She had really nothing in common with Parker; their conversation
was composed entirely of personalities about their various
friends, and Leila felt it a great burden, and dreaded the hours
she must perforce spend alone with her future husband. It would be
much better when they were married, of course, but they could not
even begin to talk wedding plans yet, because Parker lived in
nervous terror of his aunt's disapproval, and Mrs. Watts
Frothingham was just now in Europe, and had not yet seen fit to
answer her nephew's dignified notification of his new plans, or
the dutiful and gracious note with which Miss Leila had
accompanied it.
The truth, though Leila did not know it, was that Mrs. Frothingham
had a pretty social secretary named Margaret Clay, a strange,
attractive little person, eighteen years old, whose mother had
been the old lady's companion for many years. And to Magsie, as
they all called her, young Mr. Hoyt had paid some decided
attention not many months before. Mrs. Frothingham had seen fit to
disapprove these advances then, but she was an extraordinarily
erratic and cross-grained old lady, and her silence now had forced
her nephew uncomfortably to suspect that she might have changed
her mind.
"Darn it!" said the engaging youth to himself "It's none of her
business, anyway, what I do!" But it made him acutely uneasy none
the less. He was the possessor of a good income, as he stood
there, this mild little blond; it came to him steadily and
regularly, with no effort at all on his part, but, with his aunt's
million--it must be at least that--he felt that he would have been
much happier. There it was, safe in the family, and she was
seventy-six, and without a direct heir. It would be too bad to
miss it now!
He thought of it a great deal, was thinking of it this moment, in
fact, and Leila suspected that he was. But Mrs. Buckney, aside
from a half-formed wish that young persons were more demonstrative
in these days, and that the wedding might be soon, had not a care
in the world, and, after a moment's unresponsive silence, returned
blithely to her query about Clarence Breckenridge.
"I haven't seen him," responded one of her daughters presently.
"Funny, too! Last year he didn't miss a day."
"Of course he'll get the cup as usual, this year," Mrs. Buckney
said brightly. "But I don't suppose young people with their heads
full of wedding plans will care much about the golf!" she added
courageously.
To this Miss Leila answered only with a weary shrug.
"Been drinking lately," Mr. Hoyt volunteered.