MISS FRINK MAKES A CALL
At the tears on Millicent’s face now, Hugh laughed aloud. She was looking
aghast.
“To-morrow everybody will know it!” she ejaculated.
“Know what?”
“That Mr. Grimshaw couldn’t find us.” And crystal drops began again to
race down her cheeks.
“You cry-baby!” said Hugh, regarding her curiously. “Here, I have more of
a handkerchief than that. Come here and I’ll bail while you pour.”
“Oh, am I crying?” she returned, distractedly mopping her cheeks. “I must
speak to Damaris as soon as Grandpa gets through. You don’t know what it
is to live in a little town.”
“Oh, is that it?” returned Hugh, regarding her flushed, troubled face,
and thinking it was as sweet as a dew-washed flower. “They’ll say we
eloped, eh? I’ll tell the world I thank ’em for the compliment.”
Colonel Duane here reappeared and Millicent dashed by him into the house.
He seemed to be serenely unaware of his grandchild’s excitement, and,
telling Hugh not to talk, but to rest, he seated himself a little way
off, and Hugh had the full benefit of the one-sided conversation within.
It was a particularly cheerful and care-free voice speaking, with little
gulps in the throat that caught it at unexpected moments.
“Oh, yes, Damaris, it’s Millicent. I was sorry Mr. Grimshaw had to
trouble you.”
“Oh, yes, I’m home. It was such a beautiful day, you know, we walked
over.”
“Yes, Mr. Stanwood had business with Grandpa, and—and he didn’t
understand that Mr. Grimshaw—What? Yes, didn’t know that he was expected
to wait for the carriage. What? Yes, it was queer Mr. Grimshaw didn’t see
us. We were just—walking along, you know, just walking along. What? Yes,
he’s here. He and Grandpa are together. Did you say Mr. Grimshaw looked
scared? Why, what for? Yes, of course, Mr. Stanwood isn’t entirely strong
yet. Oh, that’s all right. I just wanted you to know that nobody is lost,
strayed, or stolen.” Suddenly, with great dignity, the voice changed.
“No, no, indeed. Good-bye.”
When Millicent went back to the piazza after washing her face and
applying powder where it would be most effective, she found her
grandfather seated by his recumbent guest and asking him about his
previous studies.
“You might bring Mr. Stanwood a cup of bouillon, Milly,” said the
Colonel, and the girl went back into the house.
When she reappeared, her own fresh, fair, and demure self, bearing her
offering, Hugh looked at her approvingly.
“My life is just one tray after another,” he said.
The patient had just taken his last swallow when a sound of wheels was
heard. Miss Frink’s victoria stopped before the gate, and that lady
herself dismounted and came up the path. Colonel Duane hastened to meet
her. Millicent stood up, holding the tray undecidedly, with an expression
of face which seemed to be bracing for a _coup de grace_, and Hugh flung
a long leg out of the hammock.
“Lie still, Hugh,” ordered the visitor, waving her parasol
authoritatively.
Hugh withdrew the leg. Miss Frink had never walked up on that piazza
before, although it was her own property. She looked around approvingly.
“You’ve made this place lovely, Colonel Duane.”
“Well, we think it is a good deal of a paradise this time of year.”
“So you overdid yourself,” said Miss Frink, seating herself in the
offered chair by the hammock.
Colonel Duane lifted Millicent’s tray and carried it into the house, and
the girl took a chair near the visitor.
“What makes you think so?” inquired Hugh blandly.
“You didn’t come by the road. There was only one other way you could
come.”
No one in the world ever looked guiltier than Millicent at this moment.
Her awe of Miss Frink kept her eyes dry and very large, but she saw her
job disappearing, and herself stingingly rebuked.
Miss Frink’s gaze turned upon her.
“What was your idea?” she asked bluntly, but she was conscious of the
picture made by the blue-gowned girl against the background of apple
blossoms.
Millicent’s lips opened and closed several times without a sound emerging.
Miss Frink laughed, and exchanged a look with Hugh.
“You took him down Lover’s Lane. That’s what you did,” said Miss Frink,
regarding the girl accusingly. “Of course, it’s ever so much more
romantic than the highroad; but we’ve got to build Prince Charming up
before you can cut up any such didos as that.”
“Oh, Miss Frink!” It was a gasp, not only of extreme embarrassment, but
also of relief that the matter might be treated jocosely.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” said Hugh, grinning. “I’ve found out
what she did it for. She was hiding me.” Miss Frink grimaced her glasses
off. “Yes, madam, she lives in a small town and she was hiding me.”
“And set every dog and goose to barking and cackling,” declared Miss
Frink.
“But I revenged myself on her. I waited till we came to a mossy couch
under an apple tree, and then I keeled over.—Look out”—a warning hand
toward Millicent—“don’t you cry now. She was the best little sport you
ever heard of. I nearly crushed her poor little wing while she and
Colonel Duane were getting me up here, and they have filled me with the
milk of human kindness and beef tea ever since.”
“It was all Grimshaw’s stupidity,” said Miss Frink. “I put it in his
hands and he didn’t order the carriage in time.” Her lips twitched
amusedly. “He tried to shift the responsibility, and make out that you
preferred to walk; but I X-rayed him. He hadn’t a chance. Did I ever tell
you, Hugh, to beware of my X-ray mind?” She regarded him quizzically,
admiring his beauty as she always did. “Double-dealing hasn’t a chance
with me. I always see directly through it.”
Hugh rearranged his pillows. “Quite a business asset, I should judge,”
he returned, and for a minute his complexion matched the hectic hue of
Millicent. Why should Miss Frink be boring into him, as it were, with her
dark, bright eyes?
“So when Grim got through the account of his pilgrimage, I knew you must
have come by Lover’s Lane.” The speaker suddenly turned again upon the
young girl with a smiling frown.
“Oh, Miss Frink, I can’t tell you how sorry I am!” Millicent’s hands were
clasped.
“Now, be careful,” broke in Hugh. “Remember the size of your
handkerchief.”
“I’ll try not to cry,” she responded, her voice teetering, as it were,
like a person trying to keep his balance on a tight rope. “I’m so
thankful if you’re not vexed with me. I do think now it was awfully
stupid; but you know what Farrandale is.”
“Bless me!” said Miss Frink. “Then the child really was trying to hide
you!”
“Yes,” said Millicent frankly; “and then Mr. Grimshaw went right over to
the Coopers’, hunting!”
Miss Frink gave her rare laugh. Millicent was so pretty against the apple
blossoms, and so genuinely disturbed, and Hugh so handsome and amused,
she thoroughly enjoyed the situation.
“Didn’t I say you set all the geese to cackling? I will call a town
meeting and announce that there is nothing in it. How will that do?”
Millicent struggled not to feel embarrassed. “With your X-ray mind you’ll
know there isn’t,” she returned, with more spirit than Hugh had given her
credit for.
Colonel Duane reappeared with another tray. It bore tea and little cakes
this time. Miss Frink liked the way his granddaughter sprang to his
assistance and arranged everything on the porch table. Colonel Duane was
a gentleman of the old school and his breeding showed in Millicent. She
liked their simplicity and fineness. The girl’s job was never safer.
When tea was served, Millicent opened a subject near her heart.
“Miss Frink,” she said, “will you let me beg a favor of you?”
“Certainly. Speak right up.”
“It is about Damaris. I have experimented, and I can fix her hair so you
would never know it was bobbed.”
The caller eyed her sharply. “Are you tired of reading to me?”
“No, indeed!” The ejaculation was earnest. “But couldn’t she have my
place in the gloves, if—if I show you the way I can fix her hair? And she
is so attractive, and bright, and pretty, and people would love to have
her fit them, and she knows so many people—” The girl stopped, it was so
extraordinary to be talking courageously to Miss Frink.
That lady turned toward Colonel Duane. “Your granddaughter would make a
good press-agent, wouldn’t she?”
“Yes, Milly would,” he returned, composedly sipping his tea.
“Then if people didn’t believe her she would cry,” remarked Hugh.
“What’s all this about your crying, Millicent?” asked Miss Frink.
“When I’ve done wrong, like making Mr. Stanwood too tired and—and having
everybody talk about it, I cry; that’s natural, isn’t it? But never mind
his teasing. I wish I could get the place for Damaris.”
“This generation is so full of silly girls,” said Miss Frink. “Hugh, have
you your mother’s picture in your pocket?”
He blinked, and colored again. Throwing his long legs out of the hammock,
he sat up against the netting. “I didn’t tell you it was Mother,” he
blurted out.
“No,” said Miss Frink quietly. “There are a number of things you didn’t
tell me.”
Hugh felt in his pocket and produced the case.
“You don’t have to tell her things,” said Millicent—“with an X-ray mind,
you know.”
Silently Miss Frink accepted the offered morocco case, and opened it
under Millicent’s eyes.
“Isn’t she lovely!” exclaimed the girl.
“Yes. Look at that hair and compare Damaris’s with it. Does your sister
resemble your mother?” Miss Frink suddenly addressed Hugh.
His tea-cup jingled in his hand.
“I didn’t—I—yes, she does. You _have_ been X-raying, Miss Frink. I didn’t
tell you about my sister.”
“No, but Mr. Ogden did. She must be a very fine woman.”
Hugh regarded the speaker with parted lips. Was she about to release the
sword of Damocles before these witnesses; or was this all she knew?
“But it will be growing all the time, you see,” said Millicent; and Miss
Frink passed the photograph to the Colonel. “I wish you’d let me show
you, Miss Frink.”
That lady’s lips twitched and the bright eyes were very kind as she
looked at this girl who didn’t sprawl, or loll in her chair, and who was
fresh as Aurora.
“Very well, I suppose I must listen to such a special pleader. I offered
the position to Mrs. Lumbard, but she seemed to think that teaching music
would be more in her line.”
“I can’t see her there,” said Millicent, shaking her blonde head
seriously, “nearly so well as I can Damaris.”
“To tell the truth, neither can I,” returned Miss Frink.
“Then—then may I tell her there is hope?” asked Millicent eagerly.
“Yes. You might use it as a bribe to get her not to tell everybody of Mr.
Grimshaw’s coming around with a search-warrant. Eh?” The speaker returned
the photograph case to its owner. “It’s time I took this boy home. Have
we some big books to carry, Colonel Duane?”