"Alexia Rhys doesn't know a thing more than we do, Frances," said Clem, "only she pretends she's in the secret."
"I was down at Dunraven at the Christmas splurge," said Alexia, "and you were not, Clem. That's all I shall say," and she leisurely disposed herself in a big chair, and began to draw on her gloves, with the air of one who could reveal volumes were she so disposed.
"Polly wouldn't ever send him off," said one of the girls, "I don't believe. Why, he's horribly rich; and just think of marrying into the Bayley family—oh my!"
"I should think the shock of being asked to enter that family, would kill any girl, to begin with," said Clem. "Why, he goes back to William the Conqueror, doesn't he? And there's an earl in the family, and I don't know what else. And then beside, there's his mother; the idea of sitting opposite to her at the table every single day—oh dear me! I know I should drop my knife and fork and things, from pure fright."
"I'm sure I don't see why anybody is proud to have his family go back all the time," said Alexia Rhys; "for my part I should want to start things forward a little myself."
"Well, who does know anything about it, why Mr. Bayley has gone off suddenly?" demanded Frances.
"No one knows," said Clem.
Alexia hummed a tune provokingly.
"We all guess, and it's easy enough to guess the truth; but Polly won't ever let it out, so that's all there is about it."
"Well, now, girls," said Alexia suddenly, "we must remember what we promised each other."