“Aren't you going to offer your mother some?” she asked, laughing.
“Mother can't eat candy. Dr. Wallace has forbidden it,” Lucy said, quickly.
“Yes, that is quite true,” assented Mrs. Ayres. She began reading her paper. Lucy offered the bowl again to Rose, who took a bonbon. She was just swallowing it when Horace Allen appeared. He made a motion which did not escape Mrs. Ayres. She rose and confronted him with perfect calmness and dignity. “Good-afternoon, Mr. Allen,” she said.
Lucy had sprung up quickly. She was very white. Horace said good-afternoon perfunctorily, and looked at Rose.
Mrs. Ayres caught up the bowl of candy. “Let me offer you some, Mr. Allen,” she said. “It is home-made candy, and quite harmless, I assure you.”
Her fair, elderly face confronted him smilingly, her voice was calm.
“Thank you,” said Horace, and took a sugared almond.
Lucy made a movement as if to stop him, but her mother laid her hand with gentle firmness on her arm. “Sit down, Lucy,” she said, and Lucy sat down.
Chapter XII
Henry Whitman and his wife Sylvia remained, the one reading his Sunday paper, the other her book, while Horace and Rose were away. Henry's paper rustled, Sylvia turned pages gently. Occasionally she smiled the self-satisfied smile of the reader who thinks she understands the author, to her own credit. Henry scowled over his paper the scowl of one who reads to disapprove, to his own credit.