“If you don’t I’ll—­just swim about for awhile.  No use in thinking of that, though.”

And suddenly she fell asleep.

CHAPTER XXV

Mrs. Crothers lived in a small brick house on a side street close to Washington Square.  As Ethel looked out from her automobile, how dear and homey it appeared, with such a quiet friendly face.  “Now for the plunge.”  She went up the low steps and rang the bell.  Thank Heaven it was a rainy day, for when the maid came Ethel went right in, and the rain made that seem natural.  At least no door had been shut in her face.  She wanted to get inside this house!

“Is Mrs. Crothers at home?” she asked.  The maid was not sure.  Ethel gave her a card and was shown into a long cosy room with an old-fashioned air, where a small coal fire looked half asleep.  She began to look around her.  The walls were lined with book-shelves, with only a picture here and there.  No wall-paper.  “How funny.”  She frowned and added, “But it’s nice.”  There was but little furniture, and plenty of room to move about.  “What a love of a mirror.”  It was of gilt, and it reached from floor to ceiling between the two front windows.  Gravely she looked at herself in the glass.  “Oh, I’m not very excited.”

The maid reappeared, and said, “Mrs. Crothers asks you to excuse her.  She’s sick with a headache this afternoon.”

“Oh, what a lie!” thought Ethel.  She stood for a moment irresolute, her heart in her mouth.  “I will, though!” she decided, and took out another card.  “Then take her this little note,” she said.  And she wrote:  “I know I am being quite rude—­but if the headache is not too severe will you see me just for a little while!  I would not bother you—­honestly—­but it is something so important—­and it must be settled today.”  It took two of her cards, and even then it was horribly crowded and hard to read.  “Never mind,” she thought.  “That’s as far as I’ll go.  If she can’t read that I’m done for!”

The maid had taken the message upstairs.

“Now I’ve done it, I’ve gone too far.  I’m done for—­oh, I’m done for!  Well, look about you, Ethel, my love—­it’s the last look you’ll ever get at this room!  How dear it is, what taste, what a home.  Books, pictures, a piano of course—­and the very air is full of the things that have been said here after dinner, over coffee and cigarettes, by all the people you want to know.  Not rich nor ‘smart’ like Newport—­just people with minds and hearts alive to the big things that really count, the beautiful things! . . .  Good-bye, my dears—­you’re not very kind.”

“She’ll be down in a moment,” said the maid.

“Thank you!” Ethel had wheeled with a start; and again left alone, she stood without moving.  “Well, here you are—­you’ve got your chance!  And how do you feel?  Plain panicky!  Never mind, that’s just what will catch her attention!  Be panicky!  Oh, I am—­I am!” And her courage oozed so rapidly that when her hostess came into the room, and with a smile that was rather strained, said “I am so glad to see you—­” the girl who confronted her only stared, and suddenly shivered a little.  Then she forced a smile and said, “How silly of me to shiver like that.”