Eve laughed.
Miss Sabrina murmured, “Pleasantry, dear Mr. Singleton;—our foolish pleasantry.”
After the old gentleman had found his chair and seated himself, and had drawn a breath or two, he gave a broad slow smile. “Nanny, are you in the habit of introducing me to your young lady friends as your dear little Rupert?—your little Rupe?”
“Rupe? Never!” answered Mrs. Singleton, indignantly.
“Only our foolish pleasantry,” sighed Miss Sabrina, apologetically.
“It was Cicely,” Eve explained.
“If it was Cicely, it was perfect,” the lame colossus answered, gallantly. “Cicely is heavenly. Upon my word, she is the most engaging young person I have ever seen in my life.”
He then ate some plum-cake, and paid Eve compliments even more handsome than these.
After a while he imparted the news; he had been down to the landing to meet the afternoon steamer, which brought tidings from the outside world. “Melton is dead,” he said. “You know whom I mean? Melton, the great stockbroker; one of the richest men living, I suppose.”
“Oh! where is his soul now?” said Mrs. Singleton. Her emotion was real, her sweet face grew pallid.