第70章

"Yes?" Mrs. Palmer said, good-naturedly, to prompt her. "Your father and I did something embarrassing?""Mama, it was because of those things that came out about Alice Adams.""How could that bother Arthur? Does he know her?""Don't you remember?" the daughter asked. "The day after my dance I mentioned how odd I thought it was in him--I was a little disappointed in him. I'd been seeing that he met everybody, of course, but she was the only girl HE asked to meet; and he did it as soon as he noticed her. I hadn't meant to have him meet her--in fact, I was rather sorry I'd felt I had to ask her, because she oh, well, she's the sort that 'tries for the new man,' if she has half a chance; and sometimes they seem quite fascinated --for a time, that is. I thought Arthur was above all that; or at the very least I gave him credit for being too sophisticated.""I see," Mrs. Palmer said, thoughtfully. "I remember now that you spoke of it. You said it seemed a little peculiar, but of course it really wasn't: a 'new man' has nothing to go by, except his own first impressions. You can't blame poor Arthur--she's quite a piquant looking little person. You think he's seen something of her since then?"Mildred nodded slowly. "I never dreamed such a thing till yesterday, and even then I rather doubted it--till he got so red, just now! I was surprised when he asked to meet her, but he just danced with her once and didn't mention her afterward; I forgot all about it--in fact, I virtually forgot all about HER. I'd seen quite a little of her----""Yes," said Mrs. Palmer. "She did keep coming here!""But I'd just about decided that it really wouldn't do," Mildred went on. "She isn't--well, I didn't admire her.""No," her mother assented, and evidently followed a direct connection of thought in a speech apparently irrelevant. "Iunderstand the young Malone wants to marry Henrietta. I hope she won't; he seems rather a gross type of person.""Oh, he's just one," Mildred said. "I don't know that he and Alice Adams were ever engaged--she never told me so. She may not have been engaged to any of them; she was just enough among the other girls to get talked about--and one of the reasons I felt a little inclined to be nice to her was that they seemed to be rather edging her out of the circle. It wasn't long before I saw they were right, though. I happened to mention I was going to give a dance and she pretended to take it as a matter of course that I meant to invite her brother--at least, I thought she pretended; she may have really believed it. At any rate, I had to send him a card; but I didn't intend to be let in for that sort of thing again, of course. She's what you said, 'pushing';though I'm awfully sorry you said it."

"Why shouldn't I have said it, my dear?"

"Of course I didn't say 'shouldn't.' " Mildred explained, gravely. "I meant only that I'm sorry it happened.""Yes; but why?"

"Mama"--Mildred turned to her, leaning forward and speaking in a lowered voice--"Mama, at first the change was so little it seemed as if Arthur hardly knew it himself. He'd been lovely to me always, and he was still lovely to me but--oh, well, you've understood--after my dance it was more as if it was just his nature and his training to be lovely to me, as he would be to everyone a kind of politeness. He'd never said he CARED for me, but after that I could see he didn't. It was clear--after that.

I didn't know what had happened; I couldn't think of anything I'd done. Mama--it was Alice Adams."Mrs. Palmer set her little coffee-cup upon the table beside her, calmly following her own motion with her eyes, and not seeming to realize with what serious entreaty her daughter's gaze was fixed upon her. Mildred repeated the last sentence of her revelation, and introduced a stress of insistence.

"Mama, it WAS Alice Adams!"

But Mrs. Palmer declined to be greatly impressed, so far as her appearance went, at least; and to emphasize her refusal, she smiled indulgently. "What makes you think so?""Henrietta told me yesterday."

At this Mrs. Palmer permitted herself to laugh softly aloud.

"Good heavens! Is Henrietta a soothsayer? Or is she Arthur's particular confidante?""No. Ella Dowling told her."

Mrs. Palmer's laughter continued. "Now we have it!" she exclaimed. "It's a game of gossip: Arthur tells Ella, Ella tells Henrietta, and Henrietta tells----""Don't laugh, please, mama," Mildred begged. "Of course Arthur didn't tell anybody. It's roundabout enough, but it's true. Iknow it! I hadn't quite believed it, but I knew it was true when he got so red. He looked--oh, for a second or so he looked --stricken! He thought I didn't notice it. Mama, he's been to see her almost every evening lately. They take long walks together. That's why he hasn't been here."Of Mrs. Palmer's laughter there was left only her indulgent smile, which she had not allowed to vanish. "Well, what of it?"she said.

"Mama!"

"Yes," said Mrs. Palmer. "What of it?"

"But don't you see?" Mildred's well-tutored voice, though modulated and repressed even in her present emotion, nevertheless had a tendency to quaver. "It's true. Frank Dowling was going to see her one evening and he saw Arthur sitting on the stoop with her, and didn't go in. And Ella used to go to school with a girl who lives across the street from here. She told Ella----""Oh, I understand," Mrs. Palmer interrupted. "Suppose he does go there. My dear, I said, 'What of it?'""I don't see what you mean, mama. I'm so afraid he might think we knew about it, and that you and papa said those things about her and her father on that account--as if we abused them because he goes there instead of coming here.""Nonsense!" Mrs. Palmer rose, went to a window, and, turning there, stood with her back to it, facing her daughter and looking at her cheerfully. "Nonsense, my dear! It was perfectly clear that she was mentioned by accident, and so was her father. What an extraordinary man! If Arthur makes friends with people like that, he certainly knows better than to expect to hear favourable opinions of them. Besides, it's only a little passing thing with him.""Mama! When he goes there almost every----""Yes," Mrs. Palmer said, dryly. "It seems to me I've heard somewhere that other young men have gone there 'almost every!'

She doesn't last, apparently. Arthur's gallant, and he's impressionable-- but he's fastidious, and fastidiousness is always the check on impressionableness. A girl belongs to her family, too--and this one does especially, it strikes me!

Arthur's very sensible; he sees more than you'd think."Mildred looked at her hopefully. "Then you don't believe he's likely to imagine we said those things of her in any meaning way?"At this, Mrs. Palmer laughed again. "There's one thing you seem not to have noticed, Mildred.""What's that?"

"It seems to have escaped your attention that he never said a word.""Mightn't that mean----?" Mildred began, but she stopped.

"No, it mightn't," her mother replied, comprehending easily. "On the contrary, it might mean that instead of his feeling it too deeply to speak, he was getting a little illumination."Mildred rose and came to her. "WHY do you suppose he never told us he went there? Do you think he's--do you think he's pleased with her, and yet ashamed of it? WHY do you suppose he's never spoken of it?""Ah, that," Mrs. Palmer said,--"that might possibly be her own doing. If it is, she's well paid by what your father and I said, because we wouldn't have said it if we'd known that Arthur----"She checked herself quickly. Looking over her daughter's shoulder, she saw the two gentlemen coming from the corridor toward the wide doorway of the room; and she greeted them cheerfully. "If you've finished with each other for a while,"she added, "Arthur may find it a relief to put his thoughts on something prettier than a trust company--and more fragrant."Arthur came to Mildred.

"Your mother said at lunch that perhaps you'd----""I didn't say 'perhaps,' Arthur," Mrs. Palmer interrupted, to correct him. "I said she would. If you care to see and smell those lovely things out yonder, she'll show them to you. Run along, children!"Half an hour later, glancing from a window, she saw them come from the hothouses and slowly cross the lawn. Arthur had a fine rose in his buttonhole and looked profoundly thoughtful.