“Well, the Sam Fresbies. But the most important person, of course, is Mrs. Lorin Boulger.”
“Mrs. Boulger? Leila didn’t tell me she was coming.”
“Didn’t she? I suppose she forgot everything when she saw you. But the party was got up for Mrs. Boulger. You see, it’s very important that she should—well, take a fancy to Leila and Wilbour; his being appointed to Rome virtually depends on it. And you know Leila insists on Rome in order to be near you. So she asked Mary Giles, who’s intimate with the Boulgers, if the visit couldn’t possibly be arranged; and Mary’s cable caught Mrs. Boulger at Cherbourg. She’s to be only a fortnight in America; and getting her to come directly here was rather a triumph.”
“Yes; I see it was,” said Mrs. Lidcote.
“You know, she’s rather—rather fussy; and Mary was a little doubtful if—”
“If she would, on account of Leila?” Mrs. Lidcote murmured.
“Well, yes. In her official position. But luckily she’s a friend of the Barkleys. And finding the Gileses and Fresbies here will make it all right. The times have changed!” Susy Suffern indulgently summed up.
Mrs. Lidcote smiled. “Yes; a few years ago it would have seemed improbable that I should ever again be dining with Mary Giles and Harriet Fresbie and Mrs. Lorin Boulger.”
Miss Suffern did not at the moment seem disposed to enlarge upon this theme; and after an interval of silence Mrs. Lidcote suddenly resumed: “Do they know I’m here, by the way?”
The effect of her question was to produce in Miss Suffern an exaggerated access of peering and frowning. She twitched the tea-things about, fingered her bugles, and, looking at the clock, exclaimed amazedly: “Mercy! Is it seven already?”