And now it all seemed so _tame_. First no costume, then an ordinary wire
to ask mother to go up for a day's shopping. They might have come from
Surrey instead of America. And two whole days before they wired at all.
Perhaps Mrs. Graham was thinking something of the kind too, for she
stood biting her lip, with the colour going and coming in pretty blushes
on her cheek, as if she could not make up her mind.
She was just "mother" to Dorothy, but to other people Mrs. Graham was
both pretty and sweet.
"I _must_ go," she said at length, "and there is scarcely time to get
ready."
"Oh, _mother_!" cried Dorothy, "can't I come too?"
Mrs. Graham still seemed to be considering something else, and she
merely answered, "No, dear," and went quickly upstairs.
Dorothy sank down on the sofa in a terribly injured mood. Nobody seemed
to be thinking of _her_ at all. And before she had got over the first
brunt of this discovery her mother was back again ready to go, with her
purse-bag and gloves in her hand.
[Sidenote: Left in Charge]
"Dorothy," she said, arranging her hat before the mirror of the
overmantel, "you may choose any pudding you like, tell cook. Here are
the keys"--she paused to throw a small bunch in Dorothy's lap. "Get out
anything they want. And Dick won't be in till half-past one, tell her.
And Dollie"--there was again that queer little catch in her voice--"it
is possible Miss Addiscombe may call this afternoon.
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