If Hazel’s letter brought a strange wondering sense of disquietude to Rosamund, and that not wholly on her cousin’s account, the much shorter note which she had sent her mother apparently produced no such effect. Bertha appeared at luncheon with a brow but slightly corrugated, and only an added tinge of briskness in her manner to betray perturbation of spirit.
“I see you’ve had a letter from Hazel by the midday post, Rosamund,” observed Miss Blandflower in the middle of luncheon, with a praiseworthy desire to dissipate the slight atmosphere of constraint which had lately been noticeable at meals, in spite of the valiant and hearty efforts of Mrs. Tregaskis. “When does she return to the bosom of her family?” She gave a slight giggle in lieu of quotation marks.
Rosamund hesitated, felt her cousin Bertha glance sharply at her, and answered nervously:
“I’m not sure—soon, I think.”
“She has two more visits to pay,” said Mrs. Tregaskis coldly. “You knew that, Rosamund.”
Her husband looked up suddenly.
“She’s coming back on Friday. You knew that, Bertha,” he said mockingly. “I understand that our parental sanction is required to an engagement of marriage. Very gratifying, I’m sure, in these emancipated days.”
Miss Blandflower turned startled eyes from one to the other of Hazel’s parents.
“They say one wedding makes another,” she sighed with nervous inappositeness. “But is it really—who is it...?”
“My dear Minnie, Hazel is a silly little girl who ought never to have been allowed to pay visits without a chaperoning mamma. It serves me right for having relaxed my rule—but one can’t be in two places at once, and really these young ladies require such a lot of looking after!”