An Invitation

Lena hesitated. She realized that this call was a crucial affair to her,
though his long delay in coming proved it to be a casual matter to Mr.
Percival. She must make no mistake. In her instant's hesitation, while
her soft eyes were looking inquiringly into his face, she had an
inspiration.

"I should love it, Mr. Percival," she said with that little air of
reserve that set her apart. "But don't you see, I--I--can't go with
you--until--until you know my mother and unless she approves."

"Of course," said Dick, quite unconscious of Lena's play-acting.

Lena turned and twisted a bit of worn blue plush trimming on the shelf
over the gas-log before she showed him a blushing face.

"The only thing I can do is to ask you to come up stairs and meet
mother. She can hardly move about enough to come down."

She led the way with anxiety in her heart as to how her mother would
behave. Would she show irritable astonishment if Lena treated her with
gentle deference, and asked her permission to be out in the evening with
a strange young man? But Mrs. Quincy knew a thing or two as well as her
daughter, and Dick saw only that the room was very ugly, that Lena moved
about with lips compressed and voice gentle and full of tender
consideration, to make her mother as comfortable as possible before she
went away.

"And I shan't keep you up late, mother, dear," Lena said with a final
kiss that made Mrs. Quincy wink to keep back the statement that she saw
herself waiting for the return of her daughter.