Part 11 (1/2)

”Ah!” intoned Mrs. Van Duser, majestically transferring her attention from the daring robin to Elizabeth's crimson face.

”Samuel has neglected to call upon me since his return to Boston,” was Mrs. Van Duser's next remark, delivered in an awe-inspiring contralto; ”though it is evident that he owes me an acknowledgment of his present good fortune.”

Elizabeth fixed round eyes of astonishment upon her visitor. ”I can't think what you mean,” she exclaimed unguardedly.

”And yet I find you here, in this sylvan spot, far removed from the follies and temptations of your former position, and--I trust--prospering in a modest way.”

”Thank you,” murmured Elizabeth, pink with indignation, ”we are getting on very well.”

”What rent do you pay?”

Elizabeth looked about rather wildly, as if searching for a way of escape. The robin had swallowed his latest find with an air of huge satisfaction, and now flew away with a ringing summons to his mate. ”We pay thirty dollars, Mrs. Van Duser,” she said slowly, ”by the month.”

”Um! Why don't you buy the place?”

”I don't think--I'm sure we--couldn't--” hesitated Elizabeth.

”You are wrong,” said Mrs. Van Duser, again raising her lorgnette to her eyes; ”if you can afford to pay three hundred and sixty dollars in rent you can afford to own a home, and you should do so. Tell Samuel I said so.”

”Yes, Mrs. Van Duser,” murmured Elizabeth in a depressed monotone.

”Do you keep a maid?”

”No, Mrs. Van Duser, I do my own housework.” Elizabeth's brown eyes sparkled defiantly as she added, ”I was brought up to work, and I like to do it.”

Mrs. Van Duser's large solemn countenance relaxed into a smile as she gazed into the ingenuous young face at her side.

”Ah, my dear,” she sighed, ”I envy you your happiness, though I had it myself once upon a time. I don't often speak of those days, but John Van Duser was a poor man when I married him, and we lived in a little house not unlike this, and I did the cooking. Do you think you could give me a cup of tea, my dear?”