“What are you going to do about it?” Leslie inquired with rueful curiosity. “He’s in New York. I saw him last night in front of the Luxe-Garins. Don’t think he saw me. I was in a taxi. Goldie and I had been there to dinner.”
“You shouldn’t have gone there—just you two young girls!” cried out the chaperon despairingly.
“Oh, stuff. I’m not a minor. Think the Luxe-Garins is a jungle full of black-whiskered lions and unicorns? We didn’t dance, or speak to a soul. We only had eats. That’s not a social blunder, is it?”
“No-o-o.” There was a certain amount of relief in the reply. “I shall do nothing, Leslie. Your father has ordered me to come here to look after you. I am here. I thought before I came I would write him and explain why we were not together. I could find no proper explanation. I dare say he is very angry with me.” Mrs. Gaylord’s tone grew rather plaintive. “As your chaperon I should insist on your compliance with strict convention at all times. But it is as you say. You are not a minor, you have the right to go where you please and do as you please. Since your father has—well—has—.” The chaperon halted lamely.
“Cut me off his card index,” supplied Leslie with forceful moroseness.
Both chaperon and charge had spoken louder than they were aware. In the next room the last few sentences of their talk had come clearly to Doris’s ears. While she was not specially curious she could not help being impressed by what she heard.
“If I had been like some of the girls I’ve known I’d not have engaged a chaperon at all after he turned me down,” Leslie defended darkly. “I’m supposed not to know he has ever showed a spark of interest in me since he cut me out of his life. Don’t you let him call you down because I told you to visit your head off if you liked among your friends while I was at Hamilton. You may tell him I hired you and chased you away from me when I felt like being alone for a while. He owes you a debt of gratitude for telling me that he didn’t quite efface himself from my map. Tell him,” she snickered faintly, “that I pay you a salary for acting as a friend instead of a priggish frump. Tell him he ought to double your salary from his end of the deal for the same reason.”
“Why—Leslie!” Grateful amazement this time prompted the chaperon’s exclamation. “I had no idea you felt that way about me.”
“I had no idea myself,” Leslie retorted. She cast a half sheepish glance toward Mrs. Gaylord. She was experiencing the peculiar sensation of physical glow which invariably attends the moral defense of another person. For the first time in her wayward career she felt moved to defend someone for whose offense she was strictly to blame.