Free Dorothy Eden by Never Call It Loving Page A

them stories about her childhood, which she obligingly did, describing the kind of clothes she used to wear, poke bonnets, long skirts and petticoats, white stockings. No little girl then would have dreamed of wearing the hideous black stockings of nowadays, and what was more, showing her leg almost to the knee. The little girls giggled merrily. They could not possibly imagine Aunt Ben in her poke bonnets and white stockings either. She could never never have been a child.
    “Could she, Mamma? Mamma, aren’t you listening?”
    Katharine aroused herself and smiled. Dusk was falling and the owls were beginning to hoot. In a moment the maids would come in to shut the windows and light the lamps. It was time to go back to the empty house and her secret worry.
    Did Willie really mean to invite Charles to the house?
    He did. He broached the subject when he came down on Sunday.
    “Will he come do you think? You must add your persuasions to mine. You seem more successful than me in snaring him.”
    “Snaring! What a horrible word.”
    Willie looked surprised at her vehemence.
    “It expresses exactly what I mean. You’re a bit sensitive, aren’t you? What’s worrying you?”
    She walked about agitatedly, twitching back the faded curtains, pointing to the carpet where it was worn.
    “The house is too shabby. Mr. Parnell is the leader of the Irish party. It’s almost like entertaining the Prime Minister. And we haven’t enough servants.”
    “Then engage more.”
    “Willie!” She rounded on him angrily. “With Aunt Ben already paying all the household expenses, how dare you suggest being extravagant like that. Have you no pride?”
    Willie, sensitive about his pride, was instantly aggrieved.
    “There’s no call to say a thing like that when can’t you see I’m trying to do the thing to advance my career. You can’t accuse me of liking Parnell. He isn’t my type at all. But I’ve wit enough to see the way things are going. He’s going to become a major power in the Government and I’ve no doubt his friends will come in for some notice. Besides, I’m getting some influence of my own that he’ll hardly have the bad sense to ignore. And he isn’t coming down here to look at the state of the furnishings. He’s been slaving himself to death in Ireland, rushing from one end of the country to the other. He needs a rest. We’ll have him down next weekend when he arrives back in London.”
    “Will he come?” was all Katharine could ask weakly.
    Willie fixed his cool blue gaze on her.
    “Didn’t I suggest that you add your persuasions?”
    “If they’re worth anything.”
    “Oh, they are, I assure you. It’s getting around that he admires you.”
    “Is—it?” Her hand, halfway to her throat, stopped, by sheer effort of will.
    “Thinks you’re a fine-looking woman. Well, that’s what he told Tim Healy.” Willie, his point gained, had picked up the newspaper. The dangerous moment had passed. It hadn’t really been dangerous at all. For he was quite pleased that that cool and fastidious politician, Charles Stewart Parnell, should admire his wife. He liked to have his possessions admired.
    Mr. Parnell was due to arrive on Saturday evening. The house was in a flurry because Willie was supervising everything. The cook had already been in tears, and Miss Glennister had the little girls dressed in their white muslin party frocks quite an hour earlier than necessary. Katharine had objected to the children being dressed up so obviously, but Willie was proud of his pretty daughters and wanted to show them off. It was a pity Gerard was not home from school so that he could show off his son, too.
    Katharine sat in her bedroom hesitating a long time over her own toilette. Willie would be pleased if she took the greatest pains with it.
    She wanted to look beautiful for Charles, but only for him. Why must he be put in the intolerable position of watching the woman he loved playing the part of the well-groomed and