Allen’s pudgy palms clasped. Aunt Helene eyed one, then another of the group, as though bewildered.
Only Pape’s gaze did not wander. It turned from the blind man’s face to fix upon that of Mills Harford. At the silent accusation, Irene sprang toward him, no longer a kitten, but a flare-eyed mother-cat in defense of her own.
“Don’t you dare accuse my Harfy, you cave-brute!” she cried. “Just because he makes money out of real-estate isn’t any reason to jump at the conclusion that he——”
“Right, Rene.” Pape had a sympathetic grin for her vehemence. “I was only considering your Harfy as a possible witness to the truth. Cross my heart, I ain’t got a thing against him personally, now that he has consented to take you instead of——”
“You horrid, hateful thing!” she screamed. “What do you mean by ‘consented to’——”
“Stand corrected, miss, soon to be madame. Now that you have consented to take him instead of aspiring to me.”
“Beast! However could I have thought you nice-nice?”
“Can’t say, unless it is that I am—sometimes.”
Jane broke up their sprightly exchange with the serious demand: “But the some one more directly responsible?”
“Be done with innuendo, young man!” Mrs. Sturgis rose to her feet, with every inch of her scant height counting. “A gentleman—one of whom we say ‘to the manner born’—makes no accusation without proof.”