"Hullo, Aunt Adelaide! Who would have thought of seeing you here."
Miss Brent looked up at her, received the frigid kiss upon one cheek and returned it upon the other.
"A peck for a peck," muttered Patricia to herself under her breath.
"We've been talking about you," said Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe ingratiatingly.
"How strange," announced Patricia indifferently. "Well, Aunt Adelaide," she continued, turning to Miss Brent, "this is an unexpected pleasure. How is it you are dissipating in town?"
"I want to speak to you, Patricia. Is there a quiet corner where we shall not be overheard?"
Miss Wangle started, Mrs. Craske-Morton rose hurriedly and made for the door. Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe looked uncomfortable. Miss Brent's directness was a thing dreaded by all who knew her.
"You had better come up to my room, Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia.
As she reached the door, Mrs. Craske-Morton turned. "Oh! Miss Brent," she said, addressing Patricia, "would you not like to take your aunt into my boudoir? It is entirely at your disposal."
Mrs. Craske-Morton's "boudoir" was a small cupboard-like apartment in which she made up her accounts. It was as much like a boudoir as a starveling mongrel is like an aristocratic chow. Patricia smiled her thanks. One of Patricia's great points was that she could smile an acknowledgment in a way that was little less than inspiration.