Van Dam, examining her
surroundings through her quizzing glasses. "I've heard so much about your
paintings, Miss Reid. And what an astonishing girl, this Miss Bryant!
Where can she be? Helen, you sly girl, I hear news about you."
"Oh, very likely Miss Bryant is out of town," Reid answered for her with a
quiet smile. "She'll show up after the paper goes to press, if not
sooner."
"On her wedding day! The girl's a genius! And when may that be? When will
the--ah--when will the paper go to press?"
"They take copy up to two o'clock for the second edition. But she maybe
here at any moment."
The General stared at him with amazement.
"Oh, you don't know Cadge," sighed Kitty, "if you think she'd be jarred by
her own wedding. But we must do something. Everybody's here and waiting.
Sing, Helen, won't you? Oh, do sing."
Helen had not joined in the rapid conversation. Now she smiled assent with
stately compliance. Undulating across the studio, she returned with a
mandolin--not the one I remembered, but a pretty bit of workmanship in
inlaid wood. Bending above this, she relieved the wait by merry, lilting
tunes like the music of a bobolink, while Kitty fidgetted in and out, the
puckers in her forehead every minute growing deeper.
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