“He came home very much fussed not to find us at home, and I suppose Margaret imagined that something serious had happened. It’s nothing at all. Here, you can read the letter.”
“Paris!” said Julia, when she reached that point of information as she read her father’s good-by note.
“Well—how nice! If you do join him you will have a lovely time—a little honeymoon trip. Perhaps he will ask me to go, too—that would be lovely. How silly of Margaret to be so mysterious about it! Well, I’ll go and tidy for dinner.”
Mother and daughter were quite cheerful as they discussed the evening meal. At about nine o’clock there was a sound of electricity, and Julia lifted her head from her book.
“I believe that’s Harry and Maudie; it sounded like their brougham.”
Then there was a peal at the bell, and Julia ran out into the hall.
“Maudie, is it you?” she asked.
“Yes, we thought we would come out and see you. How’s mother?”
“Oh, all right. I thought you were going to a theatre?”