“Lucy turns old Jim into a regular hired girl when he’s here.” John grinned at his friend.
Jim was lighting his pipe and did not show that he had heard Nannie’s remark. When he spoke it was to John.
Dimmie fell asleep in the midst of the first bedtime story, and Lucy soon left him. When she came into the dining room her mother was moving about as though searching for something.
“What is it, Mamma?” inquired Lucy.
“Why a piece of sheet music I put here on the bookcase doesn’t seem to be here. Jimmie must have moved it.”
“Let me help you find it,” offered John, jumping to his feet.
“Perhaps it’s on the piano where you were practicing this afternoon,” suggested Lucy.
Mrs. Merwent disappeared into the living room, followed by John, and a moment later the strains of Massenet’s “Ouvrez tes Yeux” floated in to the dining room.
“Sit down, Jim,” Lucy bade Sprague, who was standing with his hands in his coat pockets.
He seated himself a little distance from her.
“Well, Jim, Mamma and I are not much alike, are we?” Lucy remarked, smiling with a tired expression.
“Wait till I pinch myself,” Jim answered.
There was a brief pause.
“We’ll just have to do the best we can with things,” Lucy said, rising and averting her face as she spoke. She walked over to the mantel and arranged some flowers in a vase.
“I’m outclassed,” Jim admitted.
“Maybe it’s not for always.” She spoke consolingly, looking at the floor and continuing to smile determinedly. “When people see things clearly there’s always a way, so let’s not get panicky.”
“The trouble is we don’t all see through things.” Jim shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably.
The music ceased abruptly but almost immediately began again and Nannie sang, “Vous Dansez, Marquise.”
“Give John a little time, Jim. He’ll see more than the rest of us before long,” Lucy went on, as though defending her husband from an unspoken accusation.
Jim smoked fiercely.
“I hope so,” he said at last, “but, as a rule, meeting a problem on the installment plan is pretty poor spiritual economy.”
“Lucy,” he resumed after a pause, “your mother and I had a talk before dinner.”
“I thought so.”
“Well, unless I’m greatly mistaken—” Jim hesitated.
The music had stopped.
“Lucy, why don’t you and Jim come in and listen?” John stood in the doorway.
Mrs. Merwent’s laugh tinkled from the other room.
“John, you dear silly boy!” she called. “You should allow people to enjoy themselves in their own way.”
“I was just going back to town,” announced Jim, standing up. Lucy stared at him with a surprised expression.
At this juncture Nannie appeared in the doorway behind John. Both entered the dining room.
“Why what do you mean, Jim?” John inquired.
“I’ve got to get to the office early tomorrow.”
“I thought Mr. Sprague always spent the night,” remarked Nannie. “Lucy showed me his room.”
“He does,” declared John, and turned to Jim. “You’ll have plenty of time in the morning. We’ll take the six forty.”
“I must look over the specifications for those houses, and they’re in my room.”
“Well, if you must, you must,” John agreed, “but why didn’t you say so before?”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Merwent,” Jim said, ignoring John’s question. “Good night, Lucy.” They shook hands.
“I’ll go to the station with you,” John offered.
“No,” declined Jim. “No need. I’ve just time to catch the nine five. Good night.” He went into the hall and seized his hat from the rack.
“Good night,” called John. “See you in the morning.”
Dimmie, awakened by the noise in the hall, cried out, “Mamma!”
Lucy went to him.
An hour later she heard John and her mother tiptoeing up the stairs, trying to avoid disturbing her.
John had breakfast early the succeeding morning as he wished to reach the office simultaneously with Jim. When Mrs. Merwent came downstairs it was already close to the lunch hour and she asked to have her breakfast in the kitchen so that she might talk to Lucy who was at work there.
“Your friend, Mr. Sprague, doesn’t like me,” Mrs. Merwent began as she buttered her toast contemplatively.
“Why, Mamma, I don’t see what makes you say that.” Lucy measured some flour.
“Do you mean you didn’t notice what he said after dinner about parents being in secret competition with their children?”
“Yes, I heard that, but he was speaking generally. He was probably not thinking about you at all.”
“No, he doesn’t consider me intellectual enough to be worth thinking about. Professor Walsh is a great deal better educated than Mr. Sprague, so I guess I can console myself with the fact that he does find me worth talking to.”
Lucy referred again to her recipe book.
“Really, Mamma, you have no reason to feel this way. I’m sure Jim was as attentive to you as you let him be.”
“Well, it was mere politeness. He wasn’t at all interested in anything I said.”
“I’m sure I don’t know how you know. He listened to everything you said to him. Of course he doesn’t know any of the people you talked about, and he isn’t good at small talk, and besides you talked almost entirely to John, but I thought he was very nice.”
“Very patronizing, you mean, Lucy. I can see very plainly that he has a low opinion of women—except you, of course. He seemed anxious enough to talk to you.”
“Mamma, I wish you wouldn’t speak that way.”
“Speak what way?”
Lucy paused in her task and gazed steadily at her mother.
“You know perfectly well, Mamma. The reason he talked to me was that you wished it, and besides I ask you not to talk about Jim in that tone.”
“Well, anyone could see that he was crazy to be with you,” Nannie began angrily.
“Mamma!” Lucy was indignant.
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears.
“Why, Lucy, I don’t see how you can twist my words so. I didn’t mean there was anything between you.”
Lucy gasped.
“Who said you did?” she ejaculated, articulating with difficulty. “I only meant that you were unjust to Jim.”
Mrs. Merwent continued to regard her daughter reproachfully.
“You don’t know him, Mamma. He’s the very best kind of a man,” Lucy
