She thought he would say Jo Barton, but instead he said, “Olga.”
“Olga?” she repeated doubtfully. “I’m not at all sure that she will come, but I’ll ask her. I’ll write a note now and send it to the place where she works.”
Jim gave a little happy skip. He ignored his lameness so absolutely that often Laura too almost forgot it. “I guess she’ll come,” he said in the singing voice he used when he was especially pleased.
Olga was just starting for home when the note reached her. She scowled as she read.
“Dear Olga: Jim wants you to come to supper with us—just with him and me—to-night at 6:30. I shall be very glad if you will, for, aside from the pleasure of having you with us, I want to talk over with you something that concerns Elizabeth. Please don’t fail us.
“Yours faithfully,
”Laura E. Haven.“
Olga read the note twice, her eyes lingering on the words “something that concerns Elizabeth.” But for those words she would have refused the invitation, but she had not seen Elizabeth for some time, and did not know whether she was sick or well. She did not want to go to supper with Miss Laura and Jim. Jim was well enough—her face softened a little as she thought of him, but she did not want to see him to-night. If there was something to be done for Elizabeth, however——Reluctantly she turned towards Wyoming Avenue.
Jim was watching for her at the window and ran to open the door before the servant could get there.
“I knew you’d come!” he crowed, flashing a smile up into her sombre face. “I told Miss Laura you would.”