“It will be only a step from that to real swearing,” said Uncle James sternly.
“The worst of this”—Mrs. Frederick hunted for a dry spot on her handkerchief—“is that every one will know now that she is deranged. We can’t keep it a secret any longer. Oh, I cannot bear it!”
“You should have been stricter with her when she was young,” said Uncle Benjamin.
“I don’t see how I could have been,” said Mrs. Frederick—truthfully enough.
“The worst feature of the case is that Snaith scoundrel is always hanging around Roaring Abel’s,” said Uncle James. “I shall be thankful if nothing worse comes of this mad freak than a few weeks at Roaring Abel’s. Cissy Gay can’t live much longer.”
“And she didn’t even take her flannel petticoat!” lamented Cousin Stickles.
“I’ll see Ambrose Marsh again about this,” said Uncle Benjamin—meaning Valancy, not the flannel petticoat.
“I’ll see Lawyer Ferguson,” said Uncle James.
“Meanwhile,” added Uncle Benjamin, “let us be calm.”