And now, at her breakfast table, she held in her hand the businesslike note from his mother, stating that she would call on her with reference to a matter of great interest to them both.
After an instant’s hesitation she handed it over to Miss Ada, and the faded gentlewoman read it hastily and trembled with indignation.
“Glen, dear, do you suppose”—the little dabs of color which always marked excitement stung on her cheekbones—“is it possible that this woman has the effrontery to think that you are interested in her son?”
“That is exactly what she thinks, Miss Ada. Some one has told her how he has been following me about—it’s very probable that she has a detective watching him all the time, to protect him,” the doctor’s daughter finished with a curling lip.
Miss Tenafee bridled. “What shall you do, dear? Send her word that you are engaged at that hour? Let her come, and leave me to deal with her?” The spinster put herself into fierce italics.
“No,” Glen answered her, levelly, “I shall see her, and I shall talk to her, myself. I shall be—glad—to talk to her! It will be—interesting.”
“Of all the impertinence!” her friend sputtered. “Very ordinary people, without doubt, who have nothing but their money——”
“I wonder,” the girl gave a tight-lipped smile, “just how she will try to handle me, Miss Ada? Will she be stern, or conciliatory? Do you suppose she’ll shed tears and beg me not to ruin his life? Or will she offer to make a settlement on me if I will let him go?”
“Glen, dearest—don’t say such things!”
“That’s what she’s coming for, Miss Ada, to rescue her son from the clutches of a mill girl. The only wonder is that she didn’t simply order me to appear at the hotel!”