“I say, Maude, what about that young lady at Leighton? Who is she; that is, what is her real name?”
“Her real name?” and Maude opened her blue eyes wonderingly. “She is Miss Louise Overton. You have known that all the time. Why do you ask me so queer a question?”
“Maude, this will never do,” and Georgie’s eyes had a stony look in them. “You pride yourself on ferreting out things, and you have not been at Rocky Point with the soi-disant Miss Overton so much for nothing. You know who she is, and I know too.”
“And pray who is she?” Maude asked, her cheeks flushing and her temper beginning to give way.
“She was Edna Browning, and Charlie Churchill’s wife. My memory is not so short that I have forgotten the girl at Iona, bruised and scratched as she was then. I recognized her almost immediately, and I wonder at her temerity in venturing to a place where she knew she would see me more or less. Why did she come,—that is, why has she taken another name than her own?”
There was no use for Maude to pretend ignorance any longer, and she frankly replied:
“Her coming here was my own plan. The change of name was long ago, when she first went to Rocky Point. Her uncle preferred and insisted that she bear his name, and so she joined her second to it which made her ‘Louise Overton.’ I want Roy and his mother to like her, and both, or rather Mrs. Churchill is more likely to do this if she knows her first as a stranger. Roy will like her any way; he cannot help it.”
Maude had made her explanation and waited for Georgie’s reply, which was:
“I think less of the girl now than I did before, and so will Roy and his mother when I tell them, as I shall.”
“Tell them,” Maude repeated, her blue eyes beginning to blaze with anger; “tell them, Georgie! You certainly cannot intend anything as mean as that! If Edna wishes to remain incog., can you not, as a woman, respect her wishes, and keep her secret to yourself?”