Part 3 (1/2)

”Isn't! Oh, Mother! Oh, Mother, does he feel so badly about Betty?”

”I suppose so!” Mrs. Paget went on with her bread cutting.

”But, Mother, surely he didn't expect to marry Betty Forsythe?”

”I don't know why not, Mark. She's a sweet little thing.”

”But, Mother--” Margaret was a little at a loss. ”We don't seem old enough to really be getting married!” she said, a little lamely.

”Brucie came in about half-past five, and said he was going over to Richie's,” Mrs. Paget said, with a sigh.

”In all this rain--that long walk!” Margaret e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as she filled a long wicker basket with sliced bread.

”I think an evening of work with Richie will do him a world of good,”

said his mother. There was a pause. ”There's Dad. I'll go in,” she said, suddenly ending it, as the front door slammed.

Margaret went in, too, to kiss her father; a tired-looking, gray haired man close to fifty, who had taken her chair by the fire. Mrs.

Paget was anxious to be a.s.sured that his shoulders and shoes were not damp.

”But your hands are icy, Daddy,” said she, as she sat down behind a smoking tureen at the head of the table. ”Come, have your nice hot soup, dear. Pa.s.s that to Dad, Becky, and light the other gas. What sort of a day?”

”A hard day,” said Mr. Paget, heavily. ”Here, one of you girls put Baby into his chair. Let go, Bob,--I'm too tired to-night for monkey s.h.i.+nes!” He sat down stiffly. ”Where's Bruce? Can't that boy remember what time we have dinner?”

”Bruce is going to have supper with Richie Williams, Dad,” said Mrs.

Paget, serenely. ”They'll get out their blue prints afterwards and have a good evening's work. Fill the gla.s.ses before you sit down, Ju.

Come, Ted--put that back on the mantel.--Come, Becky! Tell Daddy about what happened to-day, Mark--”

They all drew up their chairs. Robert, recently graduated from a high chair, was propped upon ”The Officers of the Civil War,” and ”The Household Book of Verse.” Julie tied on his bib, and kissed the back of his fat little neck, before she slipped into her own seat. The mother sat between Ted and Duncan, for reasons that immediately became obvious. Margaret sat by her father, and attended to his needs, telling him all about the day, and laying her pretty slim hand over his as it rested beside his plate. The chops and cream gravy, as well as a mountain of baked potatoes, and various vegetables, were under discussion, when every one stopped short in surprise at hearing the doorbell ring.

”Who--?” said Margaret, turning puzzled brows to her mother, and ”I'm sure I--” her mother answered, shaking her head. Ted was heard to mutter uneasily that, gee, maybe it was old Pembroke, mad because the fellers had soaked his old skate with s...o...b..a.l.l.s; Julie dimpled and said, ”Maybe it's flowers!” Robert shouted, ”Bakeryman!” more because he had recently acquired the word than because of any conviction on the subject. In the end Julie went to the door, with the four children in her wake. When she came back, she looked bewildered, and the children a little alarmed.

”It's--it's Mrs. Carr-Boldt, Mother,” said Julie.

”Well, don't leave her standing there in the cold, dear!” Mrs. Paget said, rising quickly, to go into the hall. Margaret, her heart thumping with an una.n.a.lyzed premonition of something pleasant, and nervous, too, for the hospitality of the Pagets, followed her. So they were all presently crowded into the hall, Mrs. Paget all hospitality, Margaret full of a fear she would have denied that her mother would not be equal to the occasion, the children curious, Julie a little embarra.s.sed.

The visitor, fur-clad, rain-spattered,--for it was raining again,--and beaming, stretched a hand to Mrs. Paget.

”You're Mrs. Paget, of course,--this is an awful hour to interrupt you,” she said in her big, easy way, ”and there's my Miss Paget,--how do you do? But you see I must get up to town to-night--in this door? I can see perfectly, thank you!--and I did want a little talk with you first. Now, what a shame!”--for the gas, lighted by Theodore at this point, revealed Duncan's bib, and the napkins some of the others were still carrying. ”I've interrupted your dinner! Won't you let me wait here until--”

”Perhaps--if you haven't had your supper--you will have some with us,”

said Mrs. Paget, a little uncertainly. Margaret inwardly shuddered, but Mrs. Carr-Boldt was gracious.

”Mrs. Paget, that's charming of you,” she said. ”But I had tea at Dayton, and mustn't lose another moment. I shan't dine until I get home. I'm the busiest woman in the world, you know. Now, it won't take me two minutes--”

She was seated now, her hands still deep in her m.u.f.f, for the parlor was freezing cold. Mrs. Paget, with a rather bewildered look, sat down, too.

”You can run back to your dinners,” said she to the children. ”Take them, Julie. Mark, dear, will you help the pudding?” They all filed dutifully out of the room, and Margaret, excited and curious, continued a meal that might have been of sawdust and sand for all she knew. The strain did not last long; in about ten minutes Mrs. Paget looked into the room, with a rather worried expression, and said, a little breathlessly:--

”Daddy, can you come here a moment?--You're all right, dear,” she added, as Mr. Paget indicated with an embarra.s.sed gesture his well worn house-coat. They went out together. The young people sat almost without speaking, listening to the indistinguishable murmur from the adjoining room, and smiling mysteriously at each other. Then Margaret was called, and went as far as the dining-room door, and came back to put her napkin uncertainly down at her place, hesitated, arranged her gown carefully, and finally went out again. They heard her voice with the others in the parlor... questioning... laughing.