He looked at her in surprise.
“Yes, I know you don’t want to do this, but I do,” she added, “and that’s all I’m going to think of. It’s my turn.”
Mrs. Nixon and Mrs. Bruce followed them with their eyes.
“What a little thing Miss Maynard is,” remarked the latter. “See, she barely reaches Irving’s shoulder. I’ve always said he’d marry some mite of a creature. That’s the way tall men always do, and then giraffes of women have to mate with short ones.”
“I’m sorry Robert wasn’t here,” said Mrs. Nixon coldly. “He would certainly have obliged Miss Maynard with a better grace.”
“Irving is terribly indifferent,” returned Mrs. Bruce complacently. “If I want anything, he’s all alive at once; but when it’s a question of any other woman—” She finished with a significant gesture.
“I have endeavored,” said Mrs. Nixon, with stateliness, “to inculcate in Robert unvarying courtesy to all women.”
Mrs. Bruce began to grow warm under her ruching. “Yes, dear, I know,” she replied, with a well-done sigh. “It’s so much easier when a man hasn’t distinguished himself especially at college. These football heroes—” she shook her head regretfully—“they do get spoiled, I admit, and grow careless. Then they reflect very little credit on their bringing-up. Excuse me a moment, Mrs. Nixon, I must speak to Betsy.” And Mrs. Bruce rose gracefully and departed on her fictitious errand rather than sustain her friend’s possible rejoinder.
“For if,” she reflected, “the woman should say anything really against Irving it would spoil the rest of the trip. The idea! He might have treated Miss Maynard outrageously yesterday and Mrs. Nixon wouldn’t ever have noticed it; but to-night she begrudges them a moonlight excursion.”
Mrs. Nixon leaned back in her chair, breathing a little fast as her son and heir approached her.