“I can’t imagine your being so silly. But the impression is abroad that you’re rather interested in that Harden girl. Ridiculous, of course, at your age! You’d certainly throw your dignity to the winds if you married a girl of Leila’s age, whose people are said to be quite common. They say Dr. Harden used to travel over the country selling patent medicine from a wagon at country fairs and places like that.”
“I question the story. The Doctor’s a very agreeable person, and his wife’s a fine woman. We have had very pleasant neighborly relations. And Millicent is an extraordinary girl—mentally the superior of any girl in town. I’ve been glad of Leila’s intimacy with her; it’s been for Leila’s good.”
“Oh, I dare say they’re all well enough. Of course the marriage would be a big card for the Hardens. You’re a shrewd man, Frank, but it’s just a little too obvious—what you’ve been doing to push those people into our own circle. But the girl’s handsome—there’s no doubt of that.”
“Well, those points are settled, then,” her brother remarked, taking up the ivory paper cutter and slapping his palm with it. Alice was never niggardly with her revelations and he consoled himself with the reflection that she had shown her full hand.
“This other matter,” Mrs. Thornberry continued immediately, “is rather more serious. I came back from California the week after you sailed and I found a good deal of talk going on about Connie.”
“Connie?” Mills repeated and his fingers tightened upon the ivory blade.
“Connie’s not behaving herself as a married woman should. She’s been indulging in a scandalous flirtation—if that’s not too gentle a name for it—with George Whitford.”
“Pshaw, Alice! Whitford’s always run with Shep’s crowd. He’s a sort of fireside pet with all the young married women. George is a fine, manly fellow. I don’t question that he’s been at Shep’s a good deal. Shep’s always liked him particularly. And Connie’s an attractive young woman. Why, George probably makes love to all the women, old and young, he’s thrown with for an hour! You’re borrowing trouble quite unnecessarily, Alice. It’s too bad you have to hear the gossip that’s always going around here; you take it much too seriously.”
“It’s not I who take it seriously; it’s common talk! Shep, poor boy, is so innocent and unsuspecting! George hasn’t a thing to do but fool at his writing. He and Connie have been seen a trifle too often on long excursions to other towns when Shep, no doubt, thought she was golfing. What I’m telling you is gossip, of course; I couldn’t prove anything. But it’s possible sometimes that just a word will save trouble. You must acquit me of any wish to be meddlesome. I like Connie; I’ve always tried to like her for Shep’s sake.”
She was probably not magnifying the extent to which talk about his son’s wife had gone. His old antagonism to Constance, the remembrance of his painful scenes with Shep in his efforts to prevent his marriage, were once more resurgent. Mrs. Thornberry related the episode of the dramatic club play which had, from her story, crystalized and stimulated the tales that had previously been afloat as to Connie’s interest in Whitford. Mills promptly seized upon this to dismiss the whole thing. Things had certainly come to a fine pass when participation in amateur theatricals could give rise to scandal; it merely showed the paucity of substantial material.