“That is nicely expressed,” she said, after scrutinizing every point. “For a wonder, it is not typed. He seems to be very much in earnest. And his ideas about—her—remuneration are certainly most liberal. Says nothing about the mother—a cipher, probably. Girl too young to be kept in Washington. I hope,” she continued with sudden animation, “she is sound and strong, and has had everything.”
“Had everything, Mrs. Payne?”
“Measles and whooping-cough—and her first love affair.”
“I believe you will find my clients unexceptionable,” said the principal, who was not fond of jesting upon serious subjects.
“But they really must send her photograph,” Mrs. Payne exclaimed as she rose, eager to convey the result of her interview to Gwendolyn. “And I think you may safely write to Mr. Mordaunt that if everything goes well he may count upon Mrs. Spencer West.”
“Mrs. Spencer West!” cried the principal, who, it will be recalled, was a reader of current prints. “Why, she is one of the most fashionable ladies in New York.”
“Was. But her being so long in mourning has shut her in, and it is desired by her friends to rouse her from—ahem—her grief,” went on Mrs. Payne nimbly. “We think she should have an object. You see, now, Mrs. Smith, how careful we should be to make no mistakes.”
“It is our aim to intermediate between only the most refined and cultivated principals,” replied Mrs. Smith, with a high-toned sniff.
“And it is understood that the matter is strictly confidential.”