“No,” said Helen. “I am not afraid of other girls; but what's to be done? It's a sort of house-warming, I suppose?”
“Yes,” was the reply, “I suppose so, for I only came down last week myself. I have asked about twenty people for a week or two; they all know each other, more or less, so there won't be much formality. We shall amuse ourselves with coaching and golf, and anything else we please; and of course there will be plenty of music in the evening.”
Helen smiled at the significant tone of her aunt's voice. “Are the people there now?” she asked.
“Those who live anywhere in the neighborhood are; most of the men will be down on the afternoon train, in time for dinner.”
“And tell me who are the men, Auntie?”
“I'm afraid I won't have time,” said Mrs. Roberts, glancing out of the carriage. “We are too near home. But I will tell you about one of them, if you like.”
“The king-bee?” laughed Helen. “Is there a king-bee?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Roberts; “there is. At any rate, my husband and I think he is, and we are anxious to see what you think. His name is Gerald Harrison, and he comes from Cincinnati.”
“Oh, dear,” said Helen, “I hate to meet men from the West. He must be a pork-packer, or something horrible.”
“No,” said the other, “he is a railroad president.”