Mrs. George experienced that subtle prescience whereby it is given
us to know that we have put our foot in it. She felt herself
turning an uncomfortable brick-red. What Penhallow skeleton had she
unwittingly jangled? Why, oh, why, was it such an evident breach
of the proprieties to praise Lucinda?
Mrs. George was devoutly thankful that a summons to the tea-table
rescued her from her mire of embarrassment. The meal was spoiled
for her, however; the mortifying recollection of her mysterious
blunder conspired with her curiosity to banish appetite.
As soon as possible after tea she decoyed Mrs. Frederick out into
the garden and in the dahlia walk solemnly demanded the reason
of it all.
Mrs. Frederick indulged in a laugh which put the mettle of her festal
brown silk seams to the test.
"My dear Cecilia, it was SO amusing," she said, a little patronizingly.
"But WHY!" cried Mrs. George, resenting the patronage and the mystery.
"What was so dreadful in what I said? Or so funny? And WHO is this
Romney Penhallow who mustn't be spoken to?"
"Oh, Romney is one of the Charlottetown Penhallows,"
explained Mrs. Frederick. "He is a lawyer there. He is a
first cousin of Lucinda's and a second of George's--or is he?
Oh, bother! You must go to Uncle John if you want the genealogy.
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