“It’s your turn now,” he said to the old lady. “I am to be shut in here while you two talk secrets. I hate secrets, but they’re awful ’citing. Go, Mrs. Ives, and talk to her. She’s a very handsome woman, and she’s a lady, but I do wish she didn’t want us to keep so many secrets.”
“What’s up?” asked Mrs. Ives. “Whisper to me, honey.”
“I think it’s because we walked past Ashley Mansions.” He stopped and clapped his hand to his mouth. “Don’t you remember how I stopped opposite No. 12 and made you guess—don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember,” said Mrs. Ives, with a toss of her head. “And I can put two and two together as well as most. I’ll have a talk with Clara. Clara may keep things from the rest of the world, but she’s not going to keep them from her old mother. You rest quiet, my little lamb; you and I will be a match for Clara yet, although she is such a fine lady.”
Mrs. Ives went back into the sitting-room. She dropped a mocking curtsey to her daughter.
“A mercy me!” she cried for the third time. “And what’s your ladyship’s pleasure with me?”
“Don’t talk nonsense, mother,” said Clara. “Sit down and let us discuss things.”
“I’m agreeable,” said old Mrs. Ives.
“This kind of thing can’t go on, you know,” said Clara.
“What kind of thing, your ladyship?”