Mr. Mallow was too human not to enjoy prolonging the suspense a moment; he was too kind to prolong it further.
"Johanna Ross!" he announced explosively. "I was surprised!"
"Johanna Ross!" all the ladies cried out in chorus.
"Well, I never did!" Mrs. Wibird further elucidated the situation.
"How unexpected!" said Miss Almeria gravely.
"Yet not unnatural, sister!" Miss Egeria murmured gently. "Kitty's own aunt, you know!"
"I am fully aware of that, my love!" Miss Almeria bent her head with dignity. "Nothing could be more natural, under ordinary circumstances; but Johanna is—peculiar, I am obliged to say."
"I never could get over her not comin' to Doctor's funeral!" Mrs. Wibird lamented. "I was brought up with Johanna, but I never could get over that. And that message she sent! They were takin' stock, and John would understand. I hope he did, for I'm sure nobody else did."
Mrs. Wibird gave a shiver of reprehension, and set her thin lips. She was a forlorn little lady, the opposite in every way of her brother. Marshall Mallow would have looked—and been—well nourished on bread and cheese, if he had enough of it. Marcia Mallow had always looked, as Mrs. Sharpe expressed it, like the thin end of a pea-pod, and the most generous diet never added a pound to the ninety-nine she owned to. Melissa had tried more than once to "flesh her up," without success. But then, "they" said she gave all the nice things her brother sent her to "that Wilson." Melissa always looked hungry, too; even to-night, after that excellent lobster supper. Cyrus collectively hoped that that Wilson would get his come-uppance some day. Melissa Wibird would be a pretty girl if she didn't look starved.
"Has she come to stay, think?" asked Mrs. Wibird. "Did Kitty say, Marsh? What did she say?"