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CHAPTER III
SUSAN TO THE RESCUE
The day that Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield were to start on their trip to the mountains came during what is known as "a hot spell." It was one of those days when life seems almost unbearable,—when the slightest exertion seems impossible.
There was no breeze from the ocean, and the faint, languid land breeze that now and then gave an uncertain puff, was about as refreshing as a heat-wave from an opened furnace door.
At the breakfast table, Patty tried to persuade them not to go that day. "You'll faint in the train, Nan, on a day like this," she said. "Do wait until to-morrow."
"There's no prospect of its being any better to-morrow," said Mr. Fairfield, looking anxious; "and I think the sooner Nan gets away, the better. She needs cool, bracing mountain air. The seashore doesn't agree with her as it does with you, Patty."
"I know it," said Patty, who loved hot weather. "Well, perhaps you'd better go, then; but it will be just BOILING on the train."
"No more so than here," said Nan, smiling. She wore a light pongee silk travelling gown, which was the coolest garb she could think of. "But what's bothering me is that Mrs. Parsons hasn't arrived yet."
"Oh, she'll come to-day," said Patty. "Mona says she telegraphed yesterday that it was too hot to travel, but she'd surely come to-day."
Mrs. Parsons was the aunt who was to chaperon the two girls at "Red Chimneys," and Nan wanted to see the lady before she gave Patty into her charge.
"But it's going to be just as warm to-day," went on Nan. "Suppose she can't travel to-day, either?"
"Oh, she'll have to," said Patty, lightly. "If you can travel, I guess she can. Now, Nan, don't bother about her. You've enough to do to think of yourself and try to keep cool. I'm glad Louise is going with you. She's a good nurse, and you must let her take care of you."
Louise was the lady's maid who looked after the welfare of both Nan and Patty. But as Patty was going to a house where servants were more than plentiful, it had been arranged that Louise should accompany Nan.
"Don't talk as if I were an invalid, Patty. I'm sensitive to the heat, I admit, and this weather is excessive. But I'm not ill, and once I get a whiff of mountain air I'll be all right."
"I know it, Nancy; and so fly away and get it. And don't waste a thought on poor, worthless me, for I shall be as happy as a clam. I just love broiling, sizzling weather, and I'm sure my experiences at Mona's will be novel—if nothing else,—and novelty is always interesting."
"I hope you will have a good time, Patty, but it all seems so queer. To go off and leave you with that girl, and an aunt whom we have never even seen!"
"Well, I'll see her this afternoon, and if she won't give me a photograph of herself for you, I'll draw you a pen portrait of the Dragon Lady."
"I hope she will be a Dragon, for you need some one to keep you steady. You mean to do right, but you're so thoughtless and impulsive of late. I'm afraid it's growing on you, Patty."
"And I'm afraid you're a dear old goose! The heat has gone to your head. Now, forget me and my vagaries, and devote all your time and attention to the consideration of Mrs. Frederick Fairfield."
"Ready, Nan?" called her husband from the doorway, and then there was a flurry of leave-takings, and final advices, and last words, and good-bye embraces; and then the motor-car rolled down the drive carrying the travellers away, and Patty dropped into a veranda chair to realise that she was her own mistress.
Not that her father or Nan were over strict with her; they merely exercised the kind and gentle supervision that every young girl ought to have. But sometimes, of late, Patty had chafed a little at their restrictions, and though she had no desire to do anything they would disapprove of, she enjoyed the novel sense of entire freedom of action. However, to be responsible to nobody at all seemed to make Patty feel an added responsibility of her own behaviour, so she went into the house, determined to do all she ought to do as mistress there. Though her time for such duties was short. The Fairfields had been obliged to leave on an early morning train, and Patty was not to go to Mona's until late in the afternoon. She had, therefore, several hours, and she went systematically to work, looking through each room to make sure all was in order for closing the house. She put away some books and some bits of choice bric-a-brac, and then went out to interview the cook.
"Yes, Miss Patty," said that worthy, in answer to her enquiries, "I've enough av food for yer luncheon, an' thin I'll dispose av the schraps, and lave the refrigerators clane an' empty."
"That's right, Susan," said Patty, in most housekeeperly tones; "and will you go away in time for me to lock up the house after you?"
"Yes, Miss; Mrs. Fairfield said we was all to go at five o'clock. Thin Miller will lock up, and give yersilf the keys."
Patty knew these matters had all been arranged by her parents, but it pleased her to assume an authority.
"Very well, Susan," she said. "And where are you all going?" "Jane, she's going to take another place, Miss; but I'm going to me sister's for a time. It's a rest I'm nadin'."
Patty looked kindly at the cook. She had never really talked with her before, as Nan a capable and sufficient housewife, and Patty was a little surprised to see what a fine-looking woman Susan was. She was Irish, but of the best type. A large, well-built figure, and a sensible, intelligent face. Her abundant hair was slightly grey, and her still rosy cheeks and dark blue eyes indicated her nationality. Though she spoke with a soft burr, her brogue was not very noticeable, and Patty felt irresistibly drawn to her.
"If you want anything, Susan," she said, "or if I can help you in any way, come to me at once. I shall be at 'Red Chimneys' for two months, you know."
"Thank you, Miss Patty. I'm thinkin' I'll be fair comfortable at my sister's. But if you do be goin' by in yer autymobile, wave yer hand, just. It'd please us all. You know the house,—down on the Scudder Road."
"Yes, I know, Susan. I often pass there, and I'll wave my hand at you every time."
Patty went back to her own room, and continued her preparations for her visit to Mona. Although "Red Chimneys" was but two blocks away, the packing to be done was the same as if for a more distant destination. Many of Patty's things had already been sent over, and now she was looking up some favourite books and music to take with her. Though, of course, she would have the keys of her own home, and could return for anything she might want.
Patty expected to go over to Mona's at five o'clock, but at about four Mona herself came flying over to "The Pebbles." She waved a yellow telegram, and before Patty heard what was in it, she divined that Mrs. Parsons had again postponed her arrival.
And this was the truth.
"Doctor fears sunstroke. Advises me to wait until to-morrow," the message read, and Patty and Mona looked at each other in blank dismay.
"Father doesn't know this," said Mona. "You see, he left this morning for New York. His steamer sails this afternoon. Of course, he was sure Aunt Adelaide would come to-day. What shall we do, Patty?"
"Well, of course it's too bad. But I'm not afraid to stay alone one night without your aunt. You've so many servants, I'm sure there's no danger of fire or burglars."
"Oh, it isn't that, Patty! I'm not afraid of such things. But, you see, we've no chaperon,—just us two girls there alone,—it isn't proper."
"Well," Patty laughed, "we can't help it. And if we have no callers, and go to bed early, no one will be the wiser, and surely, your aunt will come to-morrow."
"Oh, I hope she will! I'll telegraph her she MUST! But,—Patty,—you see—well, I shall have to tell you!"
"Tell me what?"
"Why, just this: I have invited a little party to welcome you this evening. Not many,—just about a dozen of the boys and girls. And how can we receive them without Aunt Adelaide there?"
"For mercy's sake, Mona! Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise,—to welcome you to 'Red Chimneys.'"
"Yes, I know. Well, what CAN we do? We must do something! Shall I telephone to Mrs. Sayre to come and chaperon us?"
"She can't come. She has a house party coming to-day. The Sayre girls are coming to us to-night, but Mrs. Sayre has some older guests, and she couldn't come."
"Well, let's ask Mrs. Dennison. No, she's away, I know. How about Mrs. Lockwood?"
"She's ill; Lena told me so this morning. Oh, Patty, shall I have to send them all word not to come?"
"Looks that way to me. And I'm sorry to do that, too. How many are asked, Mona?"
"About twelve, counting you and me. I thought it would be such a nice welcome for you."
"And so it would! You're a dear to think of it. I suppose your things are all ordered?"
"Yes; a caterer will bring the supper. I don't know what it will be,—cook looked after it."
"Cook! Cook! Mona—I have an idea! No, I haven't, either! It's too crazy! Oh, DO you suppose we could? LET'S!"
"Patty, are YOU crazy? What ARE you talking about? And it's almost five o'clock. I suppose I must telephone them not to come! Well, I'll go home and do it, and you come on over as soon as you're ready. We'll spend the evening alone in my boudoir, and we'll amuse ourselves somehow."
"Wait a minute, Mona. Let me think. Yes, I do believe I'll do it! Mona, suppose I provide a chaperon. Will it be all right to have the party then?"
"Why, yes, if it's a proper kind of a lady,—of course it will."
Patty's eyes twinkled. "I don't know whether you'll think her a proper lady or not," she said, "but I do."
She rang a nearby bell, and when Jane answered, she asked her to send Susan, the cook, in.
Susan came, and stood respectfully awaiting Patty's orders.
"Susan," Patty began, "you're married, aren't you?"
"Yes, Miss Patty; me name is Hastings. Me husband is dead this four years, rist his sowl."
"Well, Susan, I want you to do something for me, and you may think it's very queer, but you'll do it, won't you?"
"Nothin's quare, Miss Patty, if you bid me do it. What is it, ma'am?"
Mona began to look a little scared, but Patty seemed now quite sure of her own mind, and she began, in a kind but firm voice:
"Susan, Miss Mona and I expected to have a party at her house to-night, but her aunt, who was to chaperon us, hasn't arrived. So I want you, Susan, to let me fix you up, and dress you in a proper gown, and then I want you to act as a lady who is visiting at 'Red Chimneys.' Can you do this?"
It was funny to see the varying expressions on Susan's face. Wonder, amusement, and docility followed each other in quick succession, and then she said:
"Is it a masqueradin', belike, you want, Miss Patty?"
"Yes; just that, Susan. Could you do it?"
"Av coorse I cud do it, if you be wantin' me to; but wud I look good enough, Miss?"
"You'd look all right, after I dressed you; but, Susan, could you talk with less,—less accent?"
"Me brogue, is it, Miss? Faith, an' I fear I can't be after conquerin' that! It's born in me."
"Patty," said Mona, "I think your scheme is crazy,—perfectly CRAZY! But—if you really mean it, I'll tell you that I HAVE an Irish aunt,—at least, sort of Scotch-Irish,—and if we pass Susan off for her, the—the ACCENT won't matter."
"Just the thing!" cried Patty, gleefully. "I see my way clear now! It IS a crazy plan, Mona, I admit that,—but do you know of any better?"
"No; but, Patty, think a minute. Of course, the truth will leak out, and what will people say?"
"No, it won't leak out,—and, if it did, what harm? Susan is a nice, respectable woman, and as a member of my family is capable of chaperoning me in her own personality. But I choose this other game because it's more fun. I shall dress her up in,—in,—Susan, you couldn't wear a gown of Mrs. Fairfield's, could you?"
"The saints presarve us, Miss Patty, it wuddent go halfway round me!"
"No; so it wouldn't. Well, I'll find something. Oh, there's a gown in the attic that Mrs. Allen left here—she's Nan's mother, Mona,—that will be just right. It's grey satin and silver lace. Oh, Susan, you'll look GREAT!"
Mona still seemed a trifle unconvinced.
"Patty," she said, "you know I usually think what you do is all right,—but this,—well, this seems so very crazy."
"Mona, my child," said Patty, serenely, "I warned you that our ways might clash, and you said I might do exactly as I chose while at 'Red Chimneys.'"
"So I did, Patty,—and so I do. I'll go home now, and leave the rest of this performance to you. Come over soon, won't you?"
"Yes," said Patty, "I'll be there for dinner. Good-bye, Mona."
After Mona had gone, Patty turned to Susan.
"You know, Susan, this is to be a dead secret. Don't ever tell anybody. And you must obey my orders implicitly. I'll pay you something extra for your trouble."
"Sure, it's no trouble at all, Miss Patty. I'd do anything for ye, whativer. But you must be afther tellin' me just what to do."
"Of course I will. And, first of all, Susan, you must go home,—I mean, to your sister's,—get your dinner there, and then come to 'Red Chimneys' about half-past seven and ask for me. They'll bring you right up to my room, and I'll dress you up as I think best. Then we'll take you down to the drawing-room, and all you'll have to do, Susan, is to sit there all the evening in a big easy chair. Can you knit, Susan?"
"Yes, Miss Patty."
"Well, bring a piece of knitting work, not an old grey thing,—a piece of nice, fleecy white wool work. Have you any?"
"I've not, Miss, but I'll get some white yarn from my sister, and start a shawl or a tippet."
"Yes; do that. Then you just sit there, you know, and knit and glance around the room now and then, and smile benignly. Can you smile benignly, Susan?"
Susan tried, and after one or two lessons from Patty, was pronounced proficient in that art.
"Then, Susan, if there's music, you must listen, and wag your head in appreciation, so! When we dance, you must look on with interest and again smile benignly. Not many of the young people will talk to you, except to be introduced at first, but if they do, answer them pleasantly, and use your brogue as little as possible. Do you understand, Susan?"
And as Susan possessed the quick wit and ready adaptability of her race, she did see; and as she adored her young mistress above any one on earth, she was only too willing to please her; and, too, the occasion had its charms for a good-hearted, hard-working Irishwoman.
She declared her willingness to obey Patty's orders, promised to keep it all a profound secret, and then went away to her sister's house until the appointed time.
CHAPTER IV
A PERFECTLY GOOD CHAPERON
It was nearly six o'clock when Patty reached "Red Chimneys." She carried a bandbox, and Miller, who followed her, carried a large suitcase, and various other parcels.
Mona met them at the door, and, directing that the luggage be sent to Patty's rooms, she carried her visitor off to her own boudoir.
"Patty," she began, "I can't let you carry out that ridiculous scheme! I'm going to telephone to the young people not to come."
"Haven't telephoned yet, have you?" enquired Patty, carelessly, as she flung herself into an easy-chair, and made vigorous use of a large fan.
"No; I waited to tell you. But I'm going to begin now," and Mona lifted a telephone receiver from its hook.
"Oh, I wouldn't," said Patty, smiling at her hostess. "You see, I've set my heart on having this party, and I'd hate to have you upset it."
"But, Patty, consider how—"
"Consider,—cow—consider! Well, my fair lady, I have considered, and I must request you to hang up that telephone, and trust all to me."
When Patty adopted this tone, playful but decided, Mona knew she could do nothing with her. So she hung up the receiver, but she still showed a troubled expression as she looked questioningly at pretty Patty.
But that provoking young person only smiled at her, and slowly waved her big fan.
"Awfully warm, even yet, isn't it?" she said. "What time is dinner, Mona? I've a lot to do before that party of yours comes off."
"I ordered dinner early, so we'd have time to dress afterward. Come, Patty, I'll show you your rooms."
The two girls rose, and standing in front of Mona, Patty began to smooth the lines from the other's brow, with her own finger tips.
"There there," she said; "don't worry. Trust all to Smarty-Patty! She'll do the trick. And just turn up the corners of your mouth a little, so!"
Patty poked her forefingers into Mona's cheeks till she made her smile, and then Mona gave up.
"All right, Patty," she said. "I said you should have your own way, and so you shall! Get Miller to chaperon us, if you want to,—I won't say a word! Now, come on with me."
She led Patty across the hall to the suite of rooms prepared for her. Like everything else at "Red Chimneys," it was on a far grander scale than Patty's own home.
There was a boudoir, bedroom, dressing-room, and bath, all fitted up in the prettiest, daintiest manner.
The ivory-tinted walls showed panels of rose-coloured brocade, ornate with gilded decorations in Empire style. The marquetry furniture and bisque ornaments carried out the scheme, and though elaborate, the rooms were most attractive and comfortable.
Patty herself preferred simpler furnishings, but she knew that Mona didn't, and she exclaimed with delight at the beauty of appointments.
"It's out best suite," said Mona, complacently, "and I've had it fixed up freshly for you."
"It's charming," declared Patty, "and I know I shall be very happy here,—IF I can have my own way!" She smiled as she spoke, but she was in earnest, too, for Mona was dictatorial by nature, and Patty by no means proposed to be tyrannised over.
"You shall, Patty! All the time you are here, your word shall be law in this house, both over the servants and myself."
"Oh, I can manage the servants," cried Patty, gaily. "I'm rather good at that. Now, if I can only manage you!"
"You can! I'll prove so manageable and docile, you'll scarcely know me!"
So, having flown her colours, Patty wagged her head sagaciously as Mona went away. "I think, Miss Fairfield," she observed to her reflection in a gold-garlanded mirror, "that you're in for a pleasant summer. Firmness tempered with kindness must be your plan; and I'm pretty sure you can, in that way, manage Mona without friction."
Humming snatches of song to herself, Patty continued to explore her new domain. The rose-coloured boudoir opened into a dainty bedroom done in white and gold. Everywhere white silk or lace curtains were looped back with Frenchy pink satin rosebuds, and the gilded furniture, with its embroidered satin cushions, made the room look fit for a princess. Patty laughed with glee, for she loved dainty prettiness and this was a novel change from her own simpler belongings.
From the bedroom she went on to the dressing-room and bathroom; the former replete with all known appurtenances to Milady's toilette, and the latter a bewildering vista of marble, silver, and glass.
Dinner was a gay little feast. Although Patty had dined once or twice before at "Red Chimneys," it had been with her parents at formal dinners, and they had been examples of the unrestrained elegance which Mr. Galbraith deemed the correct way of displaying his wealth.
The Fairfields had assumed that the overelaborateness was due to the festive occasion, but Patty now perceived that the same formality of service was observed with only the two girls at the table. And the menu was long and varied enough to have served a dinner party.
Of course, it all appealed to Patty's sense of humour, but as it was Mona's habit to dine under the supervision of three or four serving-men, Patty was quite willing to accept the situation placidly. The servants, however, were no bar to their gay chatter. Except that they did not refer to the expected temporary chaperon, they discussed all the details of the evening's party.
Many of the courses of the dinner they dismissed without tasting, and so, by half-past seven, Patty was back in her own rooms, and Mrs. Hastings appeared promptly at the hour. A maid named Janet had been appointed to look after Patty personally, but she was dismissed, with instructions to return at eight, and then Patty began her transformation scene.
It was not accomplished without some few difficulties, and much giggling, but by eight o'clock, Patty and Mona surveyed a most acceptable looking chaperon, due to their own handiwork. Susan, or Mrs. Hastings, as they called her, looked the picture of a kindly, dignified matron. Her grey hair was done in a simple, becoming fashion, and ornamented with a spray of silver tinsel leaves. The grey satin gown of Mrs. Allen's, which Patty had appropriated without compunction, fitted fairly well, and a fichu of old lace, prettily draped, concealed any deficiencies. Though possessing no elegance of manner, Susan had quiet ways, and being observant by nature, she remembered the demeanour of ladies she had worked for, and carried herself so well that Patty and Mona were satisfied as to her ability to carry out their purpose.
Patty provided Mrs. Hastings with a black feather fan, and gave her a quick lesson in the art of using it. The piece of white knitting work proved satisfactory on inspection, and after a few final injunctions, Patty pronounced the "chaperon" complete.
Then she called for Janet, and hastily proceeded to make her own toilette. She chose a white silk muslin, dotted with tiny pink rosebuds, and further ornamented with fluttering ends of pale pink ribbon. The frock was cut a little low at the throat, and had short sleeves, and very cool and sweet Patty looked in it. Her gold curls were piled high on her head, and kept there by a twist of pink ribbon. She wore no jewelry, and the simple attire was very becoming to the soft, babyish curves of her neck and dimpled arms.
Mona appeared in rose-coloured chiffon, richly embroidered. The gown, though beautiful of itself, was not appropriate for such a warm night; but Mona had not Patty's sense of harmony, and had added a heavy necklace and bracelets of wrought Roman gold.
"You'll melt in all that toggery!" said Patty, bluntly, and Mona sighed as she saw Patty's diaphanous frock. Then, led by Mrs. Hastings, they went down to the drawing-room. They put Susan through a few lessons in introductions, practised calling her "Aunt Rachel," and bolstered up her failing courage by telling her how well she looked.
The first guest to arrive was Jack Pennington. Being a graceful mannered boy he acknowledged his introduction to Mrs. Hastings with just the correct blending of deference and cordiality. "Isn't it warm?" he said, and as this required no answer save, "It is, indeed," Susan acquitted herself creditably, and even refrained from saying "indade." Then the others came, and being a merry crowd of young people, they merely paused for a word or two with the elderly stranger, before turning away to their own interests. And, if by chance, one or two showed a tendency to linger and converse with her, Patty and Mona were at hand to take up the burden of the conversation.
After all had arrived, Patty conducted Susan to a pleasant seat near an open window, provided her with her knitting and a book, and gave her a whispered permission to doze a little if she wished to.
So far as the girls could see, not one of the guests had suspected that Mrs. Hastings was other than an aunt of Mona's, nor had they given her a second thought. To their minds a chaperon was a necessary piece of furniture, but of only a momentary interest. She must be greeted, and later, she must be bidden farewell, but no conversation with her between times was necessary.
The party was a pretty one. Usually, the Spring Beach people didn't care much to go to "Red Chimneys," for Mona was not a favourite. But Patty was, and, invited to meet her, every one accepted. And the large rooms, cooled by electric fans, and decorated with lovely flowers and softly shaded lights, looked somehow more attractive, now that Patty Fairfield's graceful figure was flitting through them.
After one of the dances, Patty drifted across the room and stood near Susan. That worthy was dutifully looking over her book, and occasionally glancing thoughtfully round the room.
"Keep it up, Susan!" whispered Patty. "You're a howling success! Everything's all right."
"Come for a stroll on the veranda, Patty," said Jack Pennington, coming up to her. "Mayn't I take her, Mrs. Hastings, if I'll be very careful of her?"
"Shure an' ye may, sir," said Susan, heartily, caught off her guard by this sudden request.
Jack Pennington stared at her, and Susan's eyes fell and her face turned red in deepest dismay lest she had disgraced her beloved Miss Patty. In a despairing effort to remedy her indiscretion she assumed a haughty tone and said, "You have my permission. Go with the young gentleman, Miss Patty." And with an air of having accomplished her duty successfully, Susan picked up her knitting.
Patty's twitching lips and flushed cheeks made quick-witted Jack Pennington suspect a joke somewhere, but he gravely offered his arm, and as they reached the broad veranda and walked toward a moonlighted corner of it, he said, "Interesting lady, that new aunt of Mona's, isn't she?"
"Very," said Patty, trying not to laugh.
"I always like that foreign accent," went on Jack; "is it,—er—French?"
"Well, no," opined Patty. "I don't think Mrs. Hastings IS French."
"Ah, German, then, perhaps. I've heard that particular accent before, but I can't just place it."
"I think it's sort of,—of Scotch, don't you?"
"Faith, an' I don't, thin! I'm afther thinkin' she's a daughter av ould Ireland, arrah."
Jack's imitation of Susan's brogue was so funny that Patty laughed outright.
"Perhaps the lady IS Irish," she said; "but she looks charming, and so well-dressed."
"That's so. She IS much better dressed than when I saw her last."
"Saw her last! What do you mean?"
"Well, of course I MAY be mistaken, but do you know, she looks like a—like a lady I saw once in the kitchen garden at 'The Pebbles.'"
"And pray what were you doing in that kitchen garden?"
"Well, I was helping Miller look after your motor one day, and I strolled around the house, back to the front veranda that way. And,"—Jack's voice sank to an impressive whisper,—"there in the midst of the cabbages and eggplants,—there stood Mrs. Hastings,—I'm SURE it was she,—in a calico gown and checked apron!"
"Oh, Jack!" and Patty burst into laughter. "She IS our cook! Don't give it away, will you?"
"Never! Never! But WHAT a joke! Does no one know it?"
"No one at all but Mona and myself. You see—" And then Patty told the whole story.
"Well, that's the best ever!" declared Jack as she finished. "Patty, you do beat all! No one else will guess, I'm sure,—and I'LL never tell. But it's most too good a joke to keep, now, isn't it?"
"But it's going to BE kept! Why, if some people knew of it, they'd drum me out of Spring Beach. And anyway, Jack, I wouldn't have done it, if Susan hadn't been such a dear respectable person herself."
"I'm sure she is, and to show I believe it, I'll take her out to supper."
"Gracious, goodness, Jack! I never thought of supper! Will she have to eat with us?"
"Of course she will! And, as I say, I'll take her out, so there'll be no danger of further discovery."
Patty giggled again. The idea of SUSAN being escorted out to the dining-room of "Red Chimneys"! And by Jack Pennington, the most aristocratic young man in their set!
"All right," she said. "But I must sit the other side of you. I want to keep my eye on her."
And so it came to pass that when supper was announced, Jack went up gallantly and offered his arm to the chaperon.
This seemed quite natural and proper to the other guests, and they paid little attention as Mrs. Hastings rose with dignity, and, with her escort, led the procession.
Susan was resolved to make up for her blunder, and she carried herself with an air of hauteur, and trailed the grey satin gown after her quite as if she were used to such.
"It is a beautiful home, is it not, Mrs. Hastings?" said Jack, by way of making conversation.
"It is, sir," returned Susan, careful of speech and accent, but unable to forget her deference. "Such airy rooms and fine, high ceilings."
Jack couldn't help admiring her aplomb, and he chatted away easily in an endeavour to put her at her ease.
"Will you sit here, Mrs. Hastings?" he said, offering her the seat at the head of the table, as became the chaperon of the party.
Susan hesitated, but catching Mona's nod of acquiescence, she sank gracefully into the armchair Jack held for her.
