CHAPTER VII[ToC]
Miss Lambkin was right. Sally found a place to board—a nice place, to quote Letty Lambkin, although it was not Miss Miller's. No doubt Letty was sorry that Sally had not chosen Miss Miller's, for Miss Miller was an especial friend of Letty's; and, by choosing another place, Sally had cut off, at a blow, a most reliable source of information. Very possibly Sally did not think of this, but if she had, it would have been but one more argument in favor of her choice, for Mrs. Stump couldn't bear Letty, and she had vowed that she should never darken her door. Letty would not have darkened the door very much. She was a thin little thing. But, if Sally did not think of it, Letty did, and she regretted it. She even went so far as to mention it to Mrs. Upjohn.
"If Sally Ladue thinks she's getting ahead of me," she said, with sharp emphasis, "she'll find she's mistaken. I have my sources of information."
Mrs. Upjohn did not reprove her. She had an inordinate thirst for information which did not concern her, and Letty was the most unfailing source of it. So she only smiled sympathetically and said nothing. She was sorry to be deprived of such accurate information about Sally as Miss Miller would have supplied, but she still had Patty. In fact, Mrs. Upjohn was beginning to wonder how much longer she was to have Patty. Patty seemed to have no thought of going. Indeed, she would not have known where to go. Patty was entering upon some brand-new experiences, rather late in life. Already she was beginning to miss the pendulum.
Before Sally took this step which seemed to be so much more important to others than to herself, various things had happened, of which Miss Lambkin could have had no knowledge, even with her reliable sources of information. Everett Morton had had an interview with his mother, at her request. He would not have sought an interview, for he had a premonition of the subject of it.
Mrs. Morton was one of those rare women whom wealth had not spoiled; that is, not wholly; not very much, indeed. There was still left a great deal of her natural self, and that self was sweet and kind and yielding enough, although, on occasions, she could be as decided as she thought necessary. This was one of the occasions. The interview was nearly over. It had been short and to the point, which concerned Sally.
"Well, Everett," said Mrs. Morton decidedly, "your attitude towards Sally Ladue must be changed. I haven't been able to point out, as exactly as I should like to do, just where it fails to be satisfactory. But it does fail, and it must be changed."
Everett was standing by the mantel, a cigarette between his fingers. "You do not make your meaning clear, my dear mother," he replied coldly. "If you would be good enough to specify any speech of mine? Anything that I have said, at any time?" he suggested. "If there has been anything said or done for which I should apologize, I shall be quite ready to do so. It is a little difficult to know what you are driving at." And he smiled in his most exasperating way.
Mrs. Morton's color had been rising and her eyes glittered. Everett should have observed and taken warning. Perhaps he did.