“Isn’t he bossy?” from Della.
“Yes, dear, take her up to your own room. It’s ready for you.”
A little-boy, lonesome look came into Walter’s face for a moment. Then he turned to Della and took her out of the room. Mrs. Warner looked at her husband and then at Cecily.
“Did you say I was to be a model for her?” asked Cecily, with her new grimness. “For her? Why, the girl scorns me.”
“She’s certainly going to make Walter stand around,” said Mr. Warner, with a feeble attempt at jocularity. Then, at the sight of the tears in his wife’s eyes he was beside her in an instant. “She’s not so bad,” he declared. “Lots of energy and nerve in that small person.”
Lots of energy and lots of nerve there were. In the succeeding weeks they all found out how much. Della, twirling on her finger the platinum and diamond symbol that she was a Warner, knew how to have a good time and how to get what she wanted. She was fond of Walter in her under-bred little way. Though she scolded at him, she was always willing to have him exhibit his affection in public, and in automobiles and theatres would curl into his arms in a way that was unceasingly embarrassing to the people with her.
Cecily, who had planned on winning her confidence, soon found that confidence a thing to dread. Della’s easy, careless tongue ran away with itself on most occasions. She wanted to tell Cecily intimate things that Cecily could not bring herself to listen to. And when Cecily, trying to impart an ideal or a vision, half opened her mind to Della, she found her visions ignored or criticized.
“Cute kids, aren’t they?” commented Della. “But whatever do you do with so many? It’s wonderful how you’ve kept your figure, though.”
That ended that lesson.
Dick was amused. He laughed above Cecily’s constant dismay.