The door was opened and a lady came in. She was not dressed in nearly so costly a manner as her visitor, but her appearance impressed. She was a great lady in manner and in appearance. She was also gracious. Though a speaker on platforms, an advocate of many causes, she was still feminine and dignified.
She produced the effect which she desired without apparent effort. She carried in her hand a bundle of letters and papers. She bowed to her visitors.
"It is very good of you," she said, "to come. If you will excuse me one minute——" She sat down and touched a hand-bell. It was answered by a young lady. "These are the letters," said Lady Woodroffe. "I have indicated the replies. You can let me have them at six." Then she turned to Alice again. "You will forgive a busy woman, I am sure," she said. "I am for the moment greatly occupied with rescue work of all kinds. It is a beautiful thing to snatch even one poor woman from a life of crime."
One may observe that she received Alice as she had received Richard—with a great show of important philanthropic work. The effect produced was not quite the same, because Alice was thinking of something else, and to Molly it was only good play-acting. She was not in the least impressed by the presence or the authority. She only considered that the business was well done.
Lady Woodroffe finished. "Now," she said, smiling sweetly, "we will begin to talk."
"I have brought my cousin, Miss Pennefather," said Alice. "She knows why I am here."
"Oh yes!" Lady Woodroffe recognized Molly's presence with the inclination which asserts a higher place. "Shall we take some tea first?"
She was disappointed in the appearance of the woman who claimed her son. One expects of a woman who would sell her baby a face of brass and eyes of bronze; one expects vulgarity in a highly pronounced form—perhaps with ostrich feathers. She came in expectant of a battle with a red-faced, over-dressed female. She found a woman dressed quietly, yet in costly stuffs, a pale face, delicate features; no sign of the commoner forms of vulgarity; a woman of apparent refinement. Of course, we all know that a person may be refined yet not a gentlewoman. Many there are who take comfort in that reflection.
She rang the bell for tea and began to talk. "It is very good of you to come," she began. "Tell me, have you been long in the old country? Do you find it altered since you left it—so long ago? I believe you are not an American by birth. Have you any children? Do you soon return to the States?"