Mrs. Allen, in a light wrapper, lay on a sofa, while Mary was kneeling by her side, industriously polishing the nails of her mistress.
“Mrs. Allen,” said Bess abruptly, “may Fred and I have the coupé this afternoon?”
“Does he want to go out for a drive at last?” asked his mother.
“No, he doesn’t,” replied Bess, “but I want to have him go, and I think that if the carriage were all at the door, I could get him started. May I try?”
“Of course you can have the carriage, Bessie; (a little more on the thumb, Mary) but why do you tease him, if he doesn’t want to go? It won’t be any pleasure to him, and if he is more comfortable at home, why not let him do as he likes?”
Bess dropped into a chair, and wrinkled her brows with exasperation.
“Why, don’t you see, Mrs. Allen,” she said, “the boy can’t spend all his life in that one room. He must go out of it sometime, and the longer he waits the harder it will be for him. He ought to have been out weeks ago, for he needs the fresh air, and he is getting just blue
