“Oh, well, I suppose daddy is perfectly at liberty to do as he likes as long as he makes matters clear to you. We have no right to dictate who he shall take to the Trocadero to dine.”
“My dear child—my precious child—” said Regina almost breaking down, but recovering herself with a snap as it were. Then she went on in the same fierce tone, “I shall not forget this, Julia, my darling; one can always rely on you in a moment of emergency, Maudie has not half your sound common-sense—she’s a feather head compared to you.”
“Oh, she’ll be all right. You tip Harry the wink—”
“What!”
“Oh! I beg your pardon, mummy, I forgot. Shall I tell Harry to stop Maudie blabbing?”
“I wish you would. You might explain to him a little. Now, here we are, here we are, now don’t let us speak of it again; it’s all much more simple than you children think.”
Now it happened that on the way down to the theatre, Harry Marksby had given Maudie a hint, or, as Julia would have put it, tipped her the wink, to say nothing whatever about what had occurred.
“I don’t understand why,” she had replied. “Why should daddy be dining with that bold-looking woman when mother thought he was dining with a friend at the Criterion?”
“Well, you can’t tell. As long as your mother doesn’t want it spoken of, it’s no business of ours. Now, hold your tongue, Maudie darling; I rely upon you not to say a word, you’ll only upset everybody’s apple-cart if you do.”
“Well, I’m not likely to say anything against my own father. All the same,” said Maudie, with the suspicion of a pout, “I do think that father ought to feel it incumbent upon him not to disgrace us in public places. If he was only dining with a friend why couldn’t I go and speak to him—I’m his own child? And if he was dining with somebody he wouldn’t like to take home—”