Mrs. Trask’s “poor Ursula” but added to his discomposure, and when she turned on him and demanded of him further information he could cheerfully have twisted her gentle neck. When Teddy had announced in his loud, ringing tones that Ben Benson was his brother-in-law, Mr. Cheatham felt the blood mounting to his face and for a moment a strange dizziness held him.
“Arrested digestion!” was Josie’s mental diagnosis. “A shock coming too closely on the heels of ham and turkey and various side dishes.”
Had Mr. Cheatham realized that his face had taken on first a crimson then a purple tinge, and now was fading to green, he would have been more unhappy than he was, and he was uncomfortable enough. He found his voice somewhere and seemed to raise it as if through packed-down layers of dinner. He wondered if it sounded as strange to other persons as to him.
“I—I know nothing about Ben Benson, but I do not believe he is dead. I can assure you my stepdaughter has been in constant correspondence with him and surely if he had died she would have known. Although her behavior to me has been unnatural beyond belief, I am sure she would at least inform me should she learn of her uncle’s death.”
“Of course she would!” declared Teddy heartily.
“Of course!” murmured Mrs. Trask.
Mr. Cheatham’s digestive process was resumed, so decided Josie. Green gave place to violet and then to his accustomed ruddy complexion. He heaved a great sigh and accepted the wedge of mince pie handed him by Anita.
Josie felt Teddy’s arm give hers a gentle pressure. She was grateful to him for not attempting to catch her eye.
“You might hit him again before so very long,” she suggested, as the clatter of pie forks again made a confidential remark possible.
“Watch me!” murmured Teddy in an audible tone, and a casual listener would have thought he meant watch him eat pie.