“The Niedlingers and the Parquetries didn’t show up at all; and the Ossingtons are said to have cut it out for good,” observed Susie.
“Yes; I saw Fred Ossington in London in the spring, and he said he had enough. Nice chap, Fred.”
“Too bad he had to give up polo,” said Susie, advancing her pickets daringly; “but I fancy his arm will never be fit again.”
“He’s going in for balloons. Can you believe it? Amusing fellow! Said he preferred falling on the earth to having it fall on him. And, besides, a balloon couldn’t kick when it had him down.”
The conversation was picking up, and quite clearly it was the unknown who was giving it momentum. Fish had been disposed of satisfactorily and Mrs. Burgess began to regain confidence. The unknown must be checked. It would not do for the girl to go further with this light, casual discussion, conveying as she did all sorts of implications of knowledge of the great in lofty places. The vintage of the dinner gown testified unimpeachably against her having any real knowledge of Newport, a place where Mrs. Burgess had once spent a day at a hotel. Mrs. Burgess resolved to squelch the impostor. Such presumption should not go unrebuked even at one’s own table. Pendleton was now discussing aviation with this impertinent Susie, who brought to the subject the same light touch of apparent sophistication she had employed in speaking of Newport and polo. She asked him if he had read an account of a new steering device for dirigibles; she thought she had seen it in L’Illustration. Pendleton was interested, and scribbled the approximate date of the journal on the back of his namecard.
“I suppose you came back ahead of your family, Miss Parker? I really don’t know who’s in town.”
“Yes; I’m quite alone, Mrs. Burgess. You see,” and Susie tilted her head Susily and spoke directly to Mrs. Burgess, “one never really knows anything about one’s neighbors.”
“Ah—you live close by?” asked Pendleton.
Susie answered with an imperceptible movement of the head:
“Oh, just next door, you know.”