After a moment the door was opened, and in the full radiance of the bright room stood the Senator. Attired in a handsome smoking-coat, he looked younger than at their first meeting.
“Well, madam,” he said, recognizing the couple, and particularly the daughter, “what can I do for you?”
Very much abashed, the mother hesitated in her reply.
“We would like to know if you have any washing you could let us have to do?”
“Washing?” he repeated after her, in a voice which had a peculiarly resonant quality. “Washing? Come right in. Let me see.”
He stepped aside with much grace, waved them in and closed the door. “Let me see,” he repeated, opening and closing drawer after drawer of the massive black-walnut bureau. Jennie studied the room with interest. Such an array of nicknacks and pretty things on mantel and dressing-case she had never seen before. The Senator’s easy-chair, with a green-shaded lamp beside it, the rich heavy carpet and the fine rugs upon the floor—what comfort, what luxury!
“Sit down; take those two chairs there,” said the Senator, graciously, disappearing into a closet.
Still overawed, mother and daughter thought it more polite to decline, but now the Senator had completed his researches and he reiterated his invitation. Very uncomfortably they yielded and took chairs.
“Is this your daughter?” he continued, with a smile at Jennie.
“Yes, sir,” said the mother; “she’s my oldest girl.”