BLANCHE PUDDICOMBE
"You're a great deal better, aren't you, Miss Nita?" Polly was
saying.
Miss Sterling gave a smiling nod across the bed. She and Polly
were putting on the covers.
"I think you've been growing stronger since the picnic. Maybe it
was the outdoors. Father says there's nothing like it for nerves.
I wish we could have another, now your ankle is all well; but it is
too late for to-day. Why can't we go to walk, you and Mrs.
Adlerfeld and Mrs. Albright and I? I know a lovely road out
Brookside Avenue way."
"Well," agreed Miss Sterling, "if it isn't too far. I feel equal
to a good deal this morning."
"Oh, that's jolly! We needn't go any farther than we choose, you
know. I'll bring a lunch, so it will seem like a little
picnic--things taste so much better out of doors. Isn't it lovely
that you are stronger! Did you tell Mr. Randolph that you're
better?"
"Why, no, dear, of course not! It was just a note of thanks."
"What if it was! You could have said that! He'll want to know!"
"I think he'll be able to survive the omission." Miss Sterling
patted the pillow into shape and smiled over it.
"Oh, I saw him yesterday!" Polly broke out. "I forgot to tell you!"
The other waited, an expectant smile fluttering about her pretty
lips.
"Blanche Puddicombe was riding with him. He had his roadster. I
don't see what he takes her around so much for. She isn't a bit
pretty."
"Probably she is agreeable." Miss Sterling laid down the blanket
she had folded and crossed the room.
"I don't see how she can be with such a mother," Polly went on.
"She fusses herself up a good deal the same way. She hasn't a mite
of taste. I saw her downtown shopping the other day with a sport
skirt, very wide scarlet stripes, and a dress hat trimmed with a
single pink rose--the most delicate pink--and a light blue feather!
Oh, yes, and a crepe-de-chine waist of pale green!"
An amused chuckle sounded from the window, where Miss Sterling was
straightening the curtains.
"You ought to have seen her! Her hair is black as--my shoe, and
she wears it waved right down over her ears--you wouldn't know she
had any ears! Queer, Mr. Randolph should want her riding round
with him so much! You'd think he would have more sense, wouldn't
you?"
"She has money--and youth!" was the emphasized reply, in a cold,
hard tone. "Money and youth make everything harmonize--even sport
skirts and dress hats!"
"She doesn't begin to look as young as you do. She looks more than
thirty, and you don't!"
"Polly Dudley!"
"Father says so, anyway!"
"I thank your father for the nattering compliment; but I think he
must be needing glasses."
"No, he doesn't need glasses!" retorted Polly. "His eyes are
first-rate. Dear me! Is it eleven o'clock? I must go home!
Let's start early--by two, can you?"
"Oh, I don't believe I'll go this afternoon!" The voice sounded
weary.
"Why, Miss Nita! you said you would!"
"I know, but I wasn't tired then. I guess I'll have to put it off a
day or two."
"You haven't done anything to tire you! You'll never get well if
you don't go more!" cried Polly plaintively. "And we won't go a
step farther than you like. We needn't ask anybody else, if you'd
rather not--we can go all by ourselves." Polly waited anxiously.
Miss Sterling shook her head with a little sigh. "You go with the
others to-day. I don't feel as if I could."
Polly finally went off, her face downcast. Coaxings had availed
nothing.