“All right, Mandy.” Kitty, touched by the old woman’s care for her, laid her hand for a minute on her rounded shoulder. “Don’t worry and keep warm.”
Mandy waited in the hall, her woolly head, covered with a bright bandanna handkerchief, cocked in a listening attitude until she heard Kitty and Ted Rodgers depart and the side door closed. Taking a general survey of the empty hall, Mandy limped back into Kitty’s bedroom and drew a tufted armchair up to the grate, selecting a “comfortable” from those stored in the hall closet and wrapping herself in it, she settled down in the chair. For a time she was wakeful, but as the hands of the clock approached the hour, her head drooped sideways and a subdued snore gave proof that she had fallen asleep. So sound was her slumber that the incessant clatter of the bell on the branch telephone, which Kitty had had installed the day before, made no impression upon her.
From her corner near the fire the angora cat, Mouchette, slumbered also. A shower of sparks, as a piece of burning cannel-coal dropped through the grate, singed her fur and woke her just as a figure crept through the partly open bedroom door and into the room. Its objective seemed to be an old-fashioned secretary in the southeast corner of the room. At sight of Mandy, asleep in the chair, the intruder paused, listened attentively to her regular breathing, then, reassured, moved onward across the room, followed by Mouchette’s large yellow eyes.
The cat licked her singed fur, then, with a faint “mew,” started in the direction of the secretary. A second later a graceful leap had landed her on the chair beside it, and she purred contentedly as the intruder turned and gently stroked her head. In her chair by the fire old Mandy snored peacefully, oblivious alike of the rustle of papers being removed from the secretary and the antics of the cat.
Kitty was relieved to find Ted Rodgers a silent companion as they drove out to Chevy Chase, for she was in no mood for small talk. The rush of the cold air against her hot cheeks and the steady throb of the motor as the car raced up one hill and down another brought a sense of relaxation and rest to her tired nerves. A restless longing to get out of the house, away from her thoughts, had pursued her all day. The big, silent man by her side and his air of protection were a tonic in themselves, and she forgot her sorrows and perplexities in the enjoyment of the unexpected trip to Chevy Chase, Washington’s fashionable suburb.
Nearly a year before, Charles Craige had purchased from one of his clients a cottage in Chevy Chase and had moved his Lares and Penates from his bachelor apartment in the Hadleigh. His English butler, Lambert, and the latter’s wife, Mildred, ran his house for him, as they had his apartment. Invitations to his hospitable entertainments were eagerly sought, for he was a born host and nothing gave him more delight than to have his friends about him. Mothers with marriageable daughters and widows never lost hope of catching so worthwhile a parti and Craige had been reported engaged upon numerous occasions. Kitty had always entertained a genuine affection for her godfather, to whose kind offices she had owed many attentions upon her début in Washington society. It was he who had introduced her to Mrs. Parsons, and through his suggestion the gay widow had secured Kitty as her social secretary.
In what seemed an incredibly short time to Kitty, Ted Rodgers drove his roadster under the porte-cochère of “Hideaway.” Lambert came immediately in answer to Kitty’s ring, and his usually solemn manner thawed at the sight of her.
“The master will be ’ere in a moment,” he explained, helping them off with their wraps. “Just step into the living room, Miss Kitty. I ’ave a fresh fire laid there. Mr. Craige told me you were h’expected.”
The living room always aroused Ted Rodgers’ admiration, for it represented his idea of comfort combined with good taste. Craige had a love of art and an appreciation of the beautiful and ample means to gratify both. In furnishing his house, he had spared no expense.
“Aunt Susan was very fond of this room,” Kitty said as she wandered about examining the paintings on the walls. “She and Mr. Craige were great cronies. In fact,” and Kitty’s smile showed each pretty dimple, “he was about the only man she approved of.”