“That woman,” said Miss Fortescue, incisively, “thinks everything that doesn’t live in a close is immoral.”
“I’ve got a letter from ‘that woman,’ which I shall read you after lunch,” said Jeannie. “Poor Mrs. Collingwood is in a terrible state of mind.”
“She always is,” said Miss Fortescue. “She is always either deploring something or condemning something. Which does she do in your letter, Jeannie? A shade more pâté, please.”
“She does both,” said Jeannie.
“I would give a hundred pounds,” said Arthur, “if I had it, to see Mrs. Collingwood tipsy.”
“It would do her a world of good,” said Miss Fortescue. “Her only chance of learning to forgive any one for drinking lies in drinking too much herself. I can not stand people who think that the miracle at Cana consisted in water being turned into fruit syrup.”
“Don’t be profane, Aunt Em,” said Jeannie.
Aunt Em cast her eyes to the ceiling. She had finished her pâté.
“I don’t know whom we are waiting for,” she observed.
“No one, dear, if you have finished,” said Jeannie. “Come out, Arthur. The revelations shall begin.”