"Oh yes," said Thelma, simply. "But I am not your friend yet! When we do know each other better I will come. We shall meet each other many times first,--and then you will see if you like me to be your friend. Is it not so?"
A scarcely concealed smile reflected itself on the faces of all who heard this naïve, but indefinite acceptance of Mrs. Van Clupp's invitation, while Mrs. Van Clupp herself was somewhat mortified, and knew not what to answer. This Norwegian girl was evidently quite ignorant of the usages of polite society, or she would at once have recognized the fact that an "at home" had nothing whatsoever to do with the obligations of friendship--besides, as far as friendship was concerned, had not Mrs. Van Clupp tabooed several of her own blood-relations and former intimate acquaintances? . . . for the very sensible reason that while she had grown richer, they had grown poorer. But now Mrs. Rush-Marvelle sailed up in all her glory, with her good-natured smile and matronly air. She was a privileged person, and she put her arm round Thelma's waist.
"You must come to me, my dear," she said with real kindness--her motherly heart had warmed to the girl's beauty and innocence,--"I knew Philip when he was quite a boy. He will tell you what a dreadfully old woman I am! You must try to like me for his sake."
Thelma smiled radiantly. "I always wish to like Philip's friends," she said frankly. "I do hope I shall please you!"
A pang of remorse smote Mrs. Rush-Marvelle's heart as she remembered how loth she had been to meet Philip's "peasant" wife,--she hesitated,--then, yielding to her warm impulse, drew the girl closer and kissed her fair rose-tinted cheek.
"You please everybody, my child," she said honestly. "Philip is a lucky man! Now I'll say good night, for it is getting late,--I'll write to you to-morrow and fix a day for you to come and lunch with me."
"But you must also come and see Philip," returned Thelma, pressing her hand.
"So I will--so I will!" and Mrs. Rush-Marvelle nodded beamingly, and made her way up to Lady Winsleigh, saying, "Bye-bye, Clara! Thanks for a most charming evening!"
Clara pouted. "Going already, Mimsey?" she queried,--then, in a lower tone, she said, "Well! what do you think of her?"
"A beautiful child--no more!" answered Mrs. Marvelle,--then, studying with some gravity the brilliant brunette face before her, she added in a whisper, "Leave her alone, Clara,--don't make her miserable! You know what I mean! It wouldn't take much to break her heart."