"She isn't bad," Eleanor explained; "but she's just like an animal, Maurice says. Devoted to Jacky, but no more idea of right and wrong than—than Bingo!" She was so happy that she laughed, and looked almost young—but at that moment the street door opened, closed, and in the hall some one else laughed. Instantly Eleanor looked old. "It's Edith," she said, coldly.
It was—with Maurice in tow. "I haled him forth from his office," Edith said; "and we went to see your aunt, Eleanor. She's a lamb!"
"Tea?" Eleanor said, briefly.
"Yes, indeed!" Edith said. She looked very pretty—cheeks glowing and brown hair flying about the rounded brim of a brown fur toque.
Maurice, keeping an eye on her, was gently kind to his wife. "Head better, Nelly?" Then, having secured his tea, he drew Edith over to the window and they went on with some discussion which had paused as they entered the house.
Eleanor, watching them, and making another cup of tea for Mrs. Houghton, spilled the boiling water on the tray and on her own hand.
"My dear!" said Mrs. Houghton, "you have scalded yourself!"
And, indeed, Eleanor whitened with the pain of her smarting, puffing fingers. But she said, her eyes fixed on Edith, "What are they talking about?" Mrs. Houghton's look of surprise made her add: "Edith seems so interested. I just wondered...." She had caught a phrase or two:
"I can take the spring course,—it's three months. I think our University Domestic Science Department is just every bit as good as any of the Eastern ones."
"Where did you two meet each other?" Eleanor called, sharply.