“But you have provided her with a chaperon.” Duncan yawned as he arranged his white tie.
“The chaperon isn’t any too old,” confessed Mrs. Fordyce. She had not taken her family entirely into her confidence in referring to Marjorie, contenting herself with mentioning the fact, two days before, that she had engaged a chaperon for Janet, a statement which raised a storm of protest on that young débutante’s part.
“Then why in the world did you engage her?” asked Duncan.
Mrs. Fordyce debated the question. “Mrs. McIntyre assured me she was altogether charming, and most popular. She said she knew Washington’s complex social system to a dot....”
“And we are to supply the dash?” Duncan shrugged his broad shoulders. “Apparently you have secured a domestic treasure; well, your plan may work out all right, but, mother, I don’t like the idea of your retiring so much from social life.”
“With my infirmity I cannot face strangers; don’t ask me, dear.”
“Mother! As if anyone ever thinks of that after they have once met you,” exclaimed Duncan, greatly touched by the unuttered grief in Mrs. Fordyce’s eyes, and he gave her an impulsive hug.
“Here, here, this will never do,” protested a hearty voice from the other end of the boudoir. “Duncan, my boy, do you realize there are young ‘buds’ downstairs waiting for your fond embraces?”
“Oh, get out!” retorted Duncan undutifully.
“Are our guests arriving, Calderon?” asked Mrs. Fordyce in some alarm. “And you are not in the drawing-room?”