"The people you spent the Christmas holidays with in Washington? A fine old Irish name," commented the Major, who made something of a specialty of names. "I have not the pleasure of their acquaintance, but I am sure the good Sisters would not have permitted you to visit them if they had not been—ah! desirable acquaintances."
"They are quite rich, if that is what you mean," said his daughter bluntly. Her manner to her father had latterly undergone a change which was not altogether nice.
The Major's eyebrows shot up in pained surprise. "Joan! That is certainly irrelevant, not to say—"
"And there's an eligible young man in the family," continued the girl imperturbably.
He stared at her, speechless. "My child!" he exclaimed after a moment. "One would suppose you were actually—"
"Hunting for a husband? I am," she finished. "What else did you expect me to do?"
A burst of laughter from Effie May relieved the situation. "Of course she's hunting for a husband! All girls are, unless they're lookin' for trouble. Good for you, dearie! You'll land him, too, I'll bet my hat. Men? Lord," she cried, "they're as easy as fallin' off a log, once you get the hang of 'em!"
But the Major continued to gaze at his daughter incredulously. "To think," he murmured, "that I should live to hear my daughter speak in such a manner!" It was evidently not the idea which shocked him, so much as the indelicate expression of it.
Joan rose suddenly and left the table.
Effie May came to her afterwards, intent on comforting. "There, there, girlie, you mustn't mind what your papa says; he's just a man. Besides, he's so genteel in his instincts he's hardly human. Your mamma would have understood, just like I do. She wouldn't of thought you'd said anything unrefined!"