The drawing-room at the White House was a spacious apartment, with four long windows opening on the lawn. Mrs. Cheyne was sitting in her low chair, reading, with Miss Mewlstone at the farther end of the room, with her knitting-basket beside her; two or three grayhounds were grouped near her. They all rushed forward with furious barks as Mr. Drummond was announced, and then leaped joyously round him. Mrs. Cheyne put down her book, and greeted him with a frosty smile.
She had laid aside her widow's weeds, but still dressed in black, the sombreness of her apparel harmonizing perfectly with her pale, creamy complexion. Her dress was always rich in material, and most carefully adjusted. In her younger days it had been an art with her,--almost a passion,--and it had grown into a matter of custom.
"You are very good to come again so soon, Mr. Drummond," she said, as she gave him her hand. The words were civil, but a slight inflection on the word "soon" made Mr. Drummond feel a little uncomfortable. Did she think he called too often? He wished he had brought Mattie; only last time she had been so satirical, and had quizzed the poor little thing unmercifully; not that Mattie had found out that she was being quizzed.
"I hardly thought I should find you at home, it is so fine an afternoon; but I made the attempt, you see," he continued, a little awkwardly.
"Your parochial conscience was uneasy, I suppose, because I was missing at church?" she returned, somewhat slyly. "You would make a capital overseer, Mr. Drummond,"--with a short laugh. "A headache is a good excuse, is it not? I had a headache, had I not, Miss Mewlstone?"
"Yes, my dear, just so," returned Miss Mewlstone. She always called her patroness "my dear."
"Miss Mewlstone gave me the heads of the sermon, so it was not quite labor lost, as regards one of your flock. I am afraid you think me a black sheep because I stay away so often,--a very black sheep, eh, Mr. Drummond?"
"It is not for me to judge," he said, still more awkwardly. "Headaches are very fair excuses; and if one be not blessed with good health----"
"My health is perfect," she returned, interrupting him ruthlessly. "I have no such convenient plea under which to shelter myself. Miss Mewlstone suffers far more from headaches than I do. Don't you, Miss Mewlstone?"