“I’m afraid you stayed in the water too long,” said Claudine, with a shade of anxiety.
“No,” whispered Edna to her mother. “It’s not that. She was simply terrified every minute! That snake, you know! And yet, of course, she would hover about the very spot where we saw it.... Don’t speak to her, Mother darling! She’ll be all right in a few minutes.”
The supper was undeniably a triumph for Mr. Stephens. He had done wonders. Carefully concealed, he had caused to be brought a freezer of ice cream, great vacuum bottles of iced tea, and rum to flavour it for those who liked it. His bearers had lighted a fire before leaving, and in it were roasted potatoes and corn. There were also cold chicken and a fine boiled ham and a great number of other delicacies. The guests were hungry and complimentary.
Afterward he brought out that gold cigarette case and passed it about.
“Do you mind if I have one, Mother?” asked Andrée.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Claudine, coldly. There was nothing she disliked more.
But Mr. MacGregor intervened.
“As long as Miss Andrée isn’t a singer,” he said, “won’t you be indulgent, Mrs. Vincelle? I believe they’re very good for the nerves. In my younger days, of course, such a thing would have been out of the question. But live and learn! My own sister—”
“Mercy, what a killing look!” murmured Edna to her sister. “He wants to show you how up-to-date and young he is!”
“Very well!” said Claudine, graciously. But it was not Mr. MacGregor’s plea which had persuaded her; it was the peculiar look on her child’s face. It would be unwise to cross her, she thought.