David leaned against the wall, his tired eyes resting fondly on the
garden where his children had romped. He was telling Mrs. Ascott the
origin of the summer house--that he had built as a surprise for his
wife, the spring she went to visit Lary in Ithaca, his first year
in college. In those days Sylvia was the honey-pot for a swarm of
students, and an occasional mature man, and a folding tea table in an
outdoor living-room covered with kudzu and crimson rambler was an added
attraction. Lavinia joined them, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes
ablaze with animation.
“You are going to be compelled to get along without me for a few weeks,
Mrs. Ascott. My husband is sick and tired of seeing me around, and he’s
going to bundle me up and send me home to my own people. It’s the first
trip I’ve had in years ... always tied down to home and my children. Is
there anyone in Rochester you’d like to send a message to? I haven’t
seen dear old New York state since I left there, twenty-eight years ago
next November.”
“Why, Vine, I was just telling Mrs. Ascott about building the little
summer house for you, when you went to see Lary.”
Lavinia Trench flushed, not the slow red that betokened deep wrath,
but a light wave of crimson that swallowed up the hectic spots in her
cheeks, that tinged the hollow of her temples and the taut skin of her
high and slightly receding forehead. It was gone in an instant, leaving
in its wash a strained look of embarrassment.
“I never think of that as a visit. I went in such a hurry--and then
I didn’t have time to go over to Bromfield, because ... you wrote me
that Sylvia had a cold and Robert had sprained his wrist. I never go
away from home without something dreadful happening. I wonder what
Sylvia will say when she gets my telegram to-night. I hope she won’t be
frightened.”
“You are going to telegraph Sylvia? What for?”
“I want her to look after the children while I’m gone.”
“You aren’t taking them with you--after promising Eileen that she might
spend the summer with her cousin, Alice Larimore?”
“A nice rest I would have--dragging two children around with me!”
“They don’t need to have their bottles fixed.” David smiled in spite
of his perplexity. “I had counted on this summer--to break up the
infatuation for young Marksley. I thought you agreed with me. It was
your solution. You told me not to say anything about it until vacation,
and that you would send Eileen away.”
David might have spared his breath. The telegram was already on the
wire.