“I dare say she cried because you came, if you were as fierce as you are now.”
“She had been crying and looked miserably unhappy.”
“Probably a row with the cook. She isn’t used to keeping house. She’s going to Boston with the Colonel and that will set her up again.”
Mrs. Blair was silent for a moment then flashed:
“How much do you see of her?”
“Precious little. Breakfast, and a glimpse sometimes as I go to my couch at night.”
“You must leave the house; you must come and live with us at once,” declared Mrs. Blair with impressive finality.
“Thanks!” Wayne laughed. “Do you think I tease my stepmother to make her cry? Do you think my moral example is bad for her? Addie snubs me every chance she gets. Only this morning at breakfast, while the Colonel read a papal encyclical or something equally exciting, Addie and I discussed the relative merits of country sausage and chocolate éclaires. To see me sitting at the breakfast table between the Colonel and my stepmother is edifying beyond any words. Addie is a good girl; I like Addie. But she isn’t in the same class with your protégée. Here’s the Club; shall I detach John McCandless from the sacred rye-pots and send him out?”
“You know John never drinks; and he’s in Buffalo to-day.”
“Then he will drink beyond any doubt; one must—in Buffalo!”