“I am very glad,” she said, “to meet Mrs.—Mrs.—ah, pardon me, but what was the name?”
“Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop,” Vernon said.
“Ah, Mrs. Lathrop.”
Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop seemed, to the eye, to swell.
“You have a charming little city here, Mrs. Lathrop. We poor Chicagoans love to get down into the country once in a while, you know.”
Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop reared back a little.
“No doubt,” she stammered. “I have always found it so.”
Miss Greene feigned surprise, and affected a look of perplexity. Vernon withdrew a step, and with his chin in his hand looked on out of eyes that gloated. The other women in the party exchanged glances of horror and wrath. Mrs. Barbourton, for her part, seemed unable to endure it.
“Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop lives in Chicago,” she interjected.
“Oh!” cried Miss Greene. “Is it possible? How very strange that one could live in the city all one’s life and yet not have heard!”