"George," said Mrs. Vincent Benedict, "I want you to do something for me."
"Certainly, mother, anything I can."
"Well, it's only to go to dinner with me to-night. Our pastor's wife has
telephoned me that she wants us very much. She especially emphasized you.
She said she absolutely needed you. It was a case of charity, and she
would be so grateful to you if you would come. She has a young friend with
her who is very sad, and she wants to cheer her up. Now don't frown. I
won't bother you again this week. I know you hate dinners and girls. But
really, George, this is an unusual case. The girl is just home from
Europe, and buried her grandmother yesterday. She hasn't a soul in the
world belonging to her that can be with her, and the pastor's wife has
asked her over to dinner quietly. Of course she isn't going out. She must
be in mourning. And you know you're fond of the doctor."
"Yes, I'm fond of the doctor," said George, frowning discouragedly; "but
I'd rather take him alone, and not with a girl flung at me everlastingly.
I'm tired of it. I didn't think it of Christian people, though; I thought
she was above such things."
"Now, George," said his mother severely, "that's a real insult to the
girl, and to our friend too. She hasn't an idea of doing any such thing.
It seems this girl is quite unusual, very religious, and our friend
thought you would be just the one to cheer her. She apologized several
times for presuming to ask you to help her. You really will have to go."
"Well, who is this paragon, anyway? Any one I know? I s'pose I've got to
go."
"Why, she's a Miss Bailey," said the mother, relieved. "Mrs. Wilton
Merrill Bailey's granddaughter. Did you ever happen to meet her? I never
did."
"Never heard of her," growled George. "Wish I hadn't now."
"George!"
"Well, mother, go on. I'll be good. What does she do? Dance, and play
bridge, and sing?"
"I haven't heard anything that she does," said his mother, laughing.
"Well, of course she's a paragon; they all are, mother. I'll be ready in
half an hour. Let's go and get it done. We can come home early, can't we?"
Mrs. Benedict sighed. If only George would settle down on some suitable
girl of good family! But he was so queer and restless. She was afraid for
him. Ever since she had taken him away to Europe, when she was so ill, she
had been afraid for him. He seemed so moody and absent-minded then and
afterwards. Now this Miss Bailey was said to be as beautiful as she was
good. If only George would take a notion to her!