“I have bought,” she said to herself, “and I have paid. Now it only remains for me to enjoy Lynn’s triumph. He will not have to pay—his mother has paid for him.”
At breakfast, Iris was more like herself, and Lynn was in good spirits. “I dreamed all night,” he said, cheerily, “and one dream kept coming back. I was buying something somewhere and refusing to pay for it, and there was a row about it. I insisted that the thing was paid for—I don’t know what it was, but it was something I wanted.”
“We always pay,” said Iris, sadly; “but I can’t help wondering what I am paying for now.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Margaret, “you are paying in advance.”
Iris brightened, and upon her face came the ghost of a smile. “That may be,” she answered.
“Iris,” asked Lynn, “will you go out with me this afternoon? You haven’t been for a long time.”
“I don’t think so,” she replied, dully. “It is kind of you, but I’m not very strong just now.”
“We’ll walk slowly,” Lynn assured her, “and it will do you good. Won’t you come, just to please me?”
His voice was very tender, and Iris sighed. “I’ll see,” she said, resignedly; “I don’t care what I do.”
“At three, then,” said Lynn. “I’ll get through practising by that time and I’ll be waiting for you.”