Charley Kemp came over to Lottie in the doorway. Niece and aunt clasped hands—a strange, brief, close grip, like that between two men. No words.
"Late! I should think you are late. You knew this was Friday night."
"Now, now mother." Henry Kemp had a man's dread of a scene. "Lottie's not a child. We've only been here a few minutes."
"She might as well be—" ignoring his second remark. "Tell Hulda we're all here. Call Aunt Charlotte."
"I'll just skip back and beat up the Roquefort dressing first. Hulda gets it so lumpy.... Minute...."
"Lottie!" Mrs. Payson's voice was iron. "Lottie Payson, you change your good suit skirt first!"
Henry Kemp shouted. Mrs. Payson turned on him. "Well, what's funny about that!" He buried his face in the evening paper.
Belle's rather languid tones were heard now for the first time. "Lot, is that your winter hat you're still wearing?"
"Winter?—You don't mean to tell me I ought to be wearing a summer one! Already!" Lottie turned to go upstairs, dutifully. The suit skirt.
"Already! Why, it's March. Everybody——"