Charlotte Haviland, in her mother's wake, chanced to encounter Kenneth Moran, a red-faced, well-dressed and blushing youth of her own age. Her complacent mother was witness to the blameless conversation between them.
"How do you do, Kenneth? I didn't know you were here!"
"Oh, how do you do, Charlotte? How do you do, Isabelle? I didn't know you were here!"
Isabelle grinned silently in horrible embarrassment but Charlotte said, quick-wittedly:
"How is your mother, Kenneth, and Dorothy?"
"She's well--they're well, thank you. They're here somewhere--at least Mother is. I think Dorothy's still over at the Clays', playing tennis!"
He laughed violently at this admission, and Charlotte laughed, too.
"It's lovely weather for tennis," she said encouragingly. "We--"
"You--" Mr. Moran began. "I beg your pardon!"
"No, I interrupted you!"