There had been no lack of cordiality on Betty’s part toward any one of their visitors. On Anthony’s arrival with Meg Everett she had thanked him for his gift in her most charming manner, but had made no reference to the card which he had enclosed nor to the fact that she preferred wearing other flowers than his. Meg was looking unusually pretty tonight and very frankly Betty told her so. Her soft blond hair was parted on the side with a big loose coil at the back and a black velvet ribbon encircled her head. Professor Everett was not wealthy and Meg’s college education was costing him a good deal, therefore she had ordinarily only a moderate sum of money for buying her clothes and no special talent for making the best of them. However, this evening her dress had been a Christmas gift from her brother John and, as it was of soft white silk and lace, particularly becoming to Meg’s pretty blondness. Her blue eyes were shining with a kind of veiled light and her color came and went swiftly. She seemed just as ingenuous and impulsive as she had ever been, until it was difficult to know what must be the truth about her. Several times during the evening Esther told herself sternly that of course Meg had a perfect right to accept Anthony Graham’s attentions if she liked, for there had never been any definite understanding between him and her sister, and indeed that she had disapproved of him in the past. Yet now Anthony Graham, in spite of his origin, might have been considered a good match for almost any girl. He was a distinguished looking fellow, with his brilliant foreign coloring, his dark hair and high forehead. Esther recalled having once felt keenly sorry for him because the other girls and young men in their group of friends had not considered him their social or intellectual equal. Now he was entirely self-possessed and sure of himself. Yet he did seem almost too grave for their happy Betty; possibly it was just as well he had transferred his interest to Meg. No one could ever succeed in making Meg Everett serious for any great length of time. She was still the same happy-go-lucky girl of their old Camp Fire days whom “a higher education” was not altering in the least. Yet the “higher education” may have given her subjects of conversation worthy of discussing with Anthony, for certainly they spent a great part of the time talking in low tones to each other.
Betty appeared in the gayest possible spirits and had never looked prettier. Richard Hunt seemed delighted with her, and John Everett had apparently returned to the state of admiration which he had always felt when they had been boy and girl together in Woodford. Indeed Betty did feel unusually animated and excited; she could hardly have known why except that she had spent a rather dull winter and that she was extremely excited at seeing her old friends again. And then she and Mr. Hunt had so much to say to each other on a subject that never failed to be interesting—Polly!
Neither he nor Miss Adams had the faintest idea of what had become of that erratic young person, although Margaret Adams had also received a Christmas letter from her. But where she was or what she was doing, no one had the faintest idea. It was evident that Mr. Hunt highly disapproved of Polly’s proceedings, and although until the instant before Betty had felt exactly as he did, now she rallied at once to her friend’s defense.
“Mr. Hunt, you must not think for an instant that Polly was ungrateful either to Miss Adams or to you for your many kindnesses, only she had to do things in her own Polly fashion, one that other people could not exactly understand. But if one had ever been fond of Polly,” Betty insisted, “you were apt to keep on caring for her for some reason or other which you could not exactly explain. Not that Polly was as pretty or perhaps as sweet as Mollie.”
Several times during the evening Betty had noticed that every now and then her companion had glanced with interest toward Mollie O’Neill. However, when he now agreed with her last statement; she was not sure whether his agreement emphasized the fact of Mollie’s superior prettiness, or that Polly was an unforgettable character.
Without a doubt Esther’s and Dick’s first formal dinner party was a pronounced success. The food was excellent, the two maids, one of whom was hired for the occasion, served without a flaw. There was only one trifling occurrence that might have created a slight disturbance, and this situation fortunately Betty Ashton saw in time to save.
She happened to be sitting at the side of the table that faced the windows. Earlier in the evening one of these windows had been opened in order to cool the room and the curtain left partly up. The wind was not particularly high and no one seemed to be inconvenienced. But most unexpectedly toward the close of the dinner a gale must have sprung up. Because there was a sudden, sharp noise at the window and without warning the blind rolled itself to the topmost ledge with startling abruptness, as if some one had pulled sharply at the cord and then let go.
Then another noise immediately followed, not so startling but far more puzzling. The first racket had caused every member of the little company to start instinctively. Then at the same instant, before Richard Ashton, who chanced to be pouring a glass of water for Margaret Adams, could get up from his place, Betty turned to Richard Hunt. John Everett happened to be talking to his other neighbor at the moment.
“Mr. Hunt,” Betty asked quickly, “won’t you please close that window for us? It is too cold to have it open and besides one does not altogether like the idea that outside persons might be able to look into the room.”
Perhaps Richard Hunt was just a moment longer at the window in the performance of so simple a task than one might have expected, but no one observed it.