III

In her enthusiasm at the chance of finding a way out for Eleanor,

Rosamund seemingly forgot that it was Flood who helped her. As a

matter of fact, she considered him so little that she was quite willing

to make use of his assistance in so good a cause and then to ignore

him. She had always found someone at hand to help her in anything she

wanted to do; she could not remember a time when there was not someone

ready and willing to gratify her least whim. It was only in her

efforts on Eleanor's behalf that she was baffled for the first time, as

much by Eleanor's own pride as by not knowing to whom to turn, or where

help was to be found. It was a new experience for her to find that her

money could do nothing; for it was precisely her money that her

cherished Eleanor refused. If she was to do anything, it must be by

some other means.

Flood was not as entirely unconscious of her attitude as he appeared.

He had no intention of pressing himself upon her through making himself

of use. He beheld her suffering in sympathy with this unknown friend

of hers, and her suffering so worked upon his love for her that he

would have done much more to lessen it. But he knew humanity; and

while he took more pleasure in being generous than in any other of the

powers his wealth had brought him, he gave without thought of benefits

returned, save in the satisfaction of giving.

His first move was a letter to the mountain doctor.

MY DEAR DR. OGILVIE: [he wrote] Since my visit with you a matter has

been brought to my attention in which I do not hesitate to ask your

assistance. Two ladies whom I hold in highest esteem are in great

anxiety over a friend of theirs whom they have known from childhood.

This friend is a widow who has lately lost her son, having come to New

York from the South a few years ago in the hope of supporting herself

and the child, and being now alone here except for the ladies who are

my friends and hers. Her situation, you will perceive, is common

enough; but what adds to the distress in this instance is that Mrs.

Reeves' eyes are affected, to what extent I do not know. I have not

had the pleasure of meeting the lady myself; but I am told that her

vision is not entirely to be despaired of; and my friend Doctor Hiram

Wilson has great confidence in your power. It would be impossible to

offer charity to Mrs. Reeves; and it would be equally impossible for

her to go to the Summit to be near you without assistance; indeed, it

has been impossible for her to consult an oculist here until the

entreaties of my friends prevailed upon her to do so with them. But it

occurs to me that you might find use for an assistant in your work in

the mountains--a capable lady who has suffered enough to have sympathy

with the sufferings of others, and that sort of thing. Now would you

be willing to lend yourself to a mild deception for the sake of

conferring a great benefit? If you can make use of Mrs. Reeves'

assistance, I shall be very glad to remit to you whatever remuneration

you might offer her. I should also expect to pay the usual fees for

your attention to Mrs. Reeves' eyes. You will know best how to take up

that matter with her, so as not to arouse her suspicions of its having

been suggested to you. I should suggest that you write to me, asking

whether I can advise you of a suitable person to fill the office

of--whatever is the medical equivalent of parochial assistant. I am

sure I may count upon your help; as I understand it, this is one of

those cases whose claim cannot be denied by any one of us.

A few days later Flood went to Miss Randall with Ogilvie's reply:

Curiously enough, I have the very place for Mrs. Reeves. One of my

patients, who has taken a cottage at the Summit for the summer, is

looking for a companion. I am writing her by this mail to apply

through you to Mrs. Reeves. We will see what we can do for those

troublesome eyes; but I can manage it better if I don't have the

haunting feeling that I am to be paid--you will understand that. Your

parochial assistant plan sounded very tempting, but that sort of thing

would be too good to be true.

Flood laughed when Rosamund looked up from reading it. "My friend

Ogilvie seems to be as shy of possible charity as your Mrs. Reeves," he

said.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Then he remembered that she could not

know what he had written.

She saw his hesitancy and laughed. "Oh! So you've been offering

charity, have you? I wish you'd let me see a copy of your letter!"

"Now what for?" he asked. "Ogilvie's idea beats mine."

"But I'd like to see your literary style," she said, still laughing at

him.

"Oh, please!" he protested.

"Well, I think you are very good, Mr. Flood. The role of rescuer of

dames is very becoming to you! If you could see my Eleanor you'd feel

repaid. She is the loveliest and the dearest----"

"But I haven't done anything at all, I assure you. I'm sure I hope

your friend will find this Mrs. Hetherbee a comfortable person to live

with."

"Mrs. Hetherbee! Is that Doctor Ogilvie's patient?"

Flood nodded. "She telephoned me before I'd had my breakfast for Mrs.

Reeves' address. That was my excuse for bothering you in the morning."

"You are good," she said. Then she added, a little ruefully, "I wish

you could help me to break the news to Eleanor!"

For to persuade her Eleanor, as she had foreseen, was not as easy as to

persuade Flood and the unknown doctor and his patient.

She knew the lunch-room that Eleanor liked best, and sought her there

at the noon hour. They chatted across the small intervening table,

until Eleanor arose.

"You are not going back to the office," Rosamund declared, when they

were together on the street. "Now, Eleanor, please don't be difficult!"

"My dearest child!" Mrs. Reeves began; but Rosamund took her friend's

arm through her own, and poured forth the story of how she had heard,

through a Mr. Flood, that Mrs. Hetherbee wanted a companion.

"Who is Mrs. Hetherbee?" Eleanor asked, suspiciously.

"I haven't the least idea," Rosamund frankly admitted. "But she wants

a companion, and she is going to spend the summer at Bluemont Summit,

and----"

She paused, and Eleanor turned to her. "Rose, tell it all!" she said.

"You wouldn't be suggesting my leaving one situation for another,

unless you----"

"No, I wouldn't! I know it! I confess! I am! But you are so

peculiar, Eleanor!"

They laughed together, and Rosamund took courage to tell her. "There

is a man there who, they say, does wonders for the eyes. That is why I

want you to go, Eleanor. I don't know what Mrs. Hetherbee will pay

you; and I will not offer to--to--I will not offer anything at all!

But oh, Eleanor, please, please go!"

They walked in silence to the vestibule of the towering building where

Eleanor worked. At the elevator she turned to Rosamund.

"I will go to see Mrs. Hetherbee to-night," she said. "And I do love

you!"

Some weeks thereafter Rosamund came home from bidding Mrs. Reeves

farewell at the station, to find Cecilia once more dispensing tea to

Pendleton and Flood; and she sent Flood into a state of speechless

happiness with her thanks. Eleanor had promised to see Doctor Ogilvie

about her eyes at once, and Mrs. Hetherbee had taken a tremendous fancy

to Eleanor, and it was good of Mr. Flood to have sent those lovely

flowers to the train. Eleanor had introduced her as a friend of Mr.

Benson Flood, and was he willing that she should shine in his reflected

glory? Because it had tremendously impressed Mrs. Hetherbee!

When the men had left, Cecilia turned to her sister. "He's in love

with you, you know!" she said.

"Nonsense! I've known him all my life, Cissy, and you don't fall in

love with a person you've seen spanked!"

"You know very well I'm not talking about Marshall," said Mrs. Maxwell.

"And you know very well that Mr. Flood is tremendously in love with

you."

"I think you're disgusting," said Rosamund. "For heaven's sake, don't

try to follow the fashion of the women of our set in that respect,

Cissy! Every man they know has to be in love with somebody--half the

time with somebody else's wife! Oh, I loathe it!"

Cecilia remained calm. "I hope you don't loathe Mr. Flood," she said,

"because he is."

Rosamund threw herself back in a deep chair, and looked at her sister

in the exasperation one feels towards the sweetly stubborn.

"Oh, very well! He is! But that's nothing to me!"

"Isn't it? He probably thinks it is! You've taken his help for your

precious Eleanor, you know, and you're going to Oakleigh next month."

"I am not going to do anything of the kind!"

That moved Cecilia. "But my dear child, you certainly are! He has

asked me to be hostess for his first house-party, and I have accepted,

and said you'd go with me."

"Cecilia!"

"Now don't say you've forgotten it! Why, it was the very day you told

him about Eleanor."

Cecilia remained provokingly silent; and Rosamund jumped up

impatiently, only to throw herself down upon another chair.

"Oh, I wish I had never seen the man!" she cried. "I did tell him

about Eleanor, and I did let him do something for her. I would have

taken help for Eleanor from anybody--from a street-sweeper, or the

furnace man! That doesn't give your Mr. Flood any claim on me!"

"Yours, dear!" said Cecilia, smiling.

"He is not! Why, he is--nobody!"

"Well, that's not his fault. He wants to be somebody! He is doing his

best to marry into our family, love!"

At that Rosamund had to laugh. "Oh, Cissy! Don't be such a goose!

Mr. Flood is perfectly odious to me, and you know it. I don't see why

you ever let Marshall introduce him! I don't see why you ever allowed

him to so much as dare to invite us to Oakleigh!"

"But, my dear, Oakleigh is--Oakleigh!"

"What if it is? He ought to have known better than to ask us there,

and I don't see why you accepted."

Mrs. Maxwell smiled. "Pity, my dear!" she explained. "Pity--the crumb

to a starving dog--the farthing to a beggar! Besides, he will let me

invite whom I please and--well, Benson Flood may be a suppliant for one

thing, Rose, but he has, after all, more money than he can count!"

"Then why don't you marry him yourself?"

Mrs. Maxwell shrugged. "'Nobody asked me, sir, she said!' And

besides, when poor dear Tommy died--oh, well, he did actually die, poor

darling, so there never was any question of divorce or anything horrid,

like that--you know how old-fashioned I am in my ideas, Rosamund! But

still, there is such a thing as tempting Providence a little too often.

My hopes are distinctly not matrimonial. Not that I think Mr. Flood is

the least bit like Tommy. If I did, of course I couldn't

conscientiously--you know! As it is, I think he'd do very well--in the

family!"

"You show great respect for the family!"

"Oh, well, Rosamund, the family can stand it! You must admit that! I

am sure the Stanfields and the Berkleys and the Randalls need not mind

a--a--an alliance with--with the millions of a Benson Flood!"

Rosamund sighed impatiently. "Oh, dear, Cecilia," she said, "I do wish

it were in my power to give you half my money!"

Mrs. Maxwell smiled with pursed lips. "So do I," she declared. "I'd

take it in a minute! But you can't! You can't do one single thing

with it until you're twenty-five, except spend the income; and you've

got six months more before your birthday. And even then you won't want

to give me half of it, because now you don't even want me to spend the

income! Gracious! I wish I had a chance at it!"

"I do give you half of my income, Cecilia!"

"No, you don't," Mrs. Maxwell contradicted, in a voice that echoed an

old complaint. "You only give me half of the sum you think two people

ought to spend! As if it isn't right and one's duty to spend all one

can! I know there's something about keeping money in circulation, and

all that, if only I could remember it! But nothing would move you!

Poor dear Mamma used to say that Colonel Randall was obstinate--most

obstinate, Rosamund; and I must say that you don't take after the

Stanfields at all, not at all!"

Mrs. Maxwell's grievances, thus expressed, began to be too much for

her; she spoke through tears. "I am sure I have tried to do my very

best by you, Rosamund, since Mamma died! The accounts the Trust

Company made me keep all those years were dreadful, perfectly dreadful!

But I used to struggle through them somehow, because I was sustained by

the thought that when you were twenty-five we could just spend and

spend and spend and never have to bother about keeping accounts or

being economical or anything! But it will be just the same then! I

know it will! Why, you haven't even one automobile!"

Her sister's tears and the fatuity of her arguments were as unfailing

an appeal to Rosamund as they would have been to a man; she got up and

put her arms around Cecilia.

"You silly old darling!" she laughed. "You shall have an automobile!

You may have two if you want them, and I will give you every penny of

my income that we haven't spent in the last three years! But for

goodness sake, don't cry!"

Mrs. Maxwell followed up her victory. "Will you go to Oakleigh?" she

asked.

Rosamund capitulated. "Oh, I suppose so!" she said, and shrugged.

Then she added, with a somewhat malicious little smile, "It goes

without saying that Marshall goes, too?"

Mrs. Maxwell lifted her chin. The line of her throat was still very

pretty. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror over the mantel.

"Don't be absurd," she said. "Why shouldn't he?"