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Updated: June 7, 2025
Her uncle's letter came vividly to mind and she felt suddenly that she was being led by old Townley back to clear vision. "Go on!" she whispered soothingly, seeking not to confuse the rambling wits. "Just where was old Miss Lanley's place?" Andrew laughed foolishly. "Lanley!" he pattered on. "Susie May Lanley! I reckon she was a right putty one in her day.
Lanley," he said, stooping to kiss his mother with the casual affection of the domesticated male. "You have my job." "It is a great pleasure to be of any service," said Mr. Lanley. "It was in a terrible state, it seems, Pete," said his mother. "She makes her fours just like sevens, doesn't she?" observed Pete. "I did not notice the similarity," replied Mr. Lanley. He glanced at Mrs.
Long ago, in his first year at college, he had flunked the examination of the professor whom he reverenced above all others. No one had cared, no one had long remembered, except Lanley himself, and he had remembered because some one had told him what the professor said on reading his paper. It was nothing but, "I had supposed Lanley was intelligent."
His father had often told him that he had seen with his own eyes a note of hand which had been blown, during the course of the conflagration, as far as Flatbush. And the second fire of 1845. His father had been a man then, married, a prominent citizen, old enough, as Mr. Lanley said, with a faint smile, to have lost heavily.
And then she went on: "There's another beautiful place I don't believe you know, for all you're such an old New-Yorker a pier at the foot of East Eighty-something Street, where you can almost touch great seagoing vessels as they pass." "Well, there at least we can go," said Mr. Lanley, and he stood up. "I have a car here, but it's open. Is it too cold? Have you a fur coat?
Mrs. Wayne had had a telephone message to that effect. "I wondered, if you were alone " Lanley hesitated. He had of course been going to ask her to come and dine with him, but a better inspiration came to him. "I wondered if you would ask me to dine with you." "Oh, I'm so sorry," said Mrs. Wayne, "but I can't. I have a boy coming. He's studying for the ministry, the most interesting person.
Lanley pricked up his ears like a terrier. "In love?" he exclaimed. "And who is he? Not one of the East Sussex Waynes, I hope. Vulgar people. They always were; began life as auctioneers in my father's time. Is he one of those, Adelaide?" "I have no idea who he is, if any one," said Adelaide. "I never saw or heard of him before this afternoon."
Lanley shut his eyes, resolving, since he had no idea what her own descent might be, that he would not explain to her the superior attitude of the English settlers of the eighteenth century toward their Dutch predecessors. However, perhaps he did not entirely conceal his feeling, for he said: "No, I have no Dutch blood not a drop. Very good people in their way, industrious peasants."
Not, of course, that Adelaide was more interested in Marty Burke than in her daughter's future, but a titanic struggle fired her imagination more than a pitiful little romance. She felt a pang of self-reproach when she saw that Mr. Lanley had come to share the child's vigil, that he seemed to be suffering under an anxiety almost as keen as Mathilde's.
I couldn't have been so terribly overdrawn, after all." "You ought not to overdraw at all," said Mr. Lanley, severely. "It's not fair to the bank." "Well, I never mean to," she replied, as if no one could ask more than that. Presently she left him to go and dress for dinner. He felt extraordinarily at home, left alone like this among her belongings.
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