"These are almost identical."
"You are a close observer." Helen completed her memorandum and
laid it aside. "What became of father?"
"He went to a stag supper at the Willard," chimed in Barbara,
stopping her aimless walk about the library. "He said we were not
to wait up for him."
Helen pushed back her chair and rose with some abruptness.
"I am more tired than I realized," she remarked and involuntarily
stretched her weary muscles. "Come, Margaret," laying a persuasive
hand on the widow's shoulder. "Be a trump and rub my forehead with
cologne as you used to do abroad when I had a headache. It always
put me to sleep then; and, oh, how I long for sleep now!"
There was infinite pathos in her voice and Mrs. Brewster sprang up
and threw her arm about her in ready sympathy.
"You poor darling!" she exclaimed. "Let me put you to bed; Mammy
taught me the art of soothing frayed nerves. Come with us, Babs,"
holding out her left hand to Barbara. But the latter, with a
dexterous twist, slipped away from her touch.
"I must stay and straighten the library," she announced.
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