“Oh, no,” she said, “no appointment; I just want to see him a minute, if I can.” Then the clerk smiled a very wise smile and volunteered that his chief was extremely busy, even more so than usual, as a very important case was called for the next day.
“Very well,” said Aunt Elsie, cheerfully; “Just ask him if he can see me, will you? If he can’t, no harm will be done.” Whereupon the amused clerk coughed to conceal a laugh.
“Cards?” he questioned of Mr. Forsythe, who was aware that at least two of the half-dozen clerks at work beyond the alcove had stopped their pens to gaze and listen. Aunt Elsie answered:
“No, I haven’t any cards; I don’t make calls, as a rule. Kendall, have you a bit of paper that I could write my name on?” And that young man, too thoroughly the gentleman to show outward discomposure, yet conscious of feeling that it would be a relief to kick the now grinning youth down the outside stairs, offered the reverse side of his business card to Aunt Elsie who wrote her name and address in a bold, firm hand. Had they followed the grinning youth to the presence of his chief they would have found him grave and respectful.
“I beg pardon, sir,” he said, speaking as one who knew he must not waste time. “A persistent old woman from the country insisted on my bringing in her name; I told her it was useless, but—”
He had not time for more. The busy man glared at the intruder from under heavy eyebrows, glanced at the name on the card and exploded his surprising order: “Show Miss Forman in immediately.”
“I won’t hinder you but a minute, Kendall,” Aunt Elsie said, as she limped away to obey the summons; but it was many minutes before she reappeared; so many indeed, that her perplexed escort had time to imagine all sorts of uncomfortable situations, among them the possibility that Aunt Elsie, in her ignorance of business had made a serious mistake, and the amazing eight-thousand-dollar check was involving her and the Formans in more trouble; perhaps Mr. Westlake had written to her about it, and she had determined to see him in person. But when she at last appeared her composed manner was reassuring, though all she said was: “I’ve tried your patience, I’m afraid; he kept me longer than I had any idea he would.” And when they were at last beyond the gaze of the now thoroughly puzzled clerk she had only this to add: “Henry looks older than a man of his age ought to; I’m afraid he is working too hard, and for this world only.”
She was as eager as a child about going over the fine old house on Dupont Circle; limping bravely up and down stairs and peeping into every nook and corner. She was much more at home in the house than was Kendall, although he had been a guest there in his childhood.
“This is Ray’s room,” she said, seating herself comfortably on the wide window seat. “I don’t wonder that they talk yet about the view! It is fine, isn’t it? She likes this room better than any she ever had, and one can see why; it is like her, some way. Down there is the rose garden she told me about; it needs a lot of work done in it. She loves to work over flowers, doesn’t she?”
“I think so,” Kendall said, absent-mindedly; he was thinking about a very different house and trying to decide whether or not to confide in Aunt Elsie and claim her as an ally. Suddenly he decided: “I’m especially interested in houses just now, Aunt Elsie; I am thinking of moving.”