Carmelita opened her eyes and her mouth, and stood as one petrified.
“Well, if I ever—!” was all that she whispered to herself, in the obscurity of her mother’s room. She had addressed just seven words to Jack Hatterly on the fishing trip, and five of these were “Apple pie, if you please;” and the other two, uttered later, were “Not very.”
“But, Mr. Hatterly,” persisted Mrs. Billington, “when did you receive this assurance of my daughter’s feelings? You tell me that you spoke to her on this subject only the night before last, and I am sure she has hardly been out of my sight since.”
“Yesterday,” said Jack, in his calmest and most assured tone; “on the boat, coming home, during the squall.”
Miss Billington (behind the door, aside).—“The shameless wretch! Why, he doesn’t seem even to know that he’s lying!”
“But, Mr. Hatterly,” exclaimed Mrs. Billington; “during the squall we were all in the cabin, and you were outside, steering!”
“Certainly,” said Jack.
“Then—excuse me, Mr. Hatterly—but how could my daughter have conveyed any such intelligence to you?”
Miss Billington (as before).—“What is the man going to say now? He must be perfectly crazy!”
Mr. Hatterly was calm and imperturbed.