Then, ashamed of the word she had employed, she continued more gently.
“So you have been making a tour of investigation because you considered that I was neglecting my duty? All I can say, Aunt Patricia, is that you will always discover Sally Ashton flirting if there is an agreeable man in sight. I cannot make up my mind whether or not Sally is unconscious, yet flirting with her is either an instinct, an art, or both. However, every man who sees her immediately succumbs. But as for Peggy, Peggy is an absolutely trustworthy person! Did I not tell you that Peggy considers herself engaged to Ralph Marshall, who is in the aviation service in France at the present time? None of Peggy’s family will acknowledge her engagement; we feel she is too young, yet Ralph’s parents are old friends of my sister and brother-in-law. After a time I am sure you will understand the Camp Fire Girls better.”
There was undeniably a tone of condescension in Mrs. Burton’s voice, and Aunt Patricia sniffed.
“I understand the girls as well as I consider necessary, Polly Burton, and probably better than you do. I have always insisted that you have little knowledge of human nature. As for thinking that a girl of Peggy’s age, with almost no experience of life, can have any idea of the character of man she could or should marry—”
But here, realizing that Miss Patricia was mounted upon one of her favorite hobbies and that nothing she could say or do would stop her, Mrs. Burton, pretending to offer a polite attention, in reality allowed her mind to wander.
Miss Patricia was usually antagonistic to all male persons safely past their babyhood. Among her friends it was an open question whether Aunt Patricia had been jilted at an early age, or whether she had never condescended to an admirer.
“All men are idiots,” is what she had been known to remark when hard pressed.
Gradually Mrs. Burton allowed herself to slip back in her chair, resting her head more comfortably against a brown velvet cushion.
It was strange that she had felt so little fear of the submarine menace during the present voyage, when she had expected to be fearful the entire way across. There were odd moments at night when one could not sleep, thinking of the possible, even the probable danger that might manifest itself at any moment. But aside from obeying the ship’s rules with regard to life belts and lights, the keeping of one’s state-room door unlatched, what was there to do save trust in a higher power?
Actually at this moment Mrs. Burton, while presumably listening, was deciding that she was enjoying the very crossing to France she had so much dreaded.