The Priceless Pearl

								

but now he saw that she would need not only all his knowledge of the
situation but the full conviction that he was backing her, whatever she
did. He became convinced of this even before he saw Miss Exeter. Having
seen her, he had no further hesitation. He thought her as sensible a
person as he had ever met. She sat there in the hard north light of
his office, noting down now and then a few words in a little black
notebook. She was not only sensible--she was to be depended on.
"The truth is," he said, "that Antonia, not to put too fine a point on
it, is not personally clean."
Miss Exeter smiled, for to her mind the tone of agony in his voice was
exaggerated.
"But at a certain age no children are," she said.
"But most children are forced to be, and my sister lets this child run
wild, so that people talk about it. I suppose I oughtn't to mind so
much," he said, looking at her rather wistfully; "but you can't imagine
how I hate to think that people discuss Antonia's being dirty. And all
my sister says is that she's so glad the child isn't vain. Oh, Miss
Exeter, if you could get Antonia dressed like a nice, well brought up
little girl I think I'd do anything in the world for you."
She promised that too. In fact, by the time she finally left the
office and was on her way uptown, late for an engagement she had with
Horace Bayne, she was alarmed to remember how many things she had
promised--not only to stay until he came back but to write to him every
day, a long report of just what had happened in the family and what her
impressions of it were.
"Not letters," he had said, "because I shan't answer them; but
reports--reports on my family, as I am going to make a report on this
mine."
They were to be typewritten. He had no intention of struggling with any
woman's handwriting, though Augusta murmured that hers was considered
very legible.
It was not her custom to take a definite step like this without
consulting Horace--not so much because Horace insisted on it as because
she thought highly of his opinion. She was astonished now, as in the
Subway she thought over the interview, to find how little she had been
thinking of Horace. They had been engaged for something over two
years, one of those comfortable engagements, which until recently had
had no prospects of marriage.
The Rutland College Club is almost deserted in summer. As she ran
upstairs to the library, where she was to meet Horace, she glanced at
her watch and saw to her regret that he must have been waiting almost
an hour, for he was punctual, and usually arrived a little ahead of
the hour. She was sorry--such a busy man; but he would understand--she
would explain----
He rose from a deep chair as she entered--a serious young man whom
everyone trusted at first sight. She saw he looked a little more
serious than usual, and her sense of guilt made her attribute this
seriousness to her own fault. She began to explain quickly and with