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Sandworth was concentrating on sartorial details as much of her mind as was ever under control at one time, and, called upon for a development of her theory, was even more vague than usual. "Oh, I don't know about what everybody cares about." "She's likely to learn, if it's at all catching," conjectured the doctor grimly, looking around the large, handsome room.
She was enormously, incredibly busy, and on the whole, she hoped, successfully so. The receptions, at least, went off very well, everybody said. Dr. Melton did not see his goddaughter again until he came with Mrs. Sandworth to the last of these events. She was looking singularly handsome at that time, her color high, her eyes very large and dark, almost black, so dilated were the pupils.
The newcomer was half-way across the room before he saw Lydia. He stopped, with a look of extreme pleasure and surprise, which Lydia answered with a frank smile. "Why, have you met my niece?" asked Mrs. Sandworth, looking from one to the other. "Oh, yes; Mr. Rankin's my oldest new friend in Endbury. I met him the first day I was back." "And when I set up the newel-post "
"Julia," he said solemnly, "did you ever consider how many kinds of murder aren't mentioned in the statute books?" "Marius! What ideas! Remember Lydia!" "Oh, I remember Lydia!" he said soberly. He went to lay a hand fondly on her shoulder. "Are you really going, my dear? I'll walk along to the waiting-room with you." "Don't talk her to death!" cried Mrs. Sandworth after them.
"No, no; I can't see him ? I can't stand any more tell him I guess I'll be all right it's settled now Mother's told all these I like Paul. I do like him! Mother's told everybody here no, no I can't, Aunt Julia! I can't!" Mrs. Sandworth, her eyes full of tears, opened her arms impulsively, but Lydia drew back. "Oh, let me alone!" she wailed. "I'm so tired!"
When they reached the house in Bellevue, Lydia was still in a heavy stupor, so Mrs. Sandworth told them, showing no surprise at Rankin's appearance. The two men sat down outside the door of her room to wait. It was a long hour they passed there. Rankin sat silent, holding on his knee little Ariadne, who amused herself quietly with his watch and the leather strap that held it.
That's just what I meant," broke in the doctor. "Well, I'm a near relative of my great-aunt's. One day, when all the rest of the family was away, she set fire to the house and burned it to the ground, with everything in it." "She didn't!" broke in Mrs. Sandworth, who had been coaxed to a fitful attention by the promise of a coherent story. Rankin laughed.
"Well, anyhow," said her mother, "since everybody's giving you card-parties, I should think you'd want to practice up and learn how to deal better. It's queer," she went on to Mrs. Sandworth, "Lydia's so deft about so many things, that she should deal cards so badly." "Oh, goodness! As if there was nothing better to do than that!" cried Lydia, beginning on the other glove.
Sandworth had pointed out, was a prerequisite of self-expression under the circumstances. They heard: 'For over a month and the sleeves were too see you again at Mrs. Elliott's I'm pouring there from four I've got to dismiss one with plum-colored bows all along five dollars a week and the washing out and still impossible!
"She's been a plague spot in this town for years that lower-middle-class old Briton, with her beastly ideas of caste ever since she began sending out her daughter to preach her damnable gospel to defenseless Endbury homes." "Marius my dear!" chided Mrs. Sandworth "The Gospel damnable! You forget yourself!" The doctor did not laugh.
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