"So I see," she rejoined, smoothly. "We old married women will have to entertain one another. These young girls," her glance wandered from Lynn Thayer to two or three others and she smiled thoughtfully, "these young girls have their own topics of conversation."
"Now that," said Mrs. Hadwell to herself with unwilling admiration, "is neat, distinctly neat. Insult to me, insult to my best friend and insult to half a dozen of my guests and all in one short breath. Lynn, you're not going?" she added, aloud.
"I am indeed. Bob will be wondering what's become of me."
"Bob! You didn't bring him here?"
"I did, Del. You know I'm away all day and Aunt Lucy never takes him out. Poor little fellow! it's pathetic, the way he greets me when I get home."
"Miss Thayer is such an attractive person, isn't she?" murmured Mrs. Langham-Greene with a peculiar gleam in her lazy cat-like eyes. "She has such a fascination—for dogs and cats."
"You, Mrs. Langham-Greene," returned Lynn with equal sweetness, "can have no idea how nice it is to be able to fascinate something."
With that, she left. Mrs. Hadwell was delighted with the Parthian shot and indignant at Mrs. Langham-Greene's impudence in classing herself with her hostess under the title of "old married women." She therefore launched forth into a eulogy of her absent friend which, judging from appearances, went far to spoil the elegant widow's enjoyment of her cup of tea.
"Lynn is such a favourite with men, too," she concluded.
"Really," rejoined the green-eyed siren, carelessly. "But girls who teach do age so rapidly, don't you think so, Mrs. Hadwell? and they are apt to become soured and to mistake rudeness for repartee."