“Why, have you met my niece?” asked Mrs. Sandworth, looking from one to the other.
“Oh, yes; Mr. Rankin’s my oldest new friend in Endbury. I met him the first day I was back.”
“And when I set up the newel-post—”
“And I ran on to his house by accident the day Marietta and I were out with little Pete, when it rained and I borrowed his overcoat and umbrella—”
“And then I had to call to take them away, of course—”
They intoned their confessions like a gay antiphonal chant. A bright color had come up in Lydia’s cheeks. She looked very sunny and good-humored, like a cheerful child, an expression which up to that year had been habitual to her. Dr. Melton looked at her without speaking.
“So, you see,” she concluded, “not to speak of several other times—we’re very well acquainted.”
“Well, Marius! Did you ever!” Mrs. Sandworth appealed to her brother.
“Oh, I’ve known about it all along. Rankin and I have discussed Lydia as well as other weighty matters, a great many times.”
Mrs. Sandworth’s easily diverted mind sped off into another channel. “Yes, how you do discuss. I’m going to look right at the clock every minute from now on, so’s to be sure to remind you of that engagement at Judge Emery’s office at half-past nine. I know what happens when you and Mr. Rankin get to talking.”