“Ah, I have my family to think of,” sighed Mrs. Atterton, whose back was not to be outdone by any stranger’s. “No one knows the effort——”
“How splendid of you,” said Phyllis. “I do admire pluck.”
“To give a large party in your state of health—awfully unselfish,” murmured Irene.
Then they all passed on, and Mrs. Atterton remarked to her daughter Norah that Mr. Deane’s relations seemed very good-hearted, kind people. She was glad, because she liked Mr. Deane.
“You wouldn’t like those eyes and those stockings in the family though, would you?” said Norah, looking after the young ladies.
“In our family?” said Mrs. Atterton. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I suppose if Elizabeth were to marry Mr. Deane they would be in our family, in a way, wouldn’t they?”
“Elizabeth—Mr. Deane—how ridic——” began Mrs. Atterton, when a new batch of visitors came up. But when they also had gone on into the gardens she said uneasily—
“Norah, where is Elizabeth?”
Norah laughed.