Cis heard this long tale of the man whom she was to meet, without actually hearing it; she felt no smallest interest in this fine gentleman, nearing forty, who was spending his days, strength and means for his Church and hers. If she thought at all of what Miss Gallatin told her as she made her hair tidy for dinner, it was that he “must be fusty and musty, pokey and dull to fuss over things like that.” In the attractive little room where she dined, Cis was introduced to Mr. Lancaster. She saw him tall, slenderly built, elegant in dress, fine of feature, handsome, perhaps, and with a gleam of pure humor in his eyes which was unexpected to her in an extremely devout man. Then she forgot all about him, for Rodney began to talk to Miss Gallatin, the stranger joined in, and in listening to Rodney, who did talk well and fluently, Cis forgot all else, her eyes as well as her cars feasting upon Rodney’s perfections.
Occasionally Cis spoke, uttering one of her characteristic quick speeches, much to the point, with a humorous turn and a keenness of insight that made Mr. Lancaster look at her attentively, smiling upon her as if he were ready, desirous more correctly, to draw her into conversation, but Cis did not see this, nor did she respond beyond the requirements of civility, to the remarks to this end which he addressed to her. It came out that Cis was secretary to Mr. Lucas, and when he heard this Mr. Lancaster turned to her with alacrity.
“Mr. Wilmer Lucas?” he cried. “Lucas and Henderson? That office is deeply concerned with the franchise now before the legislature and Congress. Everybody is agog to know how it is going. I, myself, am imploring all the saints to get it through! It will matter greatly to my plans, if it succeeds. I’m going to be able to found an Italian colony, if it goes through; give employment to many heads of families, and save no end of bambini from proselytizing societies for their destruction! You must know something about the way the matter is tending, Miss Adair. Please admit that it is trying, to feel that the knowledge one needs is just across the table, but wholly inaccessible, enclosed by the nimbus of your hair, sacred as a trust.”
“I know all about it,” said Cis. “I handle the whole correspondence, but I’m not talking.”
“Don’t imagine that I would suspect you of betraying a trust, still less that I would want information at that price,” said Mr. Lancaster. “It must soon be decided and made public. Interesting to see the inner wheels go around, drop a little accelerating oil on them in a hidden corner!”
“Yes,” agreed Cis. “I like wheels, things getting done. But I don’t care more about that franchise than anything else, except that everybody seems to be wild about it. Rather sport to be the only one in the know, except your principals! What I’d like to find out is who’s going to carry off the World’s Series Championship!”
Mr. Lancaster laughed, with a friendly and admiring look at unconscious Cis, who was laughing at Rod’s assurance that he could tell her, only she wouldn’t believe him. They had a bet on the result of the baseball season, on the chances of which they differed.
After dinner there was music; Mr. Lancaster played the piano remarkably well, and Rodney had brought his violin; he played with brilliant excellence music that was sometimes sentimental, sometimes frolicsome, always popular, and never classical. Cis had a pleasant voice and sang with natural expression and taste, but she could not be induced to utter a note.
“I don’t want to sing where I can be heard,” she explained. “Padded cell, solitary confinement for my concert hall!” and again Mr. Lancaster laughed at her; he evidently found her unaffected gaiety refreshing.
At last the evening was at an end, and Miss Gallatin was helping Cis into her coat preparatory to her leaving.