The unusual moment at which he made his call did not seem to surprise Mrs. Broughton. It was almost as though she were expecting him.
“My reason for coming at this absurd hour,” began Roddy in some embarrassment, “is to apologize for running away yesterday without wishing you ‘good-by.’ I suddenly remembered——”
The young matron stopped him with a frown.
“I am disappointed, Roddy,” she interrupted, “and hurt. If you distrust me, if you won’t confide in an old friend no matter how much she may wish to help you, she can only——”
“Oh!” cried Roddy abjectly, casting aside all subterfuge, “will you help me? Please, Mrs. Broughton!” he begged. “Dear Mrs. Broughton! Fix it so I can see her. I am so miserable,” he pleaded, “and I am so happy.”
With the joyful light of the match-maker who sees her plans proceeding to success Mrs. Broughton beamed upon him.
“By a strange coincidence,” she began, in tones tantalizingly slow, “a usually proud and haughty young person condescended to come to me this morning for advice. She doesn’t distrust me. She believes——”
“And what did you advise?” begged Roddy.
“I advised her to wait in the garden until I sent a note telling you——”
Already Roddy was at the door.