“Then I beg your pardon, but I still believe whoever telephoned that farrago of nonsense, had no intent but pleasantry of some sort.”
Eleanor Black came bustling in. She looked strikingly beautiful in her black gown. Not what is technically known as “mourning,” but softly draped folds of dull, lusterless silk, that threw into higher relief her clear olive complexion and shining black eyes.
“A family conclave?” she said, lightly. “May I join? But first may I not have Mr. Landon duly presented to me?”
“Oh, surely, you’ve never really met, have you?” said Avice. “Mrs. Black, this is my cousin, or the same as cousin, for he’s Uncle Rowly’s nephew. Kane, my very good friend, Mrs. Black.”
The two bowed, rather formally, and Mrs. Black murmured some conventional phrases, to which Landon responded courteously.
Judge Hoyt took the occasion to draw Avice outside the hall.
“Let them get acquainted,” he said, “and suppose you pay some slight attention to me. You’ve had eyes and ears for no one but that cousin ever since you first saw him this morning. And now you’re asking him to live here!”
“But you expressed approval of that!” and Avice looked surprised at his tone.
“How could I do otherwise at the time? But I don’t approve of it, I can tell you, unless, Avice, dearest, unless you will let us announce our engagement at once. I mean after your uncle is buried, of course.”
“Announce our engagement! You must be crazy. I’ve never said I’d marry you.”