Hobart started towards her; he seemed about to say something very secret. Thurley looked at him wistfully, every memory concerning the Corners, her dissatisfactions and rebellions vanished. She assumed a gay, star-like mood.
But he thought better of it and became the polite and baffling Bliss Hobart with whom no one took liberties, least of all a girl protégée. It would be wiser to tell the secrets to the little Buddha whose silence was of golden quality. Perhaps, if years ago, more years ago than Thurley knew, one’s secret things had not been used as public jokes....
“I’m afraid I cannot answer,” he said brusquely. “Leave my greetings for Miss Clergy and don’t try to wear your mascot as a watchguard—happy days, to-morrow as usual.” Patting her on the shoulder, he dismissed himself.
Thurley set the mascot before her books and returned to grubbing. Two hours later she glanced up and the diamond eyes gave her a jolly twinkle.
“I say,” she remarked out loud, “you are first aid to the agitated! Now tell me—didn’t he for just a moment treat me as if I were a real woman?”
So passed the first New York Christmas!
The next day, when Thurley went for her lesson, she had the pleasure of being snubbed and scolded. But passing out of the studio, she saw the little Buddha sitting on his desk very close to where his hand must reach each time he took up his pen or blotted a letter!