“And while we’re talking about the best-looking things in the church last night,” she said, “what about you just pulling the wool over all of ’em?”
Again Mahala faced her with eyes of candour.
“I really don’t think I did,” she said. “Edith was as handsome as a girl well could be last night, and I suspect her dress cost almost twice as much as mine.”
“Not if you count all the hours and hours of dainty handwork you put on it,” said Serena. “I’m going through the kitchen and say ‘Howdy’ to Jemima.”
“Oh, certainly,” answered Mahala. She turned and preceded Serena to the kitchen. She opened the door, and meeting Jemima’s glance, she gave her a sharp little frown and pulled down the corners of her mouth. There was a negative in the tilt of her head that Jemima well understood. As she stepped aside to let Serena pass, Mahala said to Jemima: “Here’s your friend come to have a visit with you. She’ll be wanting you to tell her everything about Commencement that I didn’t.”
“Because it happened to be a secret,” put in Serena.
“Exactly,” said Mahala, her eyes hard on Jemima’s face.
Jemima shot back the answer for which she was waiting. With peace in her heart so far as Serena was concerned, Mahala closed the door and sought refuge in her room to avoid another unpleasant séance with her mother.
At ten o’clock that morning Junior Moreland went into the bank, stopping a moment to chat with the bookkeeper and the cashier.
He said jestingly: “I believe I’ll just step back and suggest to the President that I’ve left the bay and the presidential chair is floating on the ocean before me.”