A Final Flight and Pursuit

"George," said Mrs. Vincent Benedict, "I want you to do something for me."

"Certainly, mother, anything I can."

"Well, it's only to go to dinner with me to-night. Our pastor's wife has
telephoned me that she wants us very much. She especially emphasized you.
She said she absolutely needed you. It was a case of charity, and she
would be so grateful to you if you would come. She has a young friend with
her who is very sad, and she wants to cheer her up. Now don't frown. I
won't bother you again this week. I know you hate dinners and girls. But
really, George, this is an unusual case. The girl is just home from
Europe, and buried her grandmother yesterday. She hasn't a soul in the
world belonging to her that can be with her, and the pastor's wife has
asked her over to dinner quietly. Of course she isn't going out. She must
be in mourning. And you know you're fond of the doctor."

"Yes, I'm fond of the doctor," said George, frowning discouragedly; "but
I'd rather take him alone, and not with a girl flung at me everlastingly.
I'm tired of it. I didn't think it of Christian people, though; I thought
she was above such things."

"Now, George," said his mother severely, "that's a real insult to the
girl, and to our friend too. She hasn't an idea of doing any such thing.
It seems this girl is quite unusual, very religious, and our friend
thought you would be just the one to cheer her. She apologized several
times for presuming to ask you to help her. You really will have to go."