"Why, she must have been there! She told me she should surely go. How odd—" but her words died away, and the group regarded each other with looks of awe, till one daring young woman broke the spell with, "Do you think—can it be possible—that she's really engaged?"
"To Mr. Johnson?" broke out the whole number. "Oh! I hope not! It would be shocking—dreadful—too bad!"
"We shouldn't see a thing of her; she would be so tied down," murmured Dorothy Chandler, almost in tears.
"Everyone who marries is tied down, for that matter," cheerfully remarked a blooming young matron, who had been the rounds of the teas. "I assure you," she went on, nibbling a chocolate peppermint with relish, "I am doing an awful thing myself in being here at this hour; aren't you, Anna?"—addressing a mate in like condition, who blushed, conscience-stricken as she said, "Perhaps Caroline is in love with Mr. Johnson."
"I don't see how any one can fall in love with a widower," said Mildred.
"That depends on the widower," said the pretty Mrs. Blanchard. "I do think Mr. Johnson is rather too far gone."
"Oh, yes," said Mildred; "he looks so—so—I don't know how to express it."
"What you would call dowdy if he were a woman," said her more experienced friend. "He looks as if he wanted a wife; but I don't see why someone else would not do as well as Caroline—some respectable maiden lady who could sew on his buttons and make his children stand round. I don't think Caroline would be of the least use to him."
"It would be almost impossible to keep her up," said Grace.
"Yes," said Mrs. Blanchard; "I'm very fond of Caroline, but I'm afraid I could never get Bertie up to the point of intimacy with Malcolm Johnson; he thinks him underbred—says his hats show it."