The room was most interesting,
furnished in unimpeachable taste. A few good pictures were on the walls,
and Mrs. Cresswell was examining one when she heard the swish of silken
skirts. A lady with gold brown face and straight hair stood before her
with pleasant smile. Where had Mrs. Cresswell seen her before? She tried
to remember, but could not.
"You wished to see--Caroline Wynn?"
"Yes."
"What can I do for you?"
Mrs. Cresswell groped for her proper cue, but the brown lady merely
offered a chair and sat down silently. Mrs. Cresswell's perplexity
increased. She had been planning to descend graciously but
authoritatively upon some shrinking girl, but this woman not only seemed
to assume equality but actually looked it. From a rapid survey, Mrs.
Cresswell saw a black silk stocking, a bit of lace, a tailor-made gown,
and a head with two full black eyes that waited in calmly polite
expectancy.
Something had to be said.
"I--er--came; that is, I believe you sent a group to the art exhibit?"
"Yes."
"It was good--very good."
Miss Wynn said nothing, but sat calmly looking at her visitor. Mrs.
Cresswell felt irritated.
"Of course," she managed to continue, "we are very sorry that we cannot
receive it."
"Indeed? I understood it had taken the first prize."
Mrs. Cresswell was aghast. Who had rushed the news to this woman? She
realized that there were depths to this matter that she did not
understand and her irritation increased.
Pages:
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370