“I know it, Hugh. I can see it all, now.”
“And I mustn’t walk home with you?”
She hesitated. “I suppose you shouldn’tleave Mr. Ogden alone. He goes so soon and Miss Frink is asleep.”
Hugh smiled down at her. She wished he wouldn’t. She could hardly bear it. “A good excuse for you not to have to try to hide me,” he returned.
“No; I shall never wish to hide you again,” she said.
“You think I’m all right, then, eh, Millicent?”
“I know you are,” she answered, and, releasing herself and giving him an April smile, she ran down the steps.
It was no small undertaking for Miss Frink, in the days that followed, to keep her word about not idolizing her grand-nephew. What she did for him she tried to clothe in such a matter-of-fact manner as to disarm him. Almost at once invitations began to come to Hugh from the young people of Farrandale for tennis parties, dances, picnics, and so on. Miss Frink saw that he was declining them all. She went to his room one morning with another envelope in her hand.
“This has just come from the Tarrants,” she said, “and I suppose it is another invitation. I hope you will accept, Hugh, for they are among our best people.”
“I don’t know much about society, Aunt Susanna. I’d rather keep off the grass if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, I do mind,” she answered pleasantly. “People will misunderstand if you refuse to mix. They will think that either you don’t know how, or else that you feel superior.”
“Both of them correct,” replied Hugh, laughing.
“Neither of them correct,” returned Miss Frink. “The first thing for you to do is to get suitable clothes for the different sorts of things. Sports clothes, evening duds, and so on.”
“Remember, Aunt Susanna. It was agreed. No Lord Fauntleroy.”
“Exactly,” she returned briskly. “Don’t get a velvet suit. I forbid it; but please order the other things at once. Then, if you want to decline an invitation, it won’t be because you haven’t the proper things to wear.”
“I didn’t know you were so vain.”
“I am, very. Now here is your bank book.” She laid the little leather book on the table. “And here is your check book.” Hugh stepped toward her. “Now, not a word,” she warned. “You know that was agreed upon. The first of every month I shall deposit your allowance to your account.”
Hugh had reached her now. He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek.
“And this afternoon I want you to go on an errand with me. I’ve waked up lately to what a hidebound person I’ve always been: unwilling to move with the world. I’ve decided that I want an automobile.”
Hugh raised his eyebrows. “Well, I can’t see Rex and Regina thrown into the discard.”
“No, neither can I; but there are times when the convenience of a motor cannot be gainsaid. I borrow Leonard’s occasionally, and it is absurd, when you come to think of it, to let a foolish prejudice deprive one of a convenience. A motor is a great convenience.”
“It can’t be denied,” said Hugh, restraining himself from claiming to smell a large and obvious mouse. She was having such a good time.
He hugged her once more, and she left the room as one whom business is driving. He looked at the record in his bank book and gave a low whistle.
When the rumor of Adèle’s new position reached Miss Frink, she did not have to assume approval in speaking to her secretary about it. The fact that the young woman was going to play to the young people of Farrandale from a distance, instead of standing toward them inthe intimate relation of a teacher, was a distinct relief. She still felt that new kindness toward Grimshaw which came from the belief that he felt usurped, and, perceiving in him a champion of Adèle, she took pains to express herself pleasantly, as they sat together at their desks.
“I suppose the Koh-i-noor engagement will be a good arrangement for Adèle,” she said. “It comes as a surprise.”
“Yes. I don’t think she is fitted for the drudgery of teaching,” he returned.
“No one is who considers it drudgery,” declared Miss Frink. “When is the theater to open?”
“A week from to-night.”
“Well, they have secured a real musician.”
“Adèle will be glad to hear that she has your approval,” said Grimshaw. He took from his pocket an envelope. “Mr. Goldstein asked me to give you these tickets for the opening. He hopes you will honor him with your presence.”
Miss Frink took the offered envelope. Across it was written: “For the Queen of Farrandale.”
“You know I don’t go to the movies, Grim. Why didn’t you tell him so?”
“Because this is different. He intends to give only artistic entertainment. Everybody will go.”
“I—I don’t expect to be in town a week from to-night.”
“Ah? I didn’t know you were planning to leave. Is Mr. Sinclair accompanying you?”
The secretary always clung to the formal title.
“No, he isn’t. You and he can divide these tickets and take your best girls. Perhaps he will have one by that time.”
She put the envelope back on Grimshaw’s desk.
Miss Frink had instinctively felt that during the first weeks of his new status in the town Hugh would not wish to be seen driving with her in her well-known equipage, and she had desisted from asking him; but to-day he was beside her as the handsome bays jingled toward that large salesroom where reposed their hitherto unsuccessful rivals.
“Now I have picked out a car,” said Miss Frink as they neared their goal, “but I didn’t want to buy it without your approval because, of course, I hope you would like to drive me a good deal.”
“I understand,” replied Hugh. “I certainly should like to.”
As they entered the salesroom, a man came forward to welcome them eagerly.
“Mr. Godfrey, this is my nephew, Mr. Sinclair, and I want him to see that roadster I was looking at.”
“Yes, Miss Frink, I’ve been watching for you.”
He led the way to where a low, rakish, canary-colored machine shone gayly.
Hugh stared at it.
“Is this the one, Aunt Susanna?”
“Yes,” she replied, rather defiantly. “You know I don’t do things by halves. If I’m going to have a motor, I want to go the whole figure. I told Mr. Godfrey I wanted a snappy, classy car: even if it was extreme: even if it was to cars what jazz is to music.”
Hugh looked at the salesman, but no sense of humor could be discerned in his earnest countenance. Hugh struggled with his own risibles and also with a desire to hug his aunt in public. It seemed the only way to deal with her.
“How were you going to get into it, Aunt Susanna?” he asked.
She gazed at the machine, observing for the first time that it had no doors.
“I—why—” she began.
“You wouldn’t want to turn a somersault every time you went for an outing, would you?”
She looked at him helplessly. “Don’t you like it, Hugh?” she asked faintly.
He looked again at the salesman to see if he was human. Apparently the depth of Miss Frink’s pocketbook was the only feature of the transaction which he was taking in.
“Let’s find something a little less sporty,” he continued. “You’ve a fine assortment here.”
“That’s right, Hugh, you choose,” said Miss Frink, her spirits rising, “and don’t think too much about me. One that you would like to drive is what I want.”
They chose one at last. It was very dark blue, and very shiny, and low hung, and very expensive, and it had embryo doors, and could be delivered promptly, and Hugh’s eyes shone at the prospect of being its chauffeur. Miss Frink was tremulous with happiness at seeing his pleasure, and they returned home to dinner, her hand in his.
“I don’t know what to do with you, Aunt Susanna,” he said.
“Now, Hugh, you’re doing me injustice,” she returned firmly. “I do want to drive in an auto. I want to progress, and not be a clam. Besides, I’m going away, and I thought you could learn all about the machine while I am gone.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Waveland Beach. It is only a few hours from here. I guess I’m tired. At any rate, I’m not sleeping very well, and I’ll get down there and not hear a word about business for a few weeks.”
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling all right. Can’t I do something? Don’t you want me to go with you?”
Of course, she did, but she denied it. “No, you stay here and go on with Colonel Duane. Shan’t you choose Columbia in the fall? I’ve been writing to Carol and telling her we are going to have a full-fledged lawyer of our own pretty soon.”
So a few days later Miss Frink departed to her resort, and it fitted in so well with Leonard Grimshaw’s plans that she should go away, that he was quite affable about the new automobile, and in his first tête-à-tête dinner with Hugh was less taciturn than usual.
He talked of the cleverness with which Adèle handled the Koh-i-noor organ. He gave him the tickets for the opening of the Cinema Palace, and Hugh took Millicent and her grandfather and Damaris Cooper, and they had a delightful party. They talked with Adèle afterward. She was in the highest spirits, and Leonard Grimshaw stood beside her with an air of proprietorship which Hugh discerned with satisfaction.
The secretary had not yet qualified for that reward of hers, promised when he should have evicted the Duanes; and seeing Millicent with Hugh to-night created in Adèle a tigerish eagerness for its fulfillment.
“Have patience,” Leonard told her when the others had gone. “Everything is workingtoward the desired end; but why are you so interested?” he added.
“Can you ask?” she returned with one of the looks he dreamed about. “Is it nothing to—to us that Goldstein wishes to be so generous?”
Grimshaw smiled. “We may be living in that apartment house ourselves, Adèle. Who knows?”
One afternoon there appeared in Colonel Duane’s garden an alien growth in the shape of the manager of the Koh-i-noor. The owner saw him walking along the garden paths and in surprise went out to meet him.
Mr. Goldstein held out his hand. “It looks like intrusion, I’m sure, Colonel Duane, but you excuse me if I look this ground over; I have a strong personal interest.”
Colonel Duane mechanically shook hands.
“Yes; I am about to buy this property.” The visitor smiled into the old gentleman’s startled face.
“I’ve heard nothing of this,” said the Colonel, and his voice was not steady. “Miss Frink is away.”
“Ah, who so progressive as Miss Frink!” said Goldstein devoutly. “This property is too valuable for its present use. I will put an apartmentbuilding here that you will be proud to live in—proud, Colonel Duane.”
“I—I can’t realize that what you say is true.”
“Oh, there is nothing to worry you,” said Goldstein soothingly. “You will not be required to leave before the autumn. I’m sure we would not do anything to disturb or annoy so respected a citizen.” The speaker’s eyes wandered afield. “I wanted to see what the chances would be of retaining that old elm in the corner there. You know, Colonel Duane, to me a fine tree is an asset. There is something money cannot buy. It is worth a sacrifice to retain it. It is a thing that the years only can produce. It is—” He turned to face his companion, but the old gentleman had gone.
Colonel Duane entered the room where his granddaughter was, and Millicent started up in alarm.
“What is it Grandpa? Are you ill?”
“I’ve had a shock, Milly. Miss Frink is going to sell our place.”
“Oh, I can’t believe it! Not without any warning.”
“Mr. Goldstein, of the Koh-i-noor, is going to buy it. He is out there now, looking the ground over.”
Millicent ran to the window. She could see the purchaser, his hands folded behind him looking up at the fine old tree. She turned back to her grandfather with eyes that flashed. Her soft lips set in a hard line.
“How can she do it with all her money! How can she take your garden away, Grandpa?”
“He is going to put up a flat building.” Colonel Duane sank into a chair. “We can’t expect the world to stand still for us, Milly. Business is business. Mr. Goldstein says this land is too valuable to be left for an old man to go puttering about in.” He smiled pitifully.
“That is why she has gone away,” said Millicent acutely. “She was ashamed to do this to you, Grandpa.”
“Being ashamed is not in Miss Frink’s line,” he answered, and his pale, still face gave the girl the heartache. “It is the habit of her life to take advantage of business opportunities. Here came along a man with the money, and the plan. I suppose it was the natural move for her to make.”
“But she knows you, Grandpa. She knows what it will mean to you. I tell you she went away because she was ashamed to own it. There he goes, the mean thing.” Millicent watched the future owner’s departure up thestreet, and at once from the other direction appeared Hugh Sinclair driving the very new, very blue, very shiny roadster.
“Oh, there is Hugh!” she exclaimed, her hands clasping together. “He has come to take me driving, Grandpa. Your news put it out of my head.”
The horn of the motor sounded, and the girl waved her hand toward Hugh’s blowing hair.
“Now be very careful, Milly,” said Colonel Duane. “You’re excited, and you’re liable to say the wrong thing to Hugh. This property is Miss Frink’s, and she has a right to do just what she pleases with it. Don’t make Hugh unhappy over a matter he can’t do anything about.”
The girl caught the speaker in her strong young arms and kissed him.
“Promise me, Milly.”
“Yes, dear, yes,” she said breathlessly, and ran out to the waiting motor.
“My word, you’re all lit up, Millicent,” laughed Hugh at sight of her sparkling eyes. “You must like this little gas buggy as much as I do.”
They were off before she answered. “Yes, I love it; but I wanted, I needed, so much to see you, Hugh.”
“I like that all right. What do you want of little Johnny-on-the-spot?”
“Just to talk to you. Of course I know you can’t do anything, and Grandpa told me to be very careful and not make you unhappy—”
“It can’t be done, Millicent. An afternoon like this, and the car, and you. What’s going to make me unhappy?”
“Perhaps it won’t, but—we’re going to lose our home, and Grandpa’s garden.”
Hugh met her bright, dry eyes. Tears wouldn’t do this subject justice.
“How are you going to lose it?”
“Miss Frink is selling it to Mr. Goldstein. He has just been in the garden looking it over. He told Grandpa, and when Grandpa came in to me he looked old. I never saw Grandpa look old before.”
“There must be some mistake.”
“No. Mr. Goldstein is going to put up a flat building.”
Hugh’s brow was puckered in a puzzled frown. “Aunt Susanna would have spoken of it to me.”
“Oh, think what a wonderful business woman she is. She wouldn’t talk of her business deals to any one, would she?”
“Perhaps not,” returned Hugh.
“But Miss Frink likes Grandpa. I believe she would be sorry for us, and I think, Hugh, it really makes me more sure that she is selling us out, that she has gone away.”
“Oh, pshaw, Millicent. Aunt Susanna isn’t any coward.”
“No,” agreed the girl ruefully, “the Queen of Farrandale doesn’t have to be; but she seemed to like us, and I feel she would be sorry and perhaps would rather be away.”
“My opinion is that Goldstein was talking through his hat. He probably wants the place—but so do I.” Hugh turned with the Prince Charming smile to his companion. “Not for his purpose, though. I want it always to stay full of apple blossoms and nice girls in blue gowns.”
“Oh, Hugh, it’s like a bad dream.”
“Let us pretend it is a nightmare until I see Grimshaw at dinner. He will know the inside facts, and I will run over this evening and tell you all about it.”
There had been a humorous side, to Hugh, to the tête-à-tête meals he and the secretary had been obliged to take in Miss Frink’s absence. They seldom met at breakfast or luncheon, but at the formally correct dinners Hugh comported himself with care not to be irritating.
To-night he approached the subject on his mind with circumspection.
“I heard to-day that Mr. Goldstein wants to purchase the Duane place,” he said.
Grimshaw nodded. “Yes; it will be a very advantageous move for Miss Frink. The ground is too central to be used any longer in the present fashion.”
“You have charge of the transaction?” ventured Hugh.
Grimshaw did not lift his eyes from his plate. “Naturally. I have charge of all Miss Frink’s business moves. I am always watching her interests.”
“That sale would work something of a hardship,” remarked Hugh.
“Yes,” agreed Grimshaw, with a nonchalant rising inflection; “but there would be nothing sudden or violent about it. There are plenty of places farther out where the Duanes can go, and it is my duty to think only of Miss Frink.”
“You have her full authority?”
“Certainly. I have her full authority.”
“It is a little strange,” said Hugh, “that she never mentioned the proposition of this sale to me.”
“You think it strange?” returned Grimshaw, and there was a scarcely veiled sneer in the retort.“I believe Miss Frink has not considered you on the business side as yet.”
Hugh said no more; but less than an hour later he ran up on the Duanes’ piazza. The evening was warm, and they were sitting out.
Millicent jumped up eagerly at sight of him and he grasped her outstretched hand and held it.
“I am not satisfied, Colonel Duane, with my talk with Grimshaw,” he said.
The old gentleman looked up, patiently.
“Shall you wire Miss Frink?” asked Millicent eagerly.
“Of course not,” said Colonel Duane. “Hugh shouldn’t interfere.”
“Yes, I shall, to the extent of finding out what’s what.”
Millicent released her hand and sat down.
“The thing to do is for Millicent and me to motor down to Waveland to-morrow. I learn that we can do it in four hours. We’ll talk with Aunt Susanna, and, if we find that she is content to let Grimshaw do his darndest, we’ll motor back again; but if it turns out that she is from Missouri, we three will come back on the train.”
“That’s fair enough, Grandpa?” asked Millicent anxiously.
“I don’t know that it is. Miss Frink has gone away to rest and probably left instructions with her secretary, and for you to go, Milly, and throw yourself on her sympathy—”
“She shan’t throw herself on anything, Colonel Duane. I promise it; but it will be so much more satisfactory for Millicent to see Aunt Susanna face to face, and hear just what she says—”
Colonel Duane was thoughtful. “If Miss Frink does not return with you, I don’t like the idea of your motoring back here late in the evening. It would be midnight, probably.”
“I’ll see to that,” returned Hugh. “If Aunt Susanna doesn’t return with us, she has two rooms down there, and Millicent will spend the night with her; and I’ll wire you. We’ll motor back the next morning.”
“You wish to do it, Milly?” asked Colonel Duane.
“It seems as if I should fly out of my skin if I couldn’t.”
“If we come back on the train with Aunt Susanna, it will be late, and Millicent will spend the night at our house.”
“No!” exclaimed the old man. “Bring her home, whatever hour it is.”
Miss Frink was sitting on the porch of the Sea View Hotel, rocking as all good Americans do, and thinking, as usual, of Hugh.
The expanse of ocean lay before her, and, as she watched the sailboats careening, she wondered if her nephew cared for sailing and if he was a good swimmer. She thought of the desirable girls in Farrandale. Some of them had had European educations. She hoped Hugh would accept the Tarrant invitation. As Miss Frink passed in review the young people she had seen grow up without noticing them, Inez Tarrant stood out in her mind as the most attractive. She shook her head as a memory of Hugh’s father struck athwart her thought.
“I won’t,” she reflected. “I won’t interfere this time, whatever the boy does. He shall never think of his old aunt as a wet blanket. Never!”
She was in a blissful dream when suddenly a car drew up before the hotel porch directly in front of her rocking-chair. She didn’t recognize it at first. All its shiny blueness was dust-laden. So were its occupants. One of themsaw her instantly, and waved his cap. Millicent was out as quickly as Hugh, pulling off her veil and looking up with a beating heart at Miss Frink, who started to her feet.
“We’ve come to lunch with you, Aunt Susanna.” Hugh embraced her, and she took Millicent’s timid hand.
“Well, if this isn’t fine of you children! What sights you are! Take the car to the garage, Hugh, while I help Millicent to brush up. You must have started very early,” she added to the girl when they had reached her room.
“We did, and it has been such a beautiful morning. The car runs like velvet.”
“You look tired, child. Are those shadows under your eyes, or is it all dust? Now I’ll leave you here. Make yourself at home. Don’t hurry. There’s plenty of time. Come down to the porch when you’re ready.”
Miss Frink returned to her rocking-chair, and soon Hugh joined her, washed and brushed to her heart’s desire.
“I’m your letter to-day, Aunt Susanna,” he said, pulling up a chair beside her.
“Well, I’ll take you”—she regarded the vital light in his eyes—“and read you, too.”
“The X-ray still working?” he laughed.
“Certainly. Here is a very happy boy.”
“With everything to make him happy,” he returned.
“The car pleases you?”
“Perfect. The company, too.”
“Me or Millicent?” Miss Frink’s lips twitched. “My! That girl’s hair was pretty when it tumbled down just now, upstairs.”
“Both of you,” replied Hugh.
“Have you accepted Miss Tarrant’s invitation?”
“No—yes—Oh, yes, I remember now, I did, to please you.”
“It will be to please yourself, later.”
Hugh gave her a brilliant smile in which eyes and lips coöperated with great effect.
“It won’t matter much, Aunt Susanna. There is only one perfect girl in Farrandale, and I’ve found her.”
Miss Frink grasped the arms of her chair.
“Hugh Sinclair!” she gasped. “Why, I never even thought of Millicent Duane!”
He leaned toward her and spoke low. The smile vanished under his aunt’s aghast eyeglasses.
“Set your X-ray going, Aunt Susanna. See the modesty, the honesty, the purity, the frankness, the unselfishness, the charm of total goodness—”
“Did you come down here to tell me this?”
“No. I never said a word to her until this morning on the way; and she refused me. She’s afraid of you. She believes herself too humble and obscure to suit you, and she says she’d rather die than marry me if it didn’t please you. She loves you, too, Aunt Susanna. She appreciates you.”
Miss Frink’s firm resolution of an hour ago recurred to her. Her surprise was so absolute that she leaned back in her chair, speechless.
“We just made up our minds suddenly last night to come, and it has been a most lovely drive.”
“H’m. Millicent looks as if she had been through the war.”
“She has. We’ll tell you about it, later.”
Millicent appeared from the doorway, and Miss Frink noted the expression in Hugh’s face as he started up to meet her.
“I know you are both famished,” she said. “Let us go right in to lunch.”
Poor Millicent, with her double burden of apprehension and embarrassment, made a valiant attempt to eat, and Hugh saved her from the necessity of talking by keeping up a busy conversation with his aunt. As for Miss Frink, she was constantly fighting a sense of resentment.
“Just like me,” she thought. “Just because I didn’t plan it, I suppose I can’t approve it. Just because I can’t have him all to myself, I suppose I wouldn’t like it, whoever it was. Just like you, Susanna Frink. Just like you!”
When they rose from the table, Hugh spoke.
“We did come down here on an errand, Aunt Susanna. Is there some place where we can be entirely by ourselves?”
“We will go up to my room,” she returned. What could their errand be if it was not on that rending subject?
“She didn’t eat anything,” reflected Miss Frink as they went up in the elevator. “I suppose they don’t when they’re in love.”
Her heart pleaded a little for Millicent, just then. Even if it were presumptuous for the girl to fall in love with Hugh, was it within youthful feminine human nature to help it when they had been thrown together daily for so long? What had been nearly superhuman was to refuse him, shut in with him in that very new, very blue, shiny roadster with all the early summer surroundings of romance. The girl had some strength, anyway. And how sweetly she had sympathized with herself at the exciting time of the discovery!
She sat down now, however, with an entirelynon-committal expression, and Millicent took a place facing her. Apparently she was the one with the message. Hugh wandered to a window overlooking the sea.
How pale the girl was! The shadows under her hazel eyes had not been dust. Those eyes had apparently started out to be brown, but thought better of it. They were surpassingly clear, and they looked now directly into Miss Frink’s.
“I don’t know even yet if it was right for me to come,” she began. “Grandpa thought it wasn’t, for we haven’t the least right to trouble you in your affairs; but it means so much to Grandpa I couldn’t content myself without knowing from your own lips if you are selling our home.”
Miss Frink’s face continued set. A little frown came in her forehead.
“Not that we wouldn’t get used to the thought, but—just at first, it—he made Grandpa look so old—”
“Who did?”
“Mr. Goldstein. He wants to put up an apartment house and he was looking the ground over to see if he could save the elm.”
“Oh, yes. Mr. Goldstein. He is Adèle’s—Mrs. Lumbard’s employer, I believe.”
“Yes, Miss Frink”—the hazel eyes searched the bright eyeglasses—“did Mrs. Lumbard ask you to sell the place?”
“Certainly not. Why do you ask such a question?”
“Because—I’m ashamed to say so, but I’ve thought so much about it. Mrs. Lumbard hates me. I can’t imagine why. I’ve met her on the street. Nobody ever looked at me the way she does.”
Miss Frink threw a quick glance over her shoulder at Hugh, who came back from the window, and stood near Millicent.
“This only came to light yesterday,” he said. “Of course, if you are selling the place, it is all right; but I talked with Grimshaw last night at dinner, and I was not satisfied with his replies, although he claimed to have your authority. If there was anything for you to look into, I thought it best for us to come in person; but, if everything is being done by your order, there is nothing for us to do but kiss you and leave you.”
“I suppose,” Millicent’s voice wavered, “I suppose it would be dreadful to ask you to change your mind, but Grandpa—I don’t know what he will do. He loves every little sprout, and—and there isn’t any other place—”
“Your grandfather seems to be your wholethought,” said Miss Frink. She was definitely frowning now, and her expression was severe.
“He is. I’d do anything—I’m doing something almost disgraceful now in begging you—” The voice stopped, and color came up in the pale cheeks.
Hugh watched his aunt, but there was no change in her expression.
“We thought if there was any question in your mind,” he said, “that we would leave the car here, and you would return with us on the train.”
Miss Frink looked at her watch. “The train went while we were eating,” she said. “There isn’t another until evening, but I think I will go back with you. Meanwhile”—her set face lightened—“I suggest that this girl lie down and rest while you take me for a drive.”
“That’ll be bully!” agreed Hugh.
Millicent tried to control her trembling lips as she followed Miss Frink’s movement and rose. The latter went into the next room to put on her hat.
Hugh took the young girl’s hands, and she drew them away gently. “Don’t you see,” he said softly, “that that is hopeful?”
“I don’t know. Oh, she looked so hard. I’m afraid of her when she is the Queen of Farrandale.”
“But she wouldn’t go with us if it were settled. You see that?”
“Then, why couldn’t she say one encouraging word?”
“Because she doesn’t know how far Grimshaw has gone. He said he had full authority. Perhaps now she wishes she hadn’t given it to him.”
Miss Frink came back. “Think how many times you’ve put me to sleep, Millicent. Now you let the ocean do the same for you. Go right into that room and make yourself comfortable. Lie down on my bed and don’t think about anything but the waves.”
They left her, and Miss Frink looked at the car admiringly as Hugh drove it around to the hotel steps. It had been cleaned into new blueness again, and she sank into the low seat and breathed a sigh of satisfaction as it rolled smoothly away.
“Poor Millicent,” said Hugh. He meant it as a gentle hint that now they were alone his aunt might confide in him on the affair that had brought them. Evidently nothing was further from her intention.
“Yes, I hope she gets to sleep,” she returned. “Could anything run smoother than this, Hugh?”
The brisk ocean breeze swept past them. Hugh accepted the dismissal of his little love. He glanced around at his companion’s strong features, set now in perfect contentment.
“I’m the lover she never had,” he reflected, “and the husband she never had, and the son she never had, and the grandson she thought she had, but he comes right away and tells her he loves somebody else. Tough, I’ll say.”
They were speeding along the road near the sea, and passing summer homes set far apart.
“You will like to have the car in New York this fall, Hugh.”
“It sure would be a big luxury.”
“You and Mr. Ogden would enjoy it—when I wasn’t there.”
Miss Frink looked around at her chauffeur and smiled, and he smiled back, valiantly, though he was thinking that Millicent was probably not asleep, but staring at the sea with dry, troubled eyes.
“You will come, of course, Aunt Susanna, if I go to law school there?”
“Yes, I think I should cultivate quite an intimacy with New York under those circumstances. I’d bring her with me sometimes, too.” Again she met Hugh’s eyes, and the sudden light in them rewarded her.
There was no other reference to Millicent during the long drive, and they returned to find the girl sitting on the porch. Her white face pulled on Hugh’s heartstrings.
Miss Frink asked her if she had slept, and she replied that she had had a fine rest; and she asked interested questions about the drive until Miss Frink went into the house to pack her bag.
“Did she say anything more?” asked the girl eagerly.
“Nothing—except that when I am in New York at the law school she will bring you to see me.”
Millicent’s questioning expression faded. “I shan’t be there to bring,” she said quietly; “we shall have to move away into the country somewhere.”
“But that showed that she likes you, Millicent—that all those absurd ideas about your not satisfying her don’t amount to anything. I told her. She knows what I want.”
“I understand better than you do.” Millicent smiled faintly. “She knows you haven’t met girls of your own kind yet, and what changes a year may bring; but she wants to keep you happy.”
They were able to get a chair car on the trainthat night. Miss Frink and Hugh sat in adjoining seats, and Millicent in the third leaned back with closed eyes and thought of her grandfather, and tried to make plans for their future. She worked to exclude the radiant possibility which had dawned on her in the wonderful ride of the morning. Every joy she had ever dreamed of was embraced in the thought of a life with Hugh; but it was too sudden, he was too young to know what he wanted, and she was sure that Miss Frink’s plans and ambitions for him made the idea of little Milly Duane an absurdity. The Queen of Farrandale should see that her attitude was completely shared by Millicent herself.
The train was late in starting, and, by reason of detention along the way, it was after eleven o’clock when it pulled into Farrandale. They took a station taxicab and drove to Miss Frink’s house, intending that, after the lady had entered, Hugh, mindful of Colonel Duane’s exhortation, would take Millicent home; but as they approached, they were surprised to see the lower floor of the house brightly lighted, and an automobile parked before it.
“Come in with us, Millicent,” said Miss Frink. “We may as well see what this illumination means before you go home.”
Hugh let them into the hall with his latch-key,and laughter from the end of the corridor showed that the study was occupied. Miss Frink led the way and was first to enter the room. She stood for a moment while the gay laughter died on the lips of her secretary and Adèle Lumbard as they stared at the apparition. Mr. Goldstein was standing by Miss Frink’s flat-topped desk, and apparently had just laid upon it a handful of gold pieces. Millicent would have shrunk back, but Hugh held her firmly by the arm and they followed Miss Frink as she moved into the room.
Besides herself, Mr. Goldstein was the only unembarrassed member of the company.
“In the nick of time, Miss Frink,” he said, advancing with an air of cordial welcome. He made a move toward shaking hands, but the expression on the face of the Queen of Farrandale discouraged him.
There succeeded a silent space while she walked to the desk and picked up a paper bearing her signature.
Her dark, bright gaze jumped to Grimshaw.
“I just wondered,” she said. The secretary had grown very pale, and it was difficult to face her; but he did so. Adèle stepped nearer to him. “So you did use your power of attorney,” she added.
“Certainly,” replied Grimshaw, with all the dignity he could command. “As you know, I am always looking out for advantageous business moves for you. Here was one that was extraordinary. The sale of that corner where the Duanes have been living, to be used for an apartment house, could only be made to a man of Mr. Goldstein’s means—”
“And generosity.” Miss Frink’s interruption was curt to fierceness. She grasped the gold coins and let them jingle back on the desk.
The purchaser spoke cheerfully. “Oh, it was all the same to me,” he said. “Mrs. Lumbard, she is the lady that loves the gold.” He laughed toward Adèle and wagged his head. “She likes her salary in those good little solid pieces. Isn’t it so, lovely lady?”
Miss Frink’s glance flashed at Adèle. “But this is not her salary, I judge.”
Mr. Goldstein shrugged deprecatingly. “Oh, no, Mr. Grimshaw has been very obliging.”
“Leonard, I feel that you had help in all this.” The speaker regarded her secretary with deep feeling. “You would not have done it, alone.”
Grimshaw could not speak; and Adèle saw it. She cast a defiant, angry glance at Hugh and Millicent, silent spectators of the scene. The girl’s hands were unconsciously on her heart as hopesprang in it for her grandfather’s deliverance.
“Miss Frink,” cried Adèle, “you have no right to be speaking to Leonard as though he were a criminal when he never thinks of anything but your good. You were not here, and he acted for you.”
“Yes, madam,” said Mr. Goldstein, grave now that he saw the transaction was displeasing, “I certainly understood that everything was correct. I have acted in good faith.”
“I have no doubt of it,” returned Miss Frink. “Gather up that gold, if you please. My employes do not receive bribes.”
Mr. Goldstein mechanically obeyed, and his troubled gaze rested on her.
“But I have paid good money down to clinch this bargain,” he said.
Miss Frink’s genuine distress at her secretary’s sordid action lightened at some thought.
She smiled at her young people, and Grimshaw cast a baleful look at Hugh who had precipitated this scene. Anxiety again clutched at Millicent’s heart. Miss Frink had not been mercenary. She had not ignored the love of Colonel Duane for his simple, happy life, and she was powerful. The girl studied her face now for encouragement that, no matter how far matters had gone, she could save them.
“You should not withdraw from this, Miss Frink,” said Grimshaw, inspired by a fiery look from Adèle. “Indeed, it is not at all certain that you can do so, legally.”
The lady’s smile faded. “You didn’t delve into this matter quite far enough, Grim. Had you happened to examine my deposit box, you and I would both have been spared something. Mr. Goldstein”—the speaker turned to the would-be purchaser—“your money will be returned to you. Mr. Grimshaw was unaware that the Duane homestead does not belong to me any longer. I learned rather recently that some one dear to me had expressed admiration for it, and the last thing I did before leaving town was to transfer that property. I did not speak of the transaction to any one: not even to the new owner.”
The secretary’s spectacles regarded her, shining in a very white face.
Mr. Goldstein returned to the charge. “Then the property might still be for sale,” he said argumentatively.
“I think not,” returned Miss Frink. “I have reason to believe that it will be held for—well, it will not be regarded commercially. I am sorry for your disappointment, Mr. Goldstein, and I will bid you good-night.”
“Good-night, then, madam, and I shall hope for a more fruitful meeting some day,” he returned.
Hugh and Millicent were blind to the exit of the three, who moved quickly out of the room.
In that minute Hugh’s heart leaped, for the Queen of Farrandale, who never did anything by halves, drew Millicent away from him and, passing an arm around her, held her close. The girl flushed with pleasure in the loving caress, for the bright old eyes that met hers were blurred.
“Come here, Hugh.” Her free hand drew him. “He is your landlord now, Millicent. I hope he will be a good one.”
The boy threw his arms around the pair, and held them. “I don’t know what to do with you, Aunt Susanna,” he said unsteadily.
“Why, of course, I had to give you an engagement present,” she returned.
The surprise and relief of the moment seemed to center in the radiant young creature whose rosy cheek Miss Frink’s lips were pressing.
“Millicent!” cried the lover softly, and there was a wealth of joy present, and joy to come, in the exclamation. “Millicent!”