“I’ve thought of him as a mere talking machine instead of a human being,” she said to herself reproachfully. “I must make a salmon scallop for Father’s supper. Inga doesn’t know how to do anything but scramble eggs and boil potatoes, and Father’s tired, I know by his voice. It sounded tired, but Algernon’s was lonely. I wonder–”
Dr. Harlow Smith and his wife, Dr. Helen, drove up to their pretty gabled house on the hill slope a few minutes later, their faces lighting with pleasure 11 as the tall girl in a blue apron came out to meet them. The stable-boy came to take the horse, and Catherine escorted her parents to the house. While they made themselves ready for supper, she put the last orderly touches to the table in the panelled dining-room, and was ready for them with kisses when they arrived.
The silent grace over, Catherine spoke:
“Eat and be filled, dearly beloved, because I have a new project and I need you to be enthusiastic.”
“What is it this time?” asked Dr. Harlow, serving the golden scallop generously. “You have shown diplomacy in your choice of a dish, if I am the one you wish to wheedle.”
Dr. Helen, pouring yellow cream from a fat silver jug into thin hexagonal cups, sent an interested glance across the table at her daughter.
“Tell us,” she said.
“It’s quite new,” said Catherine, hesitating a little. “In fact it’s not a half-hour old, but I do believe it is a good plan. You know Algernon Swinburne?”
“We have met him,” agreed Dr. Harlow cautiously.
“So had I!” said Catherine with sudden spirit, “and this afternoon it came to me that I didn’t know him at all. All any of us ever do to Algernon is to avoid him,–those of us who don’t laugh at him. And he’s lonely, Father! Lonely!”