"Oh, oh!" said Pen, "how horrible of them!"
She rushed at the bell, and when the servant came she commanded the instant appearance of the baby and the nurse.
"You know they said you married Timothy Bunting," said Bob.
Penelope flushed crimson.
"It was wicked of them."
"That beast Weekes told granny you had. She said she knew it. That's how I had tea with Mr. Bunting at Oxford, after he'd chucked Plant and Gordon down-stairs. They were sick. Oh, oh! is this the kid?"
Pen took the precious infant in her arms, and told the nurse she might go and have tea. When she had disappeared, Pen burst into tears.
"He's—he's all I've got," she said, sobbing.
Bob started.
"I say, what do you mean? You don't mean you aren't married at all?"