Mrs. Badgerly laughed in his face. Then she looked around the room for the nurse. She wished her flowers arranged just so in the bowl of old Chinese bronze which her husband and she hoped would keep them green in a dear friend’s memory. Would Miss Ponsonby put them in one by one as she directed? She herself was afraid of ruining her frock, which had already led to recrimination between herself and her husband.
“You do it beautifully, you know,” she purred, as the nurse’s deft fingers planted sprays of green and white. “You must not mind my comments. I am supposed to be a critic—really competent. I took lessons in Japan. Nothing is so satisfying as to lie face down on the floor, sticking cherry blossoms into a Satsuma vase.”
“Speaking of Japan,” remarked Judge Barton, “have those silks which you promised to get for me come yet?”
“You are not to mention those silks. They are on a navy boat.”
“Smuggling again,” said the Judge. “I believe you women do it for the sake of intrigue. You will never rest till you have gotten some poor wretch cashiered and have driven me off the bench. I did not mind the duty, and I do mind the delay. Why didn’t you have them sent down by mail?”
“I mind the duty. I shall oppose it on principle whenever I can. I delight in evading customs duties. It is the greatest pleasure I have in life.”
“Badgerly votes a Republican ticket, doesn’t he?”
“What ticket he votes is immaterial. So is what you say. Would you find me guilty and sentence me to imprisonment if I came up for trial in your august court?”
“I’ve no doubt I should cast about for extenuating circumstances, though you would not deserve my doing so. So I am to be the purveyor of smuggled goods, eh?”
“Oh, if you are too holy—” she rippled.