"And he knows about china; he's sent lovely things," mourned Claudia.
"Oh, well, he knows about the Miller girls, too," said Emma, smiling; "I think he'll forgive us."
"You'd better go explain," urged Claudia, "and throw in that landscape with the cow that seems to have five legs and belongs to Mr. Harness. Perhaps he'll forgive that, too."
Emma went,—she was an amiable girl. She was not pretty like her sister, Mrs. Raimund, who had married the great railway man and was a power in Chicago society; but there was something in the radiant neatness and good humor of the plain sister which made her pleasant to look upon.
Winslow's mouth and eyes relaxed at her greeting, and he smiled over her official quotation of the Millers' claims.
"King George's table? H'mn; which table, second or third?" His eyes twinkled at Emma, whose own eyes twinkled back.
"They're awfully good women," said she, in a kind of compunction.
"None better," said he.
As he passed on, with his little son at his side, she thought: "He isn't nearly so grim as I used to think."
Mrs. Winslow and Mrs. Winter were a few paces behind. They halted before the china, which Mrs. Winter examined; but Mrs. Winslow's weary eyes lingered hardly a moment before they found some other object on which to rest and leave as briefly.