“Then I needn’t have hurried, after all,” exclaimed Alice, in an aggrieved tone. “How would you like to take a look at the grounds before dinner, Emerson?”
“There’s hardly time, my dear.” Mrs. Pope’s manner was severely disapproving.
“Oh, yes, there is.” She took Hall by the arm, and moved toward the steps. “Come along, Emerson.”
“I will accompany you, Alice,” said her mother, hastily joining them. She evidently intended to keep Alice and the despised possessor of only four thousand a year under her watchful eye.
“Won’t you and Donald come too?” asked Alice sarcastically as she left the porch.
Donald regarded her without interest. He scarcely heard what she said. “No, we will wait here,” he replied; then looked searchingly at his wife.
“Call us when dinner is ready,” Alice flung back at them over her shoulder, as she and Mr. Hall disappeared around the corner of the veranda, Mrs. Pope puffing along in their wake, like a fussy little tugboat under full steam.
Edith was the first to break the silence. “Donald!” she faltered, her voice breaking pitifully; then took a step toward him.
“Is this story true?” he demanded.
“Wait, Donald—wait!” she cried. “Don’t judge me harshly.”