“Yes?” Miss Braithwaite waited.
“If I had another inspiration?” Cis went on. “May I say it? I wondered if Mr. Lancaster would not fall in love with Jeanette Lucas, and whether it would not be beautiful if he did?”
Miss Braithwaite stared, then she laughed.
“She’s a lovely creature, and I’d not blame anyone for falling in love with her—you have fallen a wee bit in love with her yourself! But, Cis, my dear, are you getting to be a matchmaker? That’s a sign of old age, poor Cis! Why, I’m not nearly old enough to try to pair people off—or am I old enough to know it’s a risky business, besides being hard to work? That would be a pretty pair, I admit, and suitable. Well, well; possibly! Then you think my beloved Anselm is good enough even for Jeanette Lucas?”
“For anyone; too good for almost anyone else,” said Cis promptly. “Miss Braithwaite, Jeanette said that she told you about the telephone welfare department at home, and Mr. Singer’s selecting me to run it. What ought I do?”
“Come to dinner,” said Miss Braithwaite instantly, winding her arm around Cis to take her to the dining room. “And stay where you are till you get marching orders which can’t be forged. Dear me, are young girls the only ones that have a claim? How about an old girl who needs you? Stay with me, Cicely Adair, at least till you can endure me no longer! You’re a bright spot of comfort, my child, and I like to see your red hair beside my red fire on the hearth!”
CHAPTER XX
THE OLD BOTTLE FOR NEW WINE
THE winter slipped away, melting into spring, and Cis had not left Beaconhite. Increasingly interested in her completely transformed life, growing daily fonder of Miss Braithwaite, Cicely continued to serve Mr. Lucas happily in his office, finding the great matters constantly beneath her fingers more and more intriguing, going at night back into that peacefully beautiful house, into its books, its charming talk, its lofty ideals.
“I’m getting nicer and nicer!” Cis mocked herself one night in her own room, before her mirror. It was perfectly true; she was “getting nicer” and was becoming something far more than her adjective conveyed.
When June came Miss Braithwaite announced to Cis that she was to take a vacation of three months and go with her touring the New England coast and the White Mountains.