She felt better after she
had cried a little, and she said, with courage:
"Now we mustn't keep you away from her. If you want me to, I'll go
along with you and call on her and extend a formal invitation."
Jim could not permit his revered mother to make so complete a
submission as that. He shook his head:
"That won't be necessary. I'll go get Kedzie."
"Kedzie? I thought her name was Anita."
"That was her stage name--her film name."
"Oh! And her name wasn't Adair, either, perhaps?"
"No, it was--er--Thropp!"
"Oh!" She wanted to say "What a pretty name!" to make it easier for
him, but she could not arrange the words on her tongue. She asked,
instead, "Is she American?"
"American? I should say so! Born in Missouri."
Another "Oh!" from the mother.
Jim swallowed a bit more of quinine and made his escape, saying:
"You're as fine as they make 'em, mother. I won't be gone long."
The father was so disgusted with the whole affair that he could only
save himself from breaking the furniture by a sardonic taunt:
"Tell our daughter-in-law that if she wants to bring along her camera
she can have the ballroom for a studio. We never use it, anyway."
"Shame on you!" his wife cried. "Don't mind him, Jimsy."
"Jimsy" reminded Jim of Mrs. Thropp and his promise to ask his mother
to call on her. But he had confessed all that he could endure. He
was glad to get away without letting slip the fact that "Thropp" had
changed to "Dyckman" _via_ "Gilfoyle.
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