“You won’t get anywhere with that,” said Jane with decision. “The thing to do is to tell Mr. Towne that you have news of her, and that you’ll give it only under promise that he won’t do anything until he has talked it over with you.”
“That sounds better,” said young Baldwin; “how did you happen to think of it?”
“Now and then,” said Jane, “I have ideas.”
Baldy went to the telephone. When he came back his eyes were like gray moons. “He promised everything, and he’s coming out——”
“Here?”
“Yes, he wouldn’t wait until to-morrow. He’s wild about her——”
“Well, he would be.” Jane mentally surveyed the situation. “Baldy, I’m going to make some coffee, and have some cheese and crackers.”
“He may not want them.”
“On a cold night like this, I’ll say he will; anybody would.”
Baldy helped Jane get out the round-bellied silver pot, the pitchers and tray. The young people had a sense of complacency as they handled the old silver. Frederick Towne could have nothing of more distinguished history. It had belonged to their great-grandmother, Dabney, who was really D’Aubigne, and it had graced an Emperor’s table. Each piece had a monogram set in an engraved wreath. The big tray was so heavy that Jane lifted it with difficulty, so Baldy set it for her on the little mahogany table which they drew up in front of the fire. There was no wealth now in the Barnes family, but the old silver spoke of a time when a young hostess as black-haired as Jane had dispensed lavish hospitality.