“He has camped upstairs,” smiled Mrs. Hogg, “for many a week-end. But we have seen little of him since James went to Chicago to work for Mr. Asher Ferry.”
“Aunt Susan, I’ve seen Mr. Ferry’s yacht and I’ve seen his daughter. She is awfully pretty.”
“Yes, Gratia is beautiful.”
“Oh, is that her name?”
Kate, wondering whether the lecturer’s fee was balm for a wound inflicted or hope for future favors, changed the conversation.
“Mrs. Hogg, is what was printed in the local paper last evening true?”
“Why, yes. Miss Coggeshall is referring to an article that some impertinent correspondent has written about my husband’s family. My son is not aware that that curious old cabinet over there was made by a Huguenot ancestor in Southampton.”
After dinner the party retired to the porch but not until Mrs. Hogg had gone to the old cabinet and taken thence a document and a tiny box.
“Jean, when I heard you were coming to Wickford today, I sent to the bank and bought another gold piece.”
“Why, thank you very much, aunt Susan. Here’s a kiss for you, right on your pink cheek.”