The woman led the way up the stairs, at the head of which stood Jay, his teeth now chattering.
"Pray get his wet clothes off!" she said to the woman. "I'll find my way, if you'll point out the door."
The woman was not much pleased with this, and showed it by preceding her to the door, and watching her well into the room before she turned to push the unwilling Jay into the nursery, and with deliberation, not to say sullenness, take off his dripping clothes.
Missy found herself in a pretty room, rather warm, and rather dark, and rather close with foreign-smelling toilet odors. Before she had seen or spoken to the lady on the sofa, she had felt a strong inclination to push open the windows, and let in the glory of the sinking western sun, and the fresh breeze of evening. She felt a healthy revolt from the rich smells and the dim light. A soft voice spoke to her from the sofa, and then, as she came nearer, she saw the loveliest creature! Like all plain women, she had an enthusiasm for beauty in her own sex. She almost forgot to speak, she was so enchanted with the face before her. It was, indeed, beautiful; rare, dark eyes, perfect features, skin of a lovely tint. Missy was so dazzled by the sight she hardly knew whether she were attracted or not. The lady's voice was low and musical. Missy did not know whether she liked the voice or not. She could only listen and wonder. It was an experience—something new come into her life. She felt, in an odd sort of way, how small her knowledge of people was; how much existed from which she had been shut out.
"I've lived among people just like myself all my life; it's contemptible," she thought. "No wonder I am narrow. A woman lives such a stupid life at home."
She sat down and talked with Mrs. Andrews. Mrs. Andrews! What a prosaic name for this exotic plant; as if one called a Fritallaria Imperialis a potato. She began to wonder about Mr. Andrews. What was he? Why had no one told her these people were remarkable? She almost forgot to answer questions, and bear her part in the conversation. She did not yet know whether she admired or not. She only knew she was near a person who had lived a different life from hers; who had a history; who probably didn't think as she did on any one subject; who was entering from a side door, the existence of which she had not guessed, upon a scene which had seemed to belong to Missy and her sort alone. From what realms did she come? In what school had she been taught? She could not make her out, while she was being thanked for bringing Jay home. There was a languor about her manner of speaking of the little boy, which did not satisfy Missy, used to mammas who lived for their children, and considered it the pride and glory of life to know nothing beyond the nursery. This was the first mother who had ever dared to be languid about her children on Missy's small stage. She did not understand, and perhaps showed her perplexity, for her new acquaintance, with a faint sigh, said: "Poor little Jay; he is so strong and vehement, so alien. I believe he terrifies me. I think it must be because I am weak."
"I never liked a child so much; he is a little man," said Missy, warmly.
"Ah, yes! you are well and strong; you are in sympathy with him—but I—ah, well, I hope, Miss Rothermel, you will never have to feel yourself useless and a burden."
"I hope not, I am sure," said Missy honestly, feeling a little hurt on Jay's account, but still a great deal of pity for the soft voiced invalid. "Mamma could understand you better. She has been ill many years."
"Ah, the dear lady! I wish that I might know her. But with her it is different in a way. She perhaps is used to it, if ever one can be used to misery. But for me it is newer, I suppose, and, when young, one looks for pleasure, just a little."