And Mrs. Dagon resumed the study of Mrs. Dinks.
“Or of the grand-nephew of Christopher Burt,” said the latter, putting up her own glasses and returning the stare.
“Grand-nephew! Is Alfred Dinks not the grandson of Mr. Burt?” asked Mrs. Newt, earnestly.
“No, he is his grand-nephew. I am the niece of Mr. Burt—daughter of his brother Jonathan, deceased,” replied Mrs. Dinks.
“Oh!” said Mrs. Newt, dolefully.
“Not a very near relation,” added Mrs. Dagon. “Grand-nephews don’t count.”
That might be true, but it was thin consolation for Mrs. Newt, who began to take fire.
“But, Mrs. Dinks, how did this affair come about?” asked she.
“Exactly,” chimed in Aunt Dagon; “how did it come about?”
“My dear Mrs. Newt,” replied Mrs. Dinks, entirely overlooking the existence of Mrs. Dagon, “you know my son Alfred and your daughter Fanny. So do I. Do you believe that Alfred ran away with Fanny, or Fanny with Alfred. Theoretically, of course, the man does it. Do you believe Alfred did it?”