Part 12 (1/2)
”All right. Give me five minutes' warning. You can twirl your thumbs, when it is time for me to start; but I am bound to see some of the fun.”
”Now, children, you must be good,” Beatrix implored them hurriedly.
”Bobby, do try to talk about something she can understand.”
”If you want to condemn me to the conversational limits of a mummy, say so in plain Saxon,” he retorted. ”How can I talk about something that doesn't exist?”
”Bobby!” Sally's tone was full of warning, as Beatrix rose to meet her guest.
Mrs. Lloyd Avalons had gained one distinct point in her social training.
She had learned to cross a room as if she were doing her hostess a favor by appearing. Even Beatrix was impressed by the swift, dainty sweep with which she came forward, and she cast a hasty thought to the quality of her tea. Bobby, meanwhile, was taking mental stock of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons's tailor and deciding that he could give points to his own fellow. For a person who professed to ignore all such detail, Bobby Dane was singularly critical of feminine dress, as Beatrix had learned to her cost.
Seated by the tea-table, balancing a Sevres cup in her hand, Mrs. Lloyd Avalons appeared to be casting about in her mind for a subject of conversation. Bobby came to her relief.
”When you appeared, Mrs. Avalons, we were just speaking of mummies. Have you seen the latest importation at the Metropolitan?”
”Mr. Dane!” she remonstrated hastily. ”Do you suppose I--”
”Certainly,” Bobby a.s.sured her gravely. ”I often spend an hour looking at them, and I always feel the better for the time pa.s.sed in their society. They remind me of the futility of earthly things, and inspire me to higher aims.”
Mrs. Lloyd Avalons smiled faintly.
”You literary people have strange thoughts,” she observed, addressing the room at large. ”I have often thought I should like to write, if I only had the time.”
”Why don't you?” Bobby inquired blandly. ”The result would be sure to be interesting.”
But Beatrix interposed.
”Are you as busy as ever, Mrs. Avalons?”
”Busier. It is such a bore to be in this perpetual rush; but I can't seem to help it. Lent didn't bring me any rest, this year; and, now that Easter is over, it seems to me that we are more gay than ever.”
”That is the penalty of having an early Easter,” Sally suggested. ”We had to stop for Lent in the middle of the season, and now we are finis.h.i.+ng up the sins of which we have already repented.”
”Oh--yes,” Mrs. Lloyd Avalons responded blankly.
”Can you get all your arrears of penitence done up in six weeks, Sally?”
Bobby asked, as he pa.s.sed her the almonds.
”Yes, if I've not seen too much of you,” she returned. ”Mrs. Avalons, when are you going to give us another recital?”
Mrs. Lloyd Avalons rose to the cast.
”Wasn't that a success? Mr. Thayer quite covered himself with glory.”
”His mantle fell over some of the rest of us, and we gained l.u.s.tre from his glory.” Sally's tone was slightly malicious.
”He is certainly a great artist, and I am proud to have discovered him.”
”But I thought Mrs. Stanley discovered him. He sang for her first.”