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An eternity of minutes later, riding down-town through the late afternoon beside Warren, the others following in Roberta's car close behind, Bernice had all the sensations of Marie Antoinette bound for the guillotine in a tumbrel. Vaguely she wondered why she did not cry out that it was all a mistake.
Then, before he knew it, it was done, and he and she were rising from their knees, and there were smiles and pleasant murmurings all about them and little Ruth was sobbing softly with her cheek against his! It was here that he became conscious again of the family Roberta's family, and of what it meant to have such people as these welcome him into their circle.
Late in the afternoon, something was needed to complete Roberta's preparations which could be procured only in a downtown shop, and Ruth volunteered to order the brougham now on runners and go down for it. She left the house alone, but she did not complete her journey alone, for halfway down the two-mile boulevard she passed a figure she knew, and turned to bestow a girlish bow and smile.
And, of course, that settled the chance of Richard's hearing anything about Roberta's teaching, for, though Judge Gray was called out of the room in the midst of his story, Stephen and Louis came up and joined the group and switched the talk a thousand miles away from schools and school-teaching. Presently there was music again, and this time Richard found himself sitting beside young Mrs.
Still more coldly she replied: "I fear there can be no friendship between us. My father and brothers lie in nameless graves in your proud and triumphant North, and my heart and hope are buried with them. My mother has since died, broken-hearted; Roberta's husband, the colonel you sent to prison, is a crippled soldier, and both are so impoverished that they know not how to live.
"If you please," said Roberta but the engine was blowing off steam and no one heard her. "If you please, Mr. Engineer," she spoke a little louder, but the Engine happened to speak at the same moment, and of course Roberta's soft little voice hadn't a chance. It seemed to her that the only way would be to climb on to the engine and pull at their coats.
On his way up, walking cautiously on account of the cups of smoking bouillon which he was concerned lest he spill, he encountered a rose-coloured brocade frock on its way down. "Good for you, Mr. Kendrick," hailed Roberta's voice, full and sweet. He paused, balancing his tray. "Why are you going down? Won't you let me bring up yours when I've given this to Unc to Mr. and Mrs. Rufus Gray?"
"When we were young," Miss La Sarthe remarked severely, "our Mamma would never have allowed us to know any divorced person and, indeed, our good Queen Victoria would never have received one at her Court. We cannot possibly call, Roberta." Poor Miss Roberta's face fell. She had been secretly much elated by the thoughts of a neighbor, and to have all her hopes thus nipped in the bud was painful.
Horses, three of them, saddled and tied to a fence; at one side, in an attitude of arrested attention, a girl's figure in riding dress. A wave of colour surged over Roberta's face as she picked up the picture to examine it. She had never thought again of the shot he had snapped; he had never brought it to her.
"Please don't be sarcastic," laughed Betty, for Roberta's belongings were all as trim and tailor-made as herself. "How did you get your cold?" "Why K. and I got caught in a miserable little snow flurry," explained Roberta, pulling the pink shawl closer, "and I got my feet wet. My throat's horribly sore. It won't be well for a week, and I can't try for the play."
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