“Phœbe dear, dost thou think that that would interest this lady?”
“But we can’t let her go without one effort to save her. I think it is as serious as that, at this stage of the girl’s development.”
“Suppose thee writes a letter to Mrs. Bryce.”
“I will. Let us not speak of it to Isabelle until I have her mother’s answer.”
“Very well, dear heart.”
Mrs. Benjamin wrote and re-wrote the letter. Finally one was despatched and she anxiously awaited the reply. It was long in coming, and it fell like a blow on her heart. Mrs. Bryce was glad to have such a good report of Isabelle, but her plan had always been that the girl should spend, at Miss Vantine’s school, the two years previous to her début, as she herself had done. All the girls of her daughter’s set went there, and she wished Isabelle to be with them. Thanking Mrs. Benjamin for her interest, etc., etc.
The Benjamins had a conference of disappointment over it, and it was decided that Isabelle must be told. Mrs. Benjamin’s face was so rueful over it that her husband offered to do the telling. He and Isabelle were going off on an expedition together, which would give him an opportunity, and Mrs. Benjamin could provide the comfort that must follow.
He found it no easy task. As he looked at his sturdy young companion, listened to her picturesque talk, he felt that he was called upon to tell a young vestal virgin that she was to be sacrificed to the god of mammon.
“This is good air, isn’t it!” she said, breathing deeply. “How do people live in cities, do you suppose?”
Mr. Benjamin longed to shirk, but he took himself in hand.