‘She’s been at that uncomfortable portal for the past year,’ says Betty, with distinct scorn. ‘In my opinion, it would take a lot of pushing to make her pass it.’
‘Elizabeth, this frivolity is absolutely disgraceful,’ says Miss Barry, directing a withering glance at Betty, who, it must be said, bears up beneath it with the utmost fortitude. ‘Dr. Mulcahy was with her. I’ve always thought him a distinctly vulgar person, and really, after what he said of poor Miss Blake to-day, I feel justified in my opinion.’
‘What did he say, auntie?’
‘I hardly like to repeat it. An insult to a poor dying creature seems impossible, doesn’t it, Mr. Crosby? But I heard him myself. After all, why should not I speak? One ought to expose monsters. My dear’—to Susan—‘Lady Millbank had called to ask how Miss Blake was—at least, I suppose it was for that purpose—but she mumbles so, on account of those false teeth of hers, no doubt, that I scarcely heard what she was saying. But I did hear what Dr. Mulcahy said to her a moment afterwards. He was speaking of poor dear Kate Blake, and I distinctly heard him say she was “low”!’ Miss Barry pauses dramatically, but, beyond a smothered sound from Dom, nothing is heard.
‘Aren’t you shocked, Susan, or must I believe that the young people of this generation are devoid of feeling. A Mulcahy to call a Blake “low”! It struck me as so abominable a piece of impertinence that I went away on the instant. I don’t know, of course, how Lady Millbank took it, but I hope she put down that insolent man without hesitation. Fancy a Blake being called “low”! Why, poor dear Kate! she is as well born as ourselves.’
‘But, auntie—’
‘Nonsense, my dear! Don’t talk to me. You children would find an excuse for anyone.’
‘It was only that I think he meant that she was not so very well—’
‘Born? Not so well born as the rest of us? You must be mad, Susan! A creature like Dr. Mulcahy to talk of birth at all is absurd. Why, his father was a draper in Dublin. But that he should cavil at Kate Blake’s birth is outrageous. Why, the Blakes—’ She stops, as if overcome by wrath, and Dom takes up the parable.
‘I thought you knew, Susan,’ says he reproachfully, but in a cautious tone, heard only by the youngsters of the party, ‘that it was poor Miss Blake’s forefather who planted that tree of good and evil over which Adam came such a cropper.’