"To be buffeted by the waves of 'dead man's curve?'"
"Oh, how awful!" murmured the old lady. "How perfectly dreadful."
It was at this point that Dick Van Plank unostentatiously left the room.
"But I didn't do it, mother," cried John, thumping his chest and anxious to make his full effect before the return of an enlightened and possibly enlightening Dick. "No, I thought of this big house, with only us three in it, and I said 'I'll bring her home.' Edith will love her. Edith will give her friendship, advice, guidance. She will even give her something to wear instead of the unsuitable things she has on. And what do I find?" He paused and looked around dramatically and warningly as Dick, with a beautified grin, returned. "Does Edith open her heart to her? No. Does Edith open her arms to her? No. All that Edith opens to her is the door which leads—who can tell where, whither?"
"I can tell," said Dick, "it leads right straight to my little diggings. If Edith throws her out, I'll take her in."
"Oh, noble, noble man," ejaculated John remembering the emotional woman, "but ah! that must not be. I took her hand in mine—by the way, did I tell you, she has beautiful little hands, not at all what I should have expected."
"You did not," said Dick. "And now that'll be about all from you. You're just about through."
"My opinion is," said Edith darkly, "that you are both either crazy or worse."
"Go down and see her for yourself," urged Dick, "so quiet, so reserved—hush! hark! she's coming up. Now be nice to her whatever you feel! I'll be taking her away in a minute or two."
But it was Mary Van Plank who came in. Mary, all blooming and glowing from the cold.