"I daresay not," the priest answered. "But let's rehearse what you do know. Now suppose you could elope with a new man every week and no questions asked? Or how often would you want to?"
Sylvia said:
"Just a moment, Father," and she addressed Mrs. Satterthwaite: "I suppose I shall have to put myself to bed."
"You will," Mrs. Satterthwaite said. "I'll not have any maid kept up after ten in a holiday resort. What's she to do in a place like this? Except listen for the bogies it's full of?"
"Always considerate!" Mrs. Tietjens gibed. "And perhaps it's just as well. I'd probably beat that Marie of your's arms to pieces with a hair-brush if she came near me." She added: "You were talking about men, Father. . . ." And then began with sudden animation to her mother:
"I've changed my mind about that telegram. The first thing to-morrow I shall wire: 'Agreed entirely but arrange bring Hullo Central with you.'"
She addressed the priest again:
"I call my maid Hullo Central because she's got a tinny voice like a telephone." I say: "Hullo Central"—when she answers 'Yes, modd'm,' you'd swear it was the Exchange speaking. . . . But you were telling me about men."
"I was reminding you!" the Father said. "But I needn't go on. You've caught the drift of my remarks. That is why you are pretending not to listen."
"I assure you, no," Mrs. Tietjens said. "It is simply that if a thing comes into my head I have to say it. . . . You were saying that if one went away with a different man for every week-end . . ."