At the dinner table that evening Keith referred to his experience as listener in Hamilton and Company's shop.
“That girl with the queer name,” he said, “a niece of those two old chaps who run the place, I believe she is. Do you know anything about her, Gertrude?”
Before Mrs. Keith could reply, Edna spoke:
“Ask Sam, Dad,” she said, mischievously. “Sam knows about her. He just adores that store; he spends half his time there.”
“Nonsense, Edna!” protested Sam, turning red. “I don't do any such thing.”
“Oh, yes, you do. And you know about Mary-'Gusta too. He says she's a peach, Daddy.”
“Humph!” grunted her brother, indignantly. “Well, she is one. She's got every girl in your set skinned a mile for looks. But I don't know anything about her, of course.”
Mrs. Keith broke in. “Skinned a mile!” she repeated, with a shudder. “Sam, what language you do use! Yes, John,” she added, addressing her husband. “I know the girl well. She's pretty and she is sensible. For a girl who has had no opportunities and has lived all her life here in South Harniss she is really quite remarkable. Why do you speak of her, John?”
Mr. Keith related a part of the conversation between Mary-'Gusta and Mr. Kron.
“She handled the fellow splendidly,” he said. “She talked business with him and she wouldn't let him talk anything else. But it was plain enough to see that she felt insulted and angry. It seems a pity that a girl like that should have to put up with that sort of thing. I wonder if her uncles, old Mr. Hamilton and Captain Shadrach, realize what happens when they're not about? How would they take it, do you think, if I dropped a hint?”