Molly led such a busy, concentrated life, that when she did relax for a few moments, she sometimes seemed absent-minded and inattentive. The Professor was looking at her closely.
“You are pleased at being asked to the McLean’s?” he said.
“I was thinking of something else,” she said. “I was wondering if, after all, Nance couldn’t arrange to go. Of course, she’ll be invited, too; but, you see, her mother is to be here.”
“Is Mrs. Oldham, the Suffragette, her mother?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Oldham is to dine at the President’s to-night. I know, because I was asked to meet her, but”—he looked at her very hard indeed—“I had another engagement.”
“Then Nance can go. Isn’t it beautiful? I am so glad!” Molly clasped her hands joyously.
Professor Green gave her such a beautiful, beaming smile that it fairly transfigured his face.
“You are a very good friend, Miss Brown,” he said gently; “but would not Miss Oldham rather be with her mother, that is, in case the President should invite her, too, which is highly probable?”
“Oh, I hope she won’t. You see, Nance has never had much pleasure with young people, and”—it was difficult to explain—“and her mother——” she hesitated.