Friday afternoon none of the girls had classes at Redmond. Stella took the
opportunity to write a paper for the Philomathic Society, and was sitting at the
table in the corner of the living-room with an untidy litter of notes and
manuscript on the floor around her. Stella always vowed she never could write
anything unless she threw each sheet down as she completed it. Anne, in her
flannel blouse and serge skirt, with her hair rather blown from her windy walk
home, was sitting squarely in the middle of the floor, teasing the Sarah-cat with a
wishbone. Joseph and Rusty were both curled up in her lap. A warm plummy
odor filled the whole house, for Priscilla was cooking in the kitchen. Presently
she came in, enshrouded in a huge work-apron, with a smudge of flour on her
nose, to show Aunt Jamesina the chocolate cake she had just iced.
At this auspicious moment the knocker sounded. Nobody paid any attention to
it save Phil, who sprang up and opened it, expecting a boy with the hat she had
bought that morning. On the doorstep stood Mrs. Gardner and her daughters.
Anne scrambled to her feet somehow, emptying two indignant cats out of her
lap as she did so, and mechanically shifting her wishbone from her right hand to
her left. Priscilla, who would have had to cross the room to reach the kitchen
door, lost her head, wildly plunged the chocolate cake under a cushion on the
inglenook sofa, and dashed upstairs. Stella began feverishly gathering up her
manuscript. Only Aunt Jamesina and Phil remained normal. Thanks to them,
everybody was soon sitting at ease, even Anne. Priscilla came down, apronless
and smudgeless, Stella reduced her corner to decency, and Phil saved the
situation by a stream of ready small talk.
Mrs. Gardner was tall and thin and handsome, exquisitely gowned, cordial
with a cordiality that seemed a trifle forced. Aline Gardner was a younger
edition of her mother, lacking the cordiality. She endeavored to be nice, but
succeeded only in being haughty and patronizing. Dorothy Gardner was slim and
jolly and rather tomboyish. Anne knew she was Roy’s favorite sister and
warmed to her. She would have looked very much like Roy if she had had
dreamy dark eyes instead of roguish hazel ones. Thanks to her and Phil, the call
really went off very well, except for a slight sense of strain in the atmosphere
and two rather untoward incidents. Rusty and Joseph, left to themselves, began a
game of chase, and sprang madly into Mrs. Gardner’s silken lap and out of it in
their wild career. Mrs. Gardner lifted her lorgnette and gazed after their flying
forms as if she had never seen cats before, and Anne, choking back slightly
nervous laughter, apologized as best she could.
“You are fond of cats?” said Mrs. Gardner, with a slight intonation of tolerant
wonder.