"Well, little girl," he smiled, "getting 'round your old dad just as you always do," and he kissed her.
"Of course!" she laughed. "That's what dads are for."
Even Miss Hershey's meticulously exact explanation, at dinner, of how the lists of guests for the engagement dinner and dance had been selected, together with much family history of the individuals, could not drive away the fit of depression the afternoon had brought me. I had really never thought of the future as something to be approached with dread and suspicion; it had always seemed sufficient to blunder into it gaily and unquestioningly. I had never doubted it could be other than pleasant. Forethought could always prevent tragedies.... Could it? If one knew what tragedy to expect—yes; how if there were tragedies that crept upon one unawares? What was it the Bible said about "a thief in the night"? It was the old peril of too much happiness. The whole world was enthralled to this superstition and called its childish fears "commonsense precaution." With this fairly satisfactory and optimistic solution I finally went to bed.
A week before the dinner dance Mrs. Claybourne returned, quite limp from her journey in a Pullman and the onward rush of events at home. She felt utterly discouraged, she said, at the hopelessness of it all, and the general lack of consideration. Helen and I were made to feel like criminals detected in the midst of some clandestine crime. Helen had to have a new evening gown and an afternoon dress; she ought really to have a new set of furs, but that was out of the question, because of the terrible expense of the dance. Miss Hershey clicked and oozed sympathy from the background. Mr. Claybourne put a stop to his wife's beating of her breast by ordering Helen and her mother to New York to get everything needed.
"You can send the bills to me, and I'll do the worrying up at the office," he finished.
"I think I'll go along and do my shopping in New York, too," I put in, without pausing to think. This produced a renewed outburst. It wasn't proper, was the sum and substance.
"I've got something important to do in New York," I contended stubbornly. "Helen has to have an engagement ring."
Helen and her father took my part. It was better, he thought, for some one to go along who could look after the party and keep Helen amused. Helen simply remarked that the idea I was not to go was preposterous. Besides, the change would do me good. I would come back refreshed and ready to resume work. Mrs. Claybourne yielded, after first fleeing to her room in tears. It was settled I was to go along.