“Oh, she is more than middle-aged. She belongs to the dead and gone woman, who never did anything worth speaking of in her life.”
“You are vastly mistaken,” said Leslie, with spirit. “You would not say that if you knew her. My mother is a journalist, and makes a very good income with her work. I don’t think anyone could write a better leader than she, and as to her pars., they are quite the best the Grapho ever receives.”
“Does your mother write for the Grapho?”
“Yes, and for several other leading papers. She is on the staff of the Daily Post.”
“You astound me. She must be a well-informed woman.”
“She does know a few things,” said Leslie, trying to suppress a smile. “Now, please get into bed; for, if you are not tired, I am.”
“Well, just to please you, and as it is your first night. You are a nice creature. I saw that the moment you entered the room, and I am truly sorry I am your roomfellow, for I know I shall worry you terribly. I may as well tell you frankly that annoy you I shall, for I cannot possibly help myself. If I get mathematics on the brain I always go the whole length, and that means pacing the floor and mumbling problems to myself, sometimes for hours. As to tidiness, I have known myself to fling a book from one end of the room to the other in a fit of excitement. I only trust none of my books may hit you by mistake.”
“I echo that wish,” said Leslie; “but, as I have got a screen, I shall put it round my bed now that you have warned me. Please get into your own bed now, for I do not mean to sleep until I see you comfortable, and I am dead tired.”
Annie opened her red-brown eyes very slowly, and fixed them on Leslie’s face.
“To oblige you, I’ll do what you wish,” she said.