Weatherstone swept her trailing crepe from the
automobile to her friend's door, it was opened by a quick, soft-footed
maid with a pleasant face, who showed her into a parlor, not only cool
and flower-lit, but having that fresh smell that tells of new-washed
floors.
Mrs. Porne came flying down to meet her, with such a look of rest and
comfort as roused instant notice.
"Why, Belle! I haven't seen you look so bright in ever so long. It
must be the new maid!"
"That's it--she's 'Bell' too--'Miss Bell' if you please!"
The visitor looked puzzled. "Is she a--a friend?" she ventured, not
sure of her ground.
"I should say she was! A friend in need! Sit here by the window,
Viva--and I'll tell you all about it--as far as it goes."
She gaily recounted her climax of confusion and weariness, and the
sudden appearance of this ministering angel. "She arrived at about
quarter of ten. I engaged her inside of five minutes. She was into a
gingham gown and at work by ten o'clock!"
"What promptness! And I suppose there was plenty to do!"
Mrs. Porne laughed unblushingly. "There was enough for ten women it
seemed to me! Let's see--it's about five now--seven hours. We have
nine rooms, besides the halls and stairs, and my shop. She hasn't
touched that yet. But the house is clean--_clean_! Smell it!"
She took her guest out into the hall, through the library and
dining-room, upstairs where the pleasant bedrooms stretched open and
orderly.
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