A VISITOR
Supper at the mansion was always a rather stiff and formal affair, but on
this evening the tension was somewhat relaxed. The Misses Gates chatted
pleasantly with the girls, making them feel entirely at their ease.
The table had been laid with an elaborately embroidered tablecloth, of
good quality but slightly yellowed with age. The dishes, the cut glass,
and the silver were of the best. Two tall candles in pewter holders
lighted the room. Cora Sully, fairly presentable in white cap and apron,
brought the food in from the kitchen, but she served it in an indifferent
fashion.
“Cora really is an excellent cook,” Iris said half apologetically, when
the woman had returned to the kitchen.
“Yes, indeed,” Doris agreed quickly.
She had no fault to find with the supper, for the creamed chicken was
delicious, the biscuits light, the salad crisp and fresh. It was only
that she had taken a dislike to Cora and wondered why the Misses Gates
kept such a slouchy, sullen woman.
“Mrs. Sully has been with us for some time,” Iris continued. “She was the
daughter of our former dressmaker, but she married a man that was no
good. Undoubtedly he means well but he is shiftless, and finds it hard to
obtain work. We took them both in.”
“I see,” Doris murmured.
She scarcely knew what to reply, and Kitty was leaving the burden of the
conversation to her.
Mrs. Sully cleared away the dishes and appeared with the dessert, a
steaming rich pudding which she placed before Azalea, who served it upon
individual plates.
“Iris and I seldom indulge ourselves when we are here alone,” Azalea
remarked, “but we remember how young girls like sweets.”
“I’m afraid you have gone to a great deal of trouble on our account,”
Doris said.
“Not at all,” Azalea assured her. “It is a pleasure to have you here. We
have so few visitors.”
It seemed to Doris, who chanced to be watching Mrs. Sully, that an
irritated expression passed over her face.
“_She_ doesn’t like it because we are here,” Doris thought. “Probably
thinks we’ll make her more work!”
She picked up her dessert spoon, but before she could start eating her
pudding, there came an unexpected interruption. A loud barking and
growling grated upon the ears of the diners.
Doris and Kitty exchanged guilty glances. It was Wags!
“Gracious!” Iris murmured. “What can be the matter?”
Embarrassed, Kitty looked down at her plate.
“I’m so sorry,” Doris apologized, “but I’m afraid it must be Wags.”
“Wags?” Azalea asked, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
Doris nodded unhappily.
“He’s the cutest little brown dog you ever saw—I know you’ll just love
him! Kitty and I picked him up on the road this afternoon and brought him
along. We didn’t want to leave him out in the storm, so we tied him up
under the porch. I don’t know what set him off like that.”
Before either of the women could reply, Wags again let out a series of
savage yelps and Doris heard the sound of a man’s voice. Hastily, she
pushed back her chair.
“I’ll see what is the matter,” she said, excusing herself.
Hurrying to the door, she opened it and stared straight into the face of
the man who had made such a disturbance at the aviation meet! Wags, still
securely tied under the porch, had taken exception to the appearance of
the stranger and continued to bark excitedly.
“Be quiet, Wags!” Doris commanded.
“So that’s your mutt, eh?” the stranger asked unpleasantly. “Vicious dogs
shouldn’t be at large!”
Doris stifled a sharp retort. Now that she saw the man at close range she
was more unfavorably impressed than before. He was dressed in a new suit
of loud pattern, and carried a cane. His face was hard and cold and his
eyes had an unpleasant way of boring into one.
Before Doris could recover from her surprise, the Misses Gates came
rushing into the hall.
“I thought I recognized your voice,” Iris murmured, self-consciously.
“We were wondering if you would come tonight,” Azalea added, a tell-tale
blush creeping over her pale cheeks.
The stranger bestowed upon each a smile which to Doris seemed to fairly
drip sentiment.
“Did you think I could stay away from two such charming young ladies?” he
asked in a strangely softened voice.
Kitty, who had followed the Misses Gates into the hall, looked at her
chum in disgust. Azalea and Iris saw nothing amiss. One of them took his
hat and stick, the other his dripping coat.
Miss Azalea gazed admiringly at the cane which he bestowed upon her with
all the grace of a sleight-of-hand performer.
“How’s that?” he asked in self-satisfied tones as he twirled the stick
jauntily before handing it to the enraptured hostess.
“Oh, aren’t you clever, Ronald?”
“Well,” he shrugged his shoulders as if to appear very modest, “they do
say I’m a good entertainer.”
Iris shook the raindrops from his topcoat solicitously and hung it up to
dry on the antique coat rack in the corner.
“You know, I brought that cane over with me from Monte Carlo. That was my
lucky day. My side of the argument was right, as usual, so the cane fell
to my lot. I told the chap at the Casino how the play of a friend of mine
would come out, and of course it came out as I said it would. You
understand, ladies, that it was just a friendly little bet, nothing to
disturb one’s conscience,” hoping that these last words of his would
vindicate any doubts in their minds as to his moral standing. “A friendly
little wager,” he concluded, as with a wave of his hand he dismissed the
subject entirely.
For a minute or two they were so excited and flustered that they entirely
forgot the presence of the two girls. Recovering herself, Azalea turned
to introduce them.
“Doris,” she said, beaming happily, “I am sure this will be a pleasant
surprise for you. May I present Ronald Trent, the son of your long-lost
uncle?”
“Pleased to meet ’chu,’” the stranger mumbled.
Doris managed a perfunctory reply, but she really was too stunned to
consider what she was saying. She could not believe that she had heard
correctly, and after Kitty had acknowledged the introduction, she turned
to Azalea.
“Did I understand you to say Mr. Trent is a relative of mine?”
“Sure, your cousin,” the man broke in, before Azalea could answer. “Don’t
worry, kid. You and me will hit it off together.”
Doris could not trust herself to reply. She glanced toward Kitty and saw
the puzzled look in her eyes. What must her chum think!
“That man my cousin!” she thought dismally. “Oh, dear, I wish I hadn’t
found it out.”
“Well, we had a heavy shower, girlies,” boomed the new arrival as he
adjusted his glaring tie carefully, “but I found a chummy roadhouse with
a big welcome during the heaviest thunder. I certainly enjoy good
company.” He smacked his lips thoughtfully.
Kitty carefully kept her eyes turned away from her embarrassed chum. This
was an unexpected turn to events. She was more surprised and worried at
meeting this flashy stranger than she cared to have the group know.
Reared in a refined and cultured environment, she feared her family might
call her away at once, if they should become aware of the fact that such
a man as this one were to spend any time in the company of the girls. She
pictured the faculty at Barry Manor as being highly shocked and amazed
should anybody tell them that these two pupils were spending their
vacation in a place where they were obliged to associate with a person of
the type of Ronald Trent. Would she have to desert her friend and leave
for home on account of the sudden appearance of this relative of Doris?
Kitty pondered this matter seriously in her mind.
Doris was equally worried in her own way.