Part 22 (2/2)
”George,” said Mrs. Vincent Benedict, ”I want you to do something for me.”
”Certainly, mother, anything I can.”
”Well, it's only to go to dinner with me to-night. Our pastor's wife has telephoned me that she wants us very much. She especially emphasized you.
She said she absolutely needed you. It was a case of charity, and she would be so grateful to you if you would come. She has a young friend with her who is very sad, and she wants to cheer her up. Now don't frown. I won't bother you again this week. I know you hate dinners and girls. But really, George, this is an unusual case. The girl is just home from Europe, and buried her grandmother yesterday. She hasn't a soul in the world belonging to her that can be with her, and the pastor's wife has asked her over to dinner quietly. Of course she isn't going out. She must be in mourning. And you know you're fond of the doctor.”
”Yes, I'm fond of the doctor,” said George, frowning discouragedly; ”but I'd rather take him alone, and not with a girl flung at me everlastingly.
I'm tired of it. I didn't think it of Christian people, though; I thought she was above such things.”
”Now, George,” said his mother severely, ”that's a real insult to the girl, and to our friend too. She hasn't an idea of doing any such thing.
It seems this girl is quite unusual, very religious, and our friend thought you would be just the one to cheer her. She apologized several times for presuming to ask you to help her. You really will have to go.”
”Well, who is this paragon, anyway? Any one I know? I s'pose I've got to go.”
”Why, she's a Miss Bailey,” said the mother, relieved. ”Mrs. Wilton Merrill Bailey's granddaughter. Did you ever happen to meet her? I never did.”
”Never heard of her,” growled George. ”Wish I hadn't now.”
”George!”
”Well, mother, go on. I'll be good. What does she do? Dance, and play bridge, and sing?”
”I haven't heard anything that she does,” said his mother, laughing.
”Well, of course she's a paragon; they all are, mother. I'll be ready in half an hour. Let's go and get it done. We can come home early, can't we?”
Mrs. Benedict sighed. If only George would settle down on some suitable girl of good family! But he was so queer and restless. She was afraid for him. Ever since she had taken him away to Europe, when she was so ill, she had been afraid for him. He seemed so moody and absent-minded then and afterwards. Now this Miss Bailey was said to be as beautiful as she was good. If only George would take a notion to her!
Elizabeth was sitting in a great arm-chair by the open fire when he entered the room. He had not expected to find any one there. He heard voices up-stairs, and supposed Miss Bailey was talking with her hostess.
His mother followed the servant to remove her wraps, and he entered the drawing-room alone. She stirred, looked up, and saw him.
”Elizabeth!” he said, and came forward to grasp her hand. ”I have found you again. How came you here?”
But she had no opportunity to answer, for the ladies entered almost at once, and there stood the two smiling at each other.
”Why, you have met before!” exclaimed the hostess. ”How delighted I am! I knew you two would enjoy meeting. Elizabeth, child, you never told me you knew George.”
George Benedict kept looking around for Miss Bailey to enter the room; but to his relief she did not come, and, when they went out to the dining-room, there was no place set for her. She must have preferred to remain at home. He forgot her, and settled down to the joy of having Elizabeth by his side. His mother, opposite, watched his face blossom into the old-time joy as he handed this new girl the olives, and had eyes for no one else.
It was to Elizabeth a blessed evening. They held sweet converse one with another as children of the King. For a little time under the old influence of the restful, helpful talk she forgot ”the lady,” and all the perplexing questions that had vexed her soul. She knew only that she had entered into an atmosphere of peace and love and joy.
It was not until the evening was over, and the guests were about to leave, that Mrs. Benedict addressed Elizabeth as Miss Bailey. Up to that moment it had not entered her son's mind that Miss Bailey was present at all. He turned with a start, and looked into Elizabeth's eyes; and she smiled back to him as if to acknowledge the name. Could she read his thoughts? he wondered.
It was only a few steps across the Square, and Mrs. Benedict and her son walked to Elizabeth's door with her. He had no opportunity to speak to Elizabeth alone, but he said as he bade her good-night, ”I shall see you to-morrow, then, in the morning?”
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