Mrs. Black condescendingly expressed her opinion that the rocker was a “dear.”
“I love old-fashioned things,” she said. “So does Mr. Black. Don't you, Phelps?”
“Yes,” replied that gentleman. His love did not appear to be over-enthusiastic.
“But do tell us about your little legacy,” went on the lady. “Of course we have heard all sorts of ridiculous stories, but we know better than to believe them. Why, we even heard that you were worth a million. Naturally, THAT was absurd, wasn't it? Ha! ha!”
Captain Dan opened his mouth to reply, but his wife flashed a glance in his direction, and he closed it again.
“Yes,” said Serena, addressing Mrs. Black, “that was absurd, of course.”
“So I told Phelps. I said that the way in which these country people exaggerated such things was too funny for anything. Why, we heard that your cousin had died—that is, I heard it was a cousin; Phelps heard it was an uncle. An uncle was what you heard, wasn't it, Phelps?”
“Yes,” said Phelps. It was his second contribution to the conversation.
“So,” went on Mrs. Black, “we didn't know which it was.”
She paused, smilingly expectant. Again Captain Dan started to speak, and again a look from his wife caused him to change his mind. Before he had quite recovered, Mrs. Black, who may have noticed the look, had turned to him.