anything should happen to you, and I were away—not that it would be any less awful if I were here, but the idea of being away somehow makes it seem more possible that something might happen—my not being here to warn you to be careful and to be silly about you—ah, Floyd, you're laughing, but you will be careful, won't you?—for you see, you must see, how much you mean."
Floyd kissed her and laughed and said that she must not worry about him. He knew why she was nervous; she wanted to get away into the country where she could rest. She admitted that perhaps she was tired. "At Ridgewood you won't have so many complications," Floyd said, and she smiled a little. "No, it's simple—comparatively—there," she answered. "Good-night, Floyd; we'll drive out to New Rome to-morrow."
The next morning Mrs. Halket and Floyd alighted at Mrs. Bell's gate from the victoria that had been the amazement of all the women who lived upon the street and happened to be looking out of their windows at that hour. Mrs. Bell was one of these and was filled with consternation and pride. "How ever shall I go to the door!" she exclaimed, bursting into the dining-room where her daughter sat sewing. And at that moment the bell rang. "It's Mr. Halket and the old lady herself—in their carriage—and me looking as I am. Go, for goodness gracious, child, and hold them in the parlor till I can change my dress."
"I don't look any too well myself," observed Letty, with feminine dissatisfaction, but her mother was already on the stairs. "Well, somebody's got to answer the bell," and she rose, and with her capable hands pushed and puffed her mass of brilliant hair up above her ears. Then, smoothing out her dress, she went to the door.
"This is my grandmother, Miss Bell," Floyd said to her. "She thought she would like to see the room; she's going away next week and wants to give me some pictures and things for it."
