She had heard from Marjorie of the recent agreeable change in Leslie Cairns. Marjorie had felt it only fair to Leslie to acquaint Miss Susanna with that change. The old lady now divined that Peter Carden had come to the Arms on a friendly errand. Her quick brain had instantly arrived at the truth as she glanced from Leslie to Peter Carden. Leslie was his daughter. Followed immediately the recollection of the financier’s altered name.
“So you changed your name to Cairns, and this is your daughter,” she continued with abruptness. In her astonishment she momentarily forgot to make introductions.
“Yes.” Peter Cairns showed admiration of the intrepid little woman who had successfully fought off his bullying father and a college board largely composed of rascals. His keen eyes registered an expression of deference which he seldom accorded either men or women. “This is my daughter, Leslie, Miss Susanna.” He drew Leslie gently forward. “She came to meet you and to see Miss Dean. I came to see you.”
“I’m glad you have. I might not have said that years ago, but I can say it now.” Miss Susanna introduced Peter Cairns and Leslie to Mrs. Dean, and the financier to Marjorie. The latter and Leslie had already exchanged friendly salutations.
Marjorie thought she had never before seen Leslie look so well. Beauty, even prettiness of the regulation type she would never have. There was a new expression of light and animation on her face, however, which made her what her father had often called her as a child: “his ugly beauty.” The loose, unprepossessing droop to her mouth which Marjorie had formerly most disliked in her features was gone. A half humorous little quirk had taken the place of the ugly droop. It brightened her face wonderfully. Always of extremely symmetrical figure she was at her best today in a pale blue broadcloth dress. The softening grace of a wide summer fur draped her shoulders. Every detail of her apparently simple toilet had been carefully chosen. Leslie was a model of smart attiring.
“I don’t feel much older than when I was Peter Harum-scarum, as John used to call me,” smiled the financier. “I have had many a good and many a bad time at the Hedge. It has been mine for two years. I bought it from John. I am glad old Alec died. A hard thing to say of one’s own father, perhaps. He had a hard hand, and a hard nature. I was glad to hear that you fought things to a finish with him.”
“You may say what you please to me about Alec Carden, Peter. I know it will be the truth. I dislike to hear a man who was detested by his children while he lived hypocritically mourned by them after Providence has mercifully removed him from their midst,” Miss Hamilton declared with candid relish. “Come up to the house and have luncheon with us. I hear you are a king of finance. Your history after you ran away from home must be interesting. You weren’t more than twenty-four when you went, were you?”
“Twenty-five.” Peter Cairns laughed, a short bitter sound. “Thank you for the invitation, Miss Hamilton. Some other day we’ll accept with pleasure. We have a business engagement today with a man named Peter Graham.” He and Leslie looked at each other and laughed.
Her glance toward him was a vivid brightening of feature which Marjorie thought beautiful. “Won’t you come over and sit down under the big tulip tree?” she invited winningly. “We have been sitting there in the sunshine loving the spring outdoors.”
“Yes, do. Peter, go and bring that seat over here under the tulip tree with the other,” directed Miss Susanna pointing out a nearby rustic seat.