“Oh, it will be all right, Tina!” said Mr. Graham, easily. “We have talked about it too long; a small girl of fourteen or so is not worth so much discussion. I’ll meet you to-night at seven, if you like, at Delmonico’s, and we’ll go to the theater after we dine. Henry can bring down my evening clothes when he meets me. I have a directors’ meeting after Exchange closes, and I can’t get home to dress before dinner.”
Mrs. Graham’s face cleared, as her husband felt sure that it would, at this proposition, but she said reproachfully, as she kissed him good-by: “You know our club has its semiannual dinner to-night, Howard, and you promised to come later and hear the speeches.”
“Merciful powers! Don’t mention such trifles as an extra girl or two in the house after that!” groaned Mr. Graham, in mock despair, as he got into his overcoat. “I really believe I did!”
“When did you say that this Miss Lochinvar was to come out of the West, father?” asked Sydney, delaying on his way through the hall. Throughout the discussion at the table the eldest born had not spoken.
“To-morrow; will you go with one of the girls in the carriage to meet her?” asked his father, looking up with a laugh for the apt nickname.
“Couldn’t possibly; I am booked for football with our team,” said Sydney, resuming his way, having stopped as his father spoke. “I wish Miss Lochinvar joy, though; if she has plenty of brothers and sisters she’s likely to be lonesome in this crowd.”
Gwendoline and Gladys sauntered along as he said these words, and stopped short with a peal of exultant laughter. “Miss Lochinvar! Well, if that isn’t the very best name for her!” they cried in a breath. “We shall always call her that. Isn’t Sydney too clever!” But in Gwen’s laugh there was only pure amusement at the fun of the thing, while in Gladys’s mirth there was a ring of spite.
CHAPTER II
“HE ALIGHTED AT NETHERBY GATE”
The question of meeting the little stranger from Crescendo was solved by sending Nurse Hummel to the station, as probably any one of the Graham family could have prophesied that it would be. Most things in that household connected with a child fell into Nurse Hummel’s hands. She had come to take charge of Sydney when he was a youth one month old, with more nebulous features than are considered desirable for perfect beauty. Consequently she had presided over the earliest moments of the life of each of the succeeding Graham babies; had nursed them with love no mere money could recompense through childish and more serious illnesses, and cherished them with all the warmth of her big German heart, early bereft of the love of her husband and her own only little child.