Mother | Page 9

marked the thoroughbred.

"Do you know that you managed that situation very cleverly just now?"
said the lady, with a keen glance that made Margaret color. "One has
such a dread of the crowd, just public sentiment, you know. Some
odious bystander calls the police, they crowd against your driver,
perhaps a brick gets thrown. We had an experience in England once--"
She paused, then interrupted herself. "But I don't know your name?"
she said brightly.
Margaret supplied it, was led to talk a little of her own people.
"Seven of you, eh? Seven's too many," said the visitor, with the
assurance that Margaret was to learn characterized her. "I've two
myself, two girls," she went on. "I wanted a boy, but they're nice girls.
And you've six brothers and sisters? Are they all as handsome as you
and this Teddy of yours? And why do you like teaching?"
"Why do I like it?" Margaret said, enjoying these confidences and the
unusual experience of sitting idle in mid-afternoon. "I don't, I hate it."
"I see. But then why don't you come down to New York, and do
something else?" the other woman asked.
"I'm needed at home, and I don't know any one there," Margaret said
simply.
"I see," the lady said again thoughtfully. There was a pause. Then the
same speaker said reminiscently, "I taught school once for three months
when I was a girl, to show my father I could support myself."
"I've taught for four years," Margaret said.
"Well, if you ever want to try something else,--there are such lots of
fascinating things a girl can do now!--be sure you come and see me
about it," the stranger said. "I am Mrs. Carr-Boldt, of New York."
Margaret's amazed eyes flashed to Mrs. Carr-Boldt's face; her cheeks
crimsoned.

"Mrs. Carr-Boldt!" she echoed blankly.
"Why not?" smiled the lady, not at all displeased.
"Why," stammered Margaret, laughing and rosy, "why, nothing--only I
never dreamed who you were!" she finished, a little confused.
And indeed it never afterward seemed to her anything short of a
miracle that brought the New York society woman--famed on two
continents and from ocean to ocean for her jewels, her entertainments,
her gowns, her establishments--into a Weston schoolroom, and into
Margaret Paget's life.
"I was on my way to New York now," said Mrs. Carr-Boldt.
"I don't see why you should be delayed," Margaret said, glad to be able
to speak normally, with such a fast-beating and pleasantly excited heart.
"I'm sure Dorothy's all right."
"Oh, I'd rather wait. I like my company," said the other. And Margaret
decided in that instant that there never was a more deservedly admired
and copied and quoted woman.
Presently their chat was interrupted by the tramp of the departing
school children; the other teachers peeped in, were reassured, and went
their ways. Then came the doctor, to pronounce the entirely cheerful
Dorothy unhurt, and to bestow upon her some hoarhound drops. Mrs.
Carr-Boldt settled at once with the doctor, and when Margaret saw the
size of the bill that was pressed into his hand, she realized that she had
done her old friend a good turn.
"Use it up on your poor people," said Mrs. Carr-Boldt, to his
protestations; and when he had gone, and Dorothy's "girl" appeared,
she tipped that worthy and amazed Teuton, and after promising
Dorothy a big doll from a New York shop, sent the child and maid
home in the motor-car.
"I hope this hasn't upset your plans," Margaret said, as they stood

waiting in the doorway. It was nearly five o'clock, the school was
empty and silent.
"No, not exactly. I had hoped to get home for dinner. But I think I'll get
Woolcock to take me back to Dayton; I've some very dear friends there
who'll give me a cup of tea. Then I'll come back this way and get home,
by ten, I should think, for a late supper." Then, as the limousine
appeared, Mrs. Carr-Boldt took both Margaret's hands in hers, and said,
"And now good-bye, my dear girl. I've got your address, and I'm going
to send you something pretty to remember me by. You saved me from I
don't know what annoyance and publicity. And don't forget that when
you come to New York I'm going to help you meet the people you want
to, and give you a start if I can. You're far too clever and good-looking
to waste your life down here. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" Margaret said, her cheeks brilliant, her head awhirl.
She stood unmindful of the chilly evening air, watching the great
motor-car wheel and slip into the gloom. The rain was over; a dying
wind moaned mysteriously through the dusk. Margaret went slowly
upstairs, pinned on her hat, buttoned her long coat snugly about her.