“Yes,” replied Victoria, simply, “the baths helped her. But I'm glad to get back,—I like my own country so much better,—and especially this part of it,” she added. “I can bear to be away from New York in the winter, but not from Fairview in the summer.”
At this instant Mr. Jenney appeared at the barn door bearing a huge green umbrella.
“Come over to the house—Mis' Jenney is expectin' you,” he said.
Victoria hesitated. To refuse would be ungracious; moreover, she could risk no misinterpretation of her acts, and she accepted. Mrs. Jenney met her on the doorstep, and conducted her into that sanctum reserved for occasions, the parlour, with its Bible, its flat, old-fashioned piano, its samplers, its crayon portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Jenney after their honeymoon; with its aroma that suggested Sundays and best manners. Mrs. Jenney, with incredible rapidity (for her figure was not what it had been at the time of the crayon portrait), had got into a black dress, over which she wore a spotless apron. She sat in the parlour with her guest until Mr. Jenney reappeared with shining face and damp hair.
“You'll excuse me, my dear,” said Mrs. Jenney, “but the supper's on the stove, and I have to run out now and then.”
Mr. Jenney was entertaining. He had the shrewd, humorous outlook upon life characteristic of the best type of New England farmer, and Victoria got along with him famously. His comments upon his neighbours were kindly but incisive, except when the question of spirituous liquors occurred to him. Austen Vane he thought the world of, and dwelt upon this subject a little longer than Victoria, under the circumstances, would have wished.
“He comes out here just like it was home,” said Mr. Jenney, “and helps with the horses and cows the same as if he wasn't gettin' to be one of the greatest lawyers in the State.”
“O dear, Mr. Jenney,” said Victoria, glancing out of the window, “I'll really have to go home. I'm sure it won't stop raining for hours. But I shall be perfectly dry in my rain-coat,—no matter how much you may despise it.”
“You're not a-going to do anything of the kind,” cried Mrs. Jenney from the doorway. “Supper's all ready, and you're going to walk right in.”
“Oh, I really have to go,” Victoria exclaimed.