Every one laughed again except Frei. Mrs. Mearely, forgetful of her acquired deportment, put her hands on her hips and swayed with the ripples of her joy. Dr. Wells doubled up and choked, till the Judge was obliged to pat him on the back with a hand weak from his own mirth. The farewells were lost in the echoes of laughter.
“You think you really saw something?” Frei asked, as he offered his arm to Mrs. Witherby, who was trembling from alarm and insult.
“I shall notify the authorities. I am quite positive I saw him—absolutely positive!”
“Don’t let mamma frighten you, Dr. Frei. Wait till you know her as well as I do!” Corinne suppressed her giggles long enough to kiss her hostess good-night. She ran out after her mother.
“Coming, Howard?” asked Wells over his shoulder.
“I’ll catch up with you at the foot of the hill. I think I’ll satisfy myself that my cousin’s bolts and bars are all in working order.”
“Te-he—our poor, dear Mrs. Witherby—such imagination!” The doctor waved his hand, smiling, and went out.
“Good-night, Mrs. Mearely.”
Rosamond had gone to the verandah rail to wave her guests down the hill. She was slightly startled to come upon Miss Crewe standing in the shadow, and evidently watching Howard.
“Good-night,” she said. “I hear your aunt calling you.” She was aware of a sombre flash from Mabel’s dark eyes; then the slender figure moved off with leisurely pace and the bearing of a princess—at least, so Rosamond, in her own mind, described Miss Crewe’s walk. One by one, the carts and buggies started round the gravel drive to the hill-road. As they passed just under the jut where the house stood, Mrs. Mearely leaned over the rail and called her good-nights.