"I'm so glad,Miss Dryfoos,to find that I was not quite a stranger to you all when I ventured to call,the other day.Your brother and I are rather old acquaintances,though I never knew who he was before.I don't know just how to say we met where he is valued so much.I suppose Imustn't try to say how much,"she added,with a look of deep regard at him.
Conrad blushed and stood folding his arms tight over his breast,while his sister received Margaret's confession with the suspicion which was her first feeling in regard to any new thing.What she concluded was that this girl was trying to get in with them,for reasons of her own.
She said:"Yes;it's the first I ever heard of his knowing you.He's so much taken up with his meetings,he didn't want to come to-night."Margaret drew in her lip before she answered,without apparent resentment of the awkwardness or ungraciousness,whichever she found it:"I don't wonder!You become so absorbed in such work that you think nothing else is worth while.But I'm glad Mr.Dryfoos could come with you;I'm so glad you could all come;I knew you would enjoy the music.Do sit down--""No,"said Christine,bluntly;"we must be going.Mela!"she called out,"come!"The last group about Mrs.Horn looked round,but Christine advanced upon them undismayed,and took the hand Mrs.Horn promptly gave her."Well,Imust bid you good-night."
"Oh,good-night,"murmured the elder lady."So very kind of you to come.""I've had the best kind of a time,"said Mela,cordially."I hain't laughed so much,I don't know when.""Oh,I'm glad you enjoyed it,"said Mrs.Horn,in the same polite murmur she had used with Christine;but she said nothing to either sister about any future meeting.
They were apparently not troubled.Mela said over her shoulder to the student of human nature,"The next time I see you I'll give it to you for what you said about Moffitt."Margaret made some entreating paces after them,but she did not succeed in covering the retreat of the sisters against critical conjecture.She could only say to Conrad,as if recurring to the subject,"I hope we can get our friends to play for us some night.I know it isn't any real help,but such things take the poor creatures out of themselves for the time being,don't you think?""Oh yes,"he answered."They're good in that way."He turned back hesitatingly to Mrs.Horn,and said,with a blush,"I thank you for a happy evening.""Oh,I am very glad,"she replied,in her murmur.
One of the old friends of the house arched her eyebrows in saying good-night,and offered the two young men remaining seats home in her carriage.Beaton gloomily refused,and she kept herself from asking the student of human nature,till she had got him into her carriage,"What is Moffitt,and what did you say about it?""Now you see,Margaret,"said Mrs.Horn,with bated triumph,when the people were all gone.
"Yes,I see,"the girl consented."From one point of view,of course it's been a failure.I don't think we've given Miss Dryfoos a pleasure,but perhaps nobody could.And at least we've given her the opportunity of enjoying herself.""Such people,"said Mrs.Horn,philosophically,"people with their money,must of course be received sooner or later.You can't keep them out.
Only,I believe I would rather let some one else begin with them.The Leightons didn't come?""I sent them cards.I couldn't call again."Mrs.Horn sighed a little."I suppose Mr.Dryfoos is one of your fellow-philanthropists?"
"He's one of the workers,"said Margaret."I met him several times at the Hall,but I only knew his first name.I think he's a great friend of Father Benedict;he seems devoted to the work.Don't you think he looks good?""Very,"said Mrs.Horn,with a color of censure in her assent."The younger girl seemed more amiable than her sister.But what manners!""Dreadful!"said Margaret,with knit brows,and a pursed mouth of humorous suffering."But she appeared to feel very much at home.""Oh,as to that,neither of them was much abashed.Do you suppose Mr.Beaton gave the other one some hints for that quaint dress of hers?
I don't imagine that black and lace is her own invention.She seems to have some sort of strange fascination for him.""She's very picturesque,"Margaret explained."And artists see points in people that the rest of us don't.""Could it be her money?"Mrs.Horn insinuated."He must be very poor.""But he isn't base,"retorted the girl,with a generous indignation that made her aunt smile.
"Oh no;but if he fancies her so picturesque,it doesn't follow that he would object to her being rich.""It would with a man like Mr.Beaton!"
"You are an idealist,Margaret.I suppose your Mr.March has some disinterested motive in paying court to Miss Mela--Pamela,I suppose,is her name.He talked to her longer than her literature would have lasted.""He seems a very kind person,"said Margaret.
"And Mr.Dryfoos pays his salary?"
"I don't know anything about that.But that wouldn't make any difference with him."Mrs.Horn laughed out at this security;but she was not displeased by the nobleness which it came from.She liked Margaret to be high-minded,and was really not distressed by any good that was in her.
The Marches walked home,both because it was not far,and because they must spare in carriage hire at any rate.As soon as they were out of the house,she applied a point of conscience to him.
