But the house seemed great and empty when she entered, and she was glad to hear the friendly telephone bell ringing.  It was the wife of her pastor, asking her to come to them for a quiet dinner.

This was the one home in the great city where she felt like going in her loneliness.  There would be no form nor ceremony.  Just a friend with them.  It was good.  The doctor would give her some helpful words.  She was glad they had asked her.

CHAPTER XVII

A FINAL FLIGHT AND PURSUIT

“George,” said Mrs. Vincent Benedict, “I want you to do something for me.”

“Certainly, mother, anything I can.”

“Well, it’s only to go to dinner with me to-night.  Our pastor’s wife has telephoned me that she wants us very much.  She especially emphasized you.  She said she absolutely needed you.  It was a case of charity, and she would be so grateful to you if you would come.  She has a young friend with her who is very sad, and she wants to cheer her up.  Now don’t frown.  I won’t bother you again this week.  I know you hate dinners and girls.  But really, George, this is an unusual case.  The girl is just home from Europe, and buried her grandmother yesterday.  She hasn’t a soul in the world belonging to her that can be with her, and the pastor’s wife has asked her over to dinner quietly.  Of course she isn’t going out.  She must be in mourning.  And you know you’re fond of the doctor.”

“Yes, I’m fond of the doctor,” said George, frowning discouragedly; “but I’d rather take him alone, and not with a girl flung at me everlastingly.  I’m tired of it.  I didn’t think it of Christian people, though; I thought she was above such things.”

“Now, George,” said his mother severely, “that’s a real insult to the girl, and to our friend too.  She hasn’t an idea of doing any such thing.  It seems this girl is quite unusual, very religious, and our friend thought you would be just the one to cheer her.  She apologized several times for presuming to ask you to help her.  You really will have to go.”

“Well, who is this paragon, anyway?  Any one I know?  I s’pose I’ve got to go.”

“Why, she’s a Miss Bailey,” said the mother, relieved.  “Mrs. Wilton Merrill Bailey’s granddaughter.  Did you ever happen to meet her?  I never did.”

“Never heard of her,” growled George.  “Wish I hadn’t now.”

“George!”

“Well, mother, go on.  I’ll be good.  What does she do?  Dance, and play bridge, and sing?”

“I haven’t heard anything that she does,” said his mother, laughing.

“Well, of course she’s a paragon; they all are, mother.  I’ll be ready in half an hour.  Let’s go and get it done.  We can come home early, can’t we?”

Mrs. Benedict sighed.  If only George would settle down on some suitable girl of good family!  But he was so queer and restless.  She was afraid for him.  Ever since she had taken him away to Europe, when she was so ill, she had been afraid for him.  He seemed so moody and absent-minded then and afterwards.  Now this Miss Bailey was said to be as beautiful as she was good.  If only George would take a notion to her!