“Oh, well, take the consequences then,” replied her daughter, undutifully. “Chichester Barnard warned me Joe spends most of his time with that trained nurse, Kathryn Allen; he said he couldn’t tell me what kind of a character she is”—Pauline raised her eyebrows suggestively.
Her mother reddened angrily. “I’ll thank Mr. Barnard to mind his own business,” she snapped. “Joe is too much of a gentleman to drop Miss Allen’s acquaintance after her kindness to him. He tells me their friendship is entirely platonic.”
“Is that all?” Pauline’s sarcastic drawl was enough to exasperate a far better tempered woman than Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper. “Don’t blame me, mother dear, if you get an undesirable daughter-in-law.”
Her mother’s retort was checked by the entrance of Janet and Marjorie, and she rose somewhat flurriedly to greet them.
“So good of you to call,” she cooed. “Pauline, dear, you know Miss Langdon. Come and sit by me, Miss Janet, and tell me of all your gay doings. Joe will be so sorry to have missed you.”
“We caught a vanishing glimpse of him as we drove up to the door,” Janet loosened her furs, for the room was uncomfortably warm. “Are you going to the Charity Ball on Monday evening?”
“Yes, we have taken a box. Can’t you come with us?” added Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper hospitably.
“Thanks very much, but I believe father has secured a box also,” Janet smiled prettily upon her hostess while her hand played nervously with the silver ornaments on the tea-table. “I think it’s awfully kind of you and your daughter to be so sweet to me, a newcomer.”
Marjorie, sitting some distance from Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper and Janet, watched them anxiously, and ignored Pauline’s decidedly cool manner and curt speech. They talked on uninteresting topics for some time, and Marjorie was on the point of rising to leave when she heard Janet accept Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper’s offer of a cup of tea. She had neglected to warn Janet before entering that they must make their visit a short one, as their calling list that afternoon was exceedingly long. There was nothing for it but to wait until Janet had swallowed her exceedingly hot cup of tea, which the butler had just brought in, and concealing her impatience, she surrendered herself to the inevitable.
“So sorry you had to leave the Walbridge dance,” said Pauline, as conversation languished. “Miss Fordyce tells me you are subject to—eh—headaches, isn’t it?”