The girl, who was now hanging on to Mr. MacFie's arm, turned and regarded Lady Knob-Kerrick over her shoulder.
"He's my boooy," she spluttered; then closing her eyes her head wobbled from side to side, as if her neck were unable to support it.
"Your what?" thundered Lady Knob-Kerrick.
"My—my boooy," drawled the girl, "husband. Oh! Andy, Andy!" and she clung to Mr. MacFie the more closely in spite of his frantic efforts to shake himself free.
"Mr. MacFie, what is the meaning of this?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick.
"I've—I've never seen her before," stammered Mr. MacFie, looking as if he had been grabbed by an octopus. "On ma oath, your Leddyship. Before ma God!"
"Andy, Andy! don't say such awful things," protested the girl. "You know you married me secret because you said Helen wouldn't let you;" and she sagged away again, half supporting herself on Mr. MacFie's arm.
"Do you know anything of this woman?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick of Miss MacFie.
Miss MacFie shook her head as if the question were an insult.
"Then it was a secret marriage." Lady Knob-Kerrick remembered what she had heard of Mr. MacFie's conduct at the temperance fête. "Mr. MacFie, you have—you have disgraced——"