“You know the Convention of the Arts and Crafts—­which begins on the twentieth.”

“I’ve heard of it—­somewhere.”

“Well, it just came to me, Teddy, what a perfectly heavenly thing it would be to invite that little Mrs. Dawson, who writes reviews for one of the papers here—­you remember I told you about her—­she is awfully clever and artistic and good-looking, and lives away off from every place, and her husband is not her equal at all—­perfectly illiterate, I heard—­uncultured anyway.  What a perfect joy it would be to her to have her come, and meet with people who are her equals.  She’s an Ottawa girl originally, I believe, and she does write the most perfectly sweet and darling things—­you remember I’ve read them for you.  Of course, she is probably very shabby and out of date in her clothes by this time.  But it doesn’t really matter what one wears, if one has heaps of brains.  It is only dull women, really, who have to be so terribly careful about what they wear, and spend so much money that way!”

“Dull women!” Theodore murmured.  “Oh! is that why?  I never really knew.”

She laughed at his look of enlightened surprise.  When Mrs. Banks laughed there were three dimples plainly showing, which did not entirely discourage her merriment.

“And you know, Teddy, there is such a mystery about her marriage!  She will really be quite an acquisition, and we’ll have her on the programme.”

“What mystery?” Mr. Banks asked.

“Oh, well, not mystery, maybe, but we all suppose she’s not happy.  How could she be with so few of the real pleasures of life, and still she stays with it, and actually goes places with her husband, and seems to be keeping it up, and you know, Ted, she has either three or four children!”

“Is it as bad as that?” he asked, solemnly.

“Oh, Ted! you know well enough what I mean—­don’t be such an owl!  Just think of how tied down and horrible it must be for her out there in that desolate Alberta, with no neighbors at all for miles, and then only impossible people.  I should think it would drive her mad.  I must try to get her on the programme, too.  She will at least be interesting, on account of her personality.  Most of our speakers are horribly prosy, at least to me, but of course I never listen; I just look to see what they’ve on and then go straight back to my own thinking.  I just thought I’d ask your advice, Teddy dear, before I asked the Committee, and so now I’ll go to see Mrs. Trenton, the President.  So glad you approve, dear!  And really there will be a touch of romance in it, Ted, for Bruce Edwards knew her when she lived in Ottawa—­it was he who told me so much about her.  He simply raved about her to me—­it seems he was quite mad about her once, and probably it was a lover’s quarrel or something that drove her away to the West to forget,—­and now think of her meeting Bruce again.  Isn’t that a thriller?”

“If I thought Bruce Edwards had brains enough to care for any woman I’d say it was not right to bring her here,” said Mr. Banks; “but he hasn’t.”