Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/29

Rh The hotel guests seated near Laurel and her mother observed their traveling clothes. One of them later, in the hotel lobby, approached Laurel as she sat, half-hidden in a high-backed armchair, waiting for her mother. Her neat black-enameled suit case stood beside her, and her silver-handled umbrella lay across her knees.

"Are you and your mammar leaving us to-day?" asked the lady.

"I am," Laurel replied.

"But not your mammar?"

Laurel wished she wouldn't say "mammar."

"No. Mother isn't."

"Oh, so that's it! You're going alone! And where are you going?"

"To New York."

"To New York! How nice! To visit, I suppose?"

Laurel nodded.

"Let's see. I believe I've heard your pappar lives in New York," remarked the lady. Any reference to her father always put Laurel on the defensive. "Doesn't your pappar live there?" the lady persisted.

"I call him father," said Laurel, flushing.

"You funny child! Well, doesn't your father live in New York?"

"My father has business in New York which takes him there frequently," Laurel replied as she had heard her mother reply dozens of times before.

"Oh, I see! And you're going to New York to visit your father. Is that it?" purred the lady.

There were sharp claws behind that purr, Laurel