“One of Professor Lee’s old pupils—oh, of years ago—is coming back to Roseborough to-morrow morning. Yes. Oh, very unexpected. A tremendous surprise! And Mrs. Lee is inviting you and Roseborough to breakfast at eleven to-morrow in her garden to help her welcome the prodigal home.”
“Oh! How exciting! But who is he?”
“His name is Falcon—Jack Falcon.”
“Oh! no one I ever knew, evidently. Jack Falcon?”
“Yes, Falcon is the name—one of them; the other, of course, being Jack.”
“Falcon?—Jack? Stop!” (dramatically—as if Mrs. Mearely were running from the instrument at the other end.) “Isn’t that the man who literally decamped from Roseborough years ago?”
[“Waiting?” Maria Potts, the Central, always intoned her official query at brief intervals through Mrs. Witherby’s telephonic monologues and delighted to cut her off, which she always did, as soon as the conversation ceased to interest Miss Potts herself.]
“Yes—er—that is—I understand he did leave Roseborough some years ago,” Rosamond answered.
“Falcon? Yes. I’m sure that is the name. We never encouraged the Lees to talk about him after he went away, though they, no doubt, would have liked to make us believe he was doing well. They were idiotic about him when he was here. (Be quiet, Central!) How extraordinary of Mrs. Lee to be giving a breakfast to that person! While he lived in Roseborough, he ignored Roseborough; and he ran away from it just as soon as ever he could.”
Rosamond saw—or heard, rather—that hers was not to be so easy a task. She summoned all her diplomacy and continued: