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Updated: June 18, 2025
Spence made a remark sotto voce which should, in the ordinary course of events, have remained a secret. "Susan," he said, "your friend Miss Leffingwell is a fascinator. She's got Robert's scalp, too, and he thought it a pretty good joke because I offered to teach her to play golf this afternoon." It appeared that Susan's eyes could flash indignantly. Perhaps she resented Mr.
Spence; "it has been so long since you were here, and we have made many changes." "And you, Mademoiselle," said the Vicomte to Honora, you will come yes? You are interested in landscape?" "I love the country," said Honora. "It is a pleasure to have a guest who is so appreciative," said Mrs. Holt. "Miss Leffingwell was up at seven this morning, and in the garden with my husband."
Randolph Leffingwell gave the impression of conferring a favour when he borrowed money. I cannot understand why he married that penniless and empty-headed beauty." "Perhaps," said Mrs. Hayden, "it was because of his ability to borrow money that he felt he could afford to." The eyes of the two ladies unconsciously followed Honora about the room.
"The title," replied Anne Leffingwell, indicating a line of insignificant lettering, "is 'Swedish Wedding Feast." "Wedding feast," he repeated thoughtfully, looking from the picture to his companion. "Well," he raised an imaginary glass high, "prosit omen!" The meaning was not to be mistaken. "Well, really," she began indignantly. "If you are going to take advantage "
He asked her a few questions about Miss Turner's school, but it was not until she had admired the mass of peonies in the centre of the table that his eyes brightened, and he smiled. "You like flowers?" he asked. "I love them," slid Honora. "I am the gardener here," he said. "You must see my garden, Miss Leffingwell. I am in it by half-past six every morning, rain or shine."
Let us say it boldly she was like that: she had the world-old knack of sowing discord and despair in the souls of young men. She was as those who had known that fascinating gentleman were not slow to remark Randolph Leffingwell over again. During the festival seasons, Uncle Tom averred, they wore out the latch on the front gate.
"Oh, haven't you, just!" exclaimed Mrs. Phillips joyously. "Your name as an entertainer will be all over town! I'm sure you gave some of those poky people a real touch of novelty!" Amy Leffingwell was in the front hall at the same time, with her music- roll. They were going the same way, to substantially the same place, to meet about the same hour in the day's schedule.
It was Peter Erwin, and he was a favourite in the bank, where he had been introduced by Mr. Leffingwell himself. He was an orphan and lived with his grandmother, an impoverished old lady with good blood in her veins who boarded in Graham's Row, on Olive Street. Suffice it to add, at this time, that he worshipped Mr. Leffingwell, and that he was back in a twinkling with the information that Mr.
"He's the finest brute I ever laid eyes on. Sech power an' sech action. I noticed him at once, when Mason come ridin' up. S'pose we jest take the hoss and send the boy on." "A hoss like that would be knowed," protested the woman. "What if sojers come lookin' fur him!" "We could run him off in the hills an' keep him there a while," said Leffingwell.
That dinner set, somehow, was always an augury of festival when, on the rare occasions Aunt Mary entertained, the little dining room was transformed by it and the Leffingwell silver into a glorified and altogether unrecognizable state, in which any miracle seemed possible. Honora pushed back her chair. Her lips were parted. "Oh, Aunt Mary, is it really true that I am going?" she said.
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