“On the seventeenth? I believe we go somewhere.”
“Do go to Mrs. Vanderdecken’s,” said Mrs. Chew; “you’ll see the cream of the cream.”
“Oh gracious!” Mrs. Vanderdecken vaguely cried.
“Well, I don’t care; she will, won’t she, Doctor Feeder?—the very pick of American society.” Mrs. Chew stuck to her point.
“Oh I’ve no doubt Lady Barb will have a good time,” said Sidney Feeder. “I’m afraid you miss the bran,” he went on with irrelevant jocosity to Jackson’s bride. He always tried the jocose when other elements had failed.
“The bran?” Jackson’s bride couldn’t think.
“Where you used to ride—in the Park.”
“My dear fellow, you speak as if we had met at the circus,” her husband interposed. “I haven’t married a mountebank!”
“Well, they put some stuff on the road,” Sidney Feeder explained, not holding much to his joke.
“You must miss a great many things,” said Mrs. Chew tenderly.