"Well, cut some cake, not in too large pieces, and I'll be down presently," and she was about to dart toward the door when Miss Gastonguay recalled her.
"Mary Potts Negus, I'm not going to stay to supper."
"Now, now," and the little woman exhibited so much disappointment that Derrice laid a pleading hand on her new friend's knee.
"I never do such a thing in the world."
"Make a beginning, then, I'd love to have you, particularly as you send me such good checks for these little ones."
"But I've got my niece here."
"That is no matter; she often comes."
"Very well," said Miss Gastonguay, with resignation. "Go, one of you boys, and send my carriage home."
The twins whipped out-of-doors, and Miss Gastonguay thoughtfully watched Derrice, who had seated herself on the hearth-rug and was tickling the baby's dimpled chin until he shrieked with delight.
"Where's your husband, child?"