Ready to sink through the floor, Laura replied that she did.
"Then I've the pleasure of knowing your mother.—Tall dark woman, isn't she?"
Under the table, Laura locked the palms of her hands and stemmed her feet against the floor. Was here, now, before them all, and Bob in particular, the shameful secret of the embroidery to come to light? She could hardly force her lips to frame an answer.
Her confusion was too patent to be overlooked. Above her lowered head, signs passed between husband and wife, and soon afterwards the family rose from the table.
But Tilly was so obviously sulky that the tense could not let her escape him thus.
He cried: "For God's sake, Tilly, stand still! What on earth have you got on your back?"
Tilly came from up-country and her thoughts leapt fearfully to scorpions and tarantulas. Affrighted, she tried to peer over her shoulder, and gave a preliminary shriek. "Gracious!—whatever is it?"
"Hold on!" He approached her with the tongs; the next moment to ejaculate: "Begad, it's not a growth, it's a bustle!" and as he spoke he tweaked the place where a bustle used to be worn.
Even Bob had to join in the ensuing boohoo, which went on and on till Laura thought the Uncle would fall down in a fit. Then for the third time he invited those present to join him in summoning the cats, murmured something about "humping his bluey", and went out into the hall, where they heard him swinging Thumbby "round the world".
It was all the Aunt could do to mollify Tilly, who was enraged to the point of tears. "I've never worn a bustle in my life! Uncle's a perfect FOOL! I've never met such a fool as he is!"