Tavia was curious. The furnishings of the room were good, almost elaborate, but the carelessness of it all at first hid the good points. Surely Mrs. Bergham did not keep it up on her painting. Tavia judged that, by the long, slender, almost helpless hand and the whole poise of the woman. And the two little boys at school! Could it be possible, she thought, that Miss Mingle supported the family?
“I’m sorry I am not well enough to arrange to have you meet some of my young friends,” said Mrs. Bergham. “We entertain a little, sister and I. I know so many interesting young people. Bohemians, sister calls them!”
Miss Mingle was arranging the books on top of a bookcase and they fell with a clatter. If she made any answer, it was lost in the noise.
At the name of “Bohemians” Dorothy brightened. “I’ve never seen a real, live Bohemian!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together with ecstasy.
“But we met an actress yesterday,” Tavia said, hesitatingly.
Mrs. Bergham waved her hand in space. “I mean real artists, people who have genius, who are doing wonderful things for the world! We count those among our friends,” she said.
“My!” thought Dorothy, “did Miss Mingle belong to that society? Did she know the geniuses of the world, and yet had never mentioned it to the girls at school?” But Miss Mingle had little to say. She finished arranging the books, and moving swiftly, nervously about, she tried to bring some kind of order out of the confusion in the room.
“Do sit down, sister, this can all wait. I’m sure the girls don’t mind if we are not in perfect order,” said Mrs. Bergham.
Dorothy and Tavia, in one breath, assured the ladies that they didn’t mind a bit, and Tavia even added, with the intention of making Miss Mingle feel at ease, that it was “more home-like.”
“I never could sit up perfectly straight nor stay comfortably near anything that was just where it should be,” explained Mrs. Bergham. “My husband loved that streak of disorder that was part of my nature, but sister was always the most precise and careful little creature.” She looked at Miss Mingle with limpid, loving eyes. “Sister was always the greatest girl for taking all the responsibility, she was so hopelessly in love with work in her girlhood! What a lovely time our girlhood was! Isn’t it time for my broth?” she asked, as she glanced at a small watch on her wrist.