Vernon shrank.
“Morley Vernon,” Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop continued, “do you know what I have a notion to do?”
“No, Mrs. Hodge-Lathrop,” he said in a very little voice.
“Well, sir, I’ve a notion to give you a good spanking.”
Vernon shot a glance at her.
“Oh, you needn’t look, sir,” she continued, “you needn’t look! It wouldn’t be the first time, as you well know—and it isn’t so many years ago—and I have your mother’s full permission, too.”
The chain of ladylike sympathy that passed about the table at this declaration was broken only when its ends converged on Vernon. Even then they seemed to pinch him.
“Your poor, dear mother,” Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop went on, “insisted, indeed, on coming down herself, but I knew she could never stand such a trip. I told her,” and here Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop paused for an instant, “I told her that I thought I could manage.”
There was a vast significance in this speech.
The waiter had brought the substantials to the ladies, and Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop began eating determinedly.