worked.
“Oh, yes, Miss Barr, you are expected.”
She gave the butler her coat and followed him from the entrance hall, past a formal high-ceilinged living room, and into a big, sunny sitting room. It was cheerful in here, with flowered chintzes, green plants, and several extraordinarily beautiful parakeets in cages shaped like pagodas and dollhouses. Vicki exclaimed aloud “Oh! Lovely!”—without meaning to, just as the butler announced her.
Mrs. Bryant was sitting half hidden in an immense wing chair. She put aside the needlepoint she was working on and made a point of getting up to greet her young guest.
“How nice to see you again, Miss Barr. You were so busy yesterday on your plane that there was almost no chance to visit with you.”
“I kept you busy, for one thing,” Mr. Bryant said. “A tiresome old codger, wasn’t I, young lady?”
Vicki smiled shyly, and said Mr. and Mrs. Bryant were kind to let her come. She asked Mr. Bryant how he was feeling.