"Did you accept for me, too?" asked Mrs. Presbury.
"Certainly," said Presbury. "And for your daughter, too."
"I can't go," said Mildred. "I'm dining with the Fassetts."
The family no longer had a servant in constant attendance in the dining-room. The maid of many functions also acted as butler and as fetch-and-carry between kitchen and butler's pantry. Before speaking, Presbury waited until this maid had withdrawn to bring the roast and the vegetables. Then he said:
"You are going, too, miss." This with the full infusion of insult into the "miss."
Mildred was silent.
"Bill Siddall is looking for a wife," proceeded Presbury. "And he has Heaven knows how many millions."
"Do you think there's a chance for Milly?" cried Mrs. Presbury, who was full of alternating hopes and fears, both wholly irrational.
"She can have him—if she wants him," replied Presbury. "But it's only fair to warn her that he's a stiff dose."
"Is the money—CERTAIN?" inquired Mildred's mother with that shrewdness whose rare occasional displays laid her open to the unjust suspicion of feigning her habitual stupidity.