“I remember you at the games too, Mrs. Bruce,” replied the young fellow, rising, “and for the same reason. You were so funny! We’re a couple of family parties, it seems. My mother, and my uncle, Mr. Derwent, are here, and at the first stop we’ll all become acquainted.”
So saying, Robert dropped back into his seat, and turning with scarce a pause to his mother, said explanatorily, “Brute’s stepmother. An up-and-coming dame. You will have to meet her.”
Mrs. Nixon frowned at him significantly and nodded her head toward Betsy’s immovable back.
“All right,” said Robert airily, and glanced at the woman who shared his place. The walnut profile impressed itself upon him for the first time, and in connection with the Bruces he now remembered the woman to whom Irving had been so attentive on various college occasions. “I’ll be jiggered,” thought the youth, “if it isn’t Brute’s nurse! Well, we are being chaperoned through the park, good and plenty.”
Then he amazed his mother by addressing his companion.
“Why, how d’ ye do? Why didn’t you speak to me?”
Betsy gave her odd one-sided smile as she looked back at his cheerfully grinning countenance.
“It’s all so long ago now, Mr. Nixon, I didn’t suppose you’d remember me. I didn’t know you at first.”
“I’m not at all surprised. I’ve grown old and decrepit in the last two years; but to show you my mind isn’t failing yet, I can tell you where I last saw you. It was in a gondola in Venice.”
Betsy smiled and nodded.