Miss Groggerton was enjoying the oratory so much, she made no attempt at interruption. This would be a delightful tale for repetition. Susiebelle, once having begun to speak, had lost control over her tongue, a state with which many will readily sympathise.
“I went to the temple specially when Lady Flamington died, and thanked the Serpent, because I thought it was my turn next, and—and—and now it’s old Agnes Crokerly—old cat!”
“Old Agnes Crokerly!” said Miss Groggerton, with a snort and a sneer. “Old Agnes Crokerly!”
“Well, he’s asked her to do the thing for him. And he giving a big affair with Lady Flamington warm in her coffin yet! And never a crape band round his arm or his hat for her.”
“Well! Women who make themselves too cheap can’t expect to be respected even in their graves.”
“She never made herself too cheap. Ma fought tooth and nail to get her to our place, and wouldn’t have managed it then if it hadn’t been for Mr. Barringcourt, who’s more democratic in his views. He brought her to a charity concert when her husband was away in the land of Big Boasts and Loud Voices, and ma improved the occasion.”
“And now,” said the other contemptuously, “you say John Crokerly’s sister has taken her place.”
“Yes; it’s the way with young men. Mollycoddled by women old enough to be their mothers.”
Her tears began to flow again.
“He’s not so very young,” said Miss Groggerton impressively. “And you bet your bottom dollar it’s the other one he’s after.”