Kitty began to talk. Scidmore sat silent, crumbling his bread. Finally the dread subject came to life. Kitty looked up and said,—
'Julia was late to-day, as usual. Poor dear Julia, what a generous soul she is!'
Scidmore began to fidget. 'Late? How did that happen? She left our office long before ten o'clock.'
'Oh, but you don't know Julia! She did a thousand and one things before she arrived here. And such a disheveled creature as she was! And so full of apologies and troubles! Nothing to speak of—she laughed them all away in five minutes.'
'Then she didn't tell—'
'About the insurance? I should say she did. She was so worried for fear you'd be distressed about it all. She admitted that she was to blame. But she knows how conscientious you are, and she was afraid—'
Scidmore impatiently interrupted his wife. 'Julia Norris ought to have some business sense, Kitty; upon my word she should. And it has worried me. A woman like that—one never can be sure of just what she does think. It's an even chance that deep down she believes that she delivered the message to me, and that I neglected it.'
He could feel his face flushing with mingled indignation and disapproval as he voiced his displeasure.
Kitty got up to pour a glass of water.
'Why, John,' she half chided, 'I'm sure Julia wouldn't be guilty of such a thought. You don't know her—generous—impulsive. Why, she'd forgive you for neglecting, if you really had neglected anything. As a matter of fact she said very decidedly, "If I'd been dealing with anybody but John Scidmore, I do believe I'd be inconsistent enough to try to blame the other fellow, but of course I know—"