“I was selfish enough to keep Annette to myself until I was fully dressed,” said Eleanor, “then I sent her to Cousin Kate.”
“So you brought Annette with you?” asked Thornton.
“Yes, indeed. I had no intention of inflicting your bachelor household with three women and no handmaiden. I knew Sophy would have her hands full cooking dinner, therefore I brought Annette along.” Her restless eyes detected a figure hovering just outside the hall door. “Come in, Cynthia,” and she went forward to meet her friend.
The two beautiful girls made a picture good to look upon as they stood together. Cynthia wore a simple frock, which matched her cheeks in whiteness; while the pathetic droop of her mouth and the dark shadows under her eyes did not detract from her charm, she looked wretchedly ill. She shook hands with Douglas, when he was presented to her, with polite indifference, then seated herself in a chair and leaned back wearily. Douglas and Thornton exchanged glances, and the latter shook his head sadly. He was about to speak when Mrs. Truxton bustled into the room.
“I am sorry to keep everybody waiting,” she exclaimed, as Douglas pulled forward a chair for her. “But, if you will have dinner at such a ridiculously early hour, Dana, you must expect your guests to be late.”
“You are not late, Kate, for dinner has not yet been announced. I had it earlier than usual as I thought we would retire soon afterwards and get a good night’s rest.”
Cynthia shuddered involuntarily, and Eleanor, whose hand rested on her shoulder, patted it affectionately. “It’s all very well for you older people to keep early hours, Uncle Dana, but Cynthia and I are going to do just as we please. Personally, I expect to stay up until the wee sma’ hours.”
“Dinner am served,” announced Nicodemus, opening the folding doors leading to the dining room, and, with an old-fashioned courtly bow, Colonel Thornton offered his arm to Mrs. Truxton and escorted her to the table, the two girls and Douglas following in their wake.
The dinner passed quickly. Thornton was an agreeable talker, and Douglas, who had traveled in many lands, seconded his efforts by recounting many amusing experiences which had befallen him. Cynthia’s pale cheeks assumed a more natural hue as the two skilful talkers drew her out of herself, and Thornton sat back, well pleased, when he finally succeeded in making her laugh.
“Washington isn’t what it used to be,” he declared. “As trite a statement as it is true. Its very bigness has spoiled it socially. There are cliques within cliques, and too many foreign elements dominate it nowadays.”