"Hm!"
Gwendolyn blinked with the effort of making mental notes.
"You haven't heard the latest about him?"
"Trying to make some Club?"
Whispering—"On the edge of a crash."
"Who told you?"
"Oh, a little bird."
Up came both palms to cover Gwendolyn's mouth. But not to smother mirth. A startled cry had all but escaped her. A little bird! She knew of that bird! He had told things against her—true things more often than not—to Jane and Miss Royle. And now here he was chattering about her father!
"It's the usual story," commented Louise calmly, "with these nouveaux riches."
"Sh!" A moment of stillness, as if both were listening. Then, "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"