Chapter 26

“So I am to understand that the young lady defies my authority and refuses point-blank to come home.”

“That’s about what it comes to, I reckon.”

It was evening of that eventful Sunday when Eleanor and Quin had returned from Chicago. He and Madam Bartlett sat facing each other in the sepulchral library, where the green reading-light cast its sickly light on Lincoln and his Cabinet, on Andrew Jackson dying in the bosom of his family, on Madam savagely gripping the lions’ heads on the arms of her mahogany chair.

That her quarrel with Eleanor and the girl’s subsequent flight had made the old lady suffer was evinced by the pinched look of her nostrils and the heavy, sagging lines about her mouth; but in her grim old eyes there was no sign of compromise.

“Very well!” she said. “Let her stay at her precious Martels’. She will stand just about one week of their shiftlessness. I shan’t send her a stitch of clothes or a cent of money. Maybe I can starve some sense into her.”

Quin traced the pattern in the table-cover with a massive brass paper-knife. It was a delicate business, this he had committed himself to, and everything depended upon his keeping Madam’s confidence.

“You never did try letting her have her head, did you?” He put the question as a disinterested observer.

“No. I don’t intend to until she gets this fool stage business out of her mind.”

“Well, of course you can hold that up for six months, but you can’t stop it in the end.”

“Yes, I can, too. I’d like to know if I didn’t keep Isobel from being a missionary, and Enid from marrying Francis Chester when he didn’t make enough money to pay her carfare.”

“That’s so,” agreed Quin cheerfully. “And then, there was Mr. Ranny.” He waited for the remark to sink in; then he went on lightly: “But say! They all belong to another generation. Things are run on different lines these days.”

“More’s the pity! Every little fool of a kite thinks all it has to do is to break its string to be free.”

“Miss Nell don’t want to break the string; she just wants it lengthened.”

Madam turned upon him fiercely.

“See here, young man. You think I don’t know what you are up to; but, remember, I wasn’t born yesterday. If Eleanor has sent you up here to talk this New York stuff——”

“She hasn’t; I came of my own accord.”

“Well, you needn’t think just because I’ve shown you a few favors that you can meddle in family affairs. It’s not the first time you’ve attended to other people’s business.”

Her fingers were working nervously and her eyes beginning to twitch. She made Quin think of Minerva when Mr. Bangs came into the office.

“I bet there’s one time you are glad I meddled,” he said with easy good humor. “You might have been walking on a peg-stick, Queen Vic, if I hadn’t butted in. Do you have to use your crutches now?”

“Crutches! I should say not. I don’t even use a cane. See here!”

She rose and, steadying herself, walked slowly and painfully to the door and back.

“Bully for you!” said Quin, helping her back into the chair. “Now what were we talking about?”

“You were trying to hold a brief for Eleanor.”

“So I was. You see, I had an idea that if you’d let me put the case up to you fair and square, maybe you’d see it in a different light.”