“Oh, it’s not only Edward—everybody has noticed how changed he is. Have you got anything to eat, Liz? Have some of the iced cake; it’s from a recipe of Miss Dobell’s and it’s quite nice. What was I saying? Oh, about David—well, it’s true, Liz—Mrs. Havergill told Markham; now, Liz, what’s the sense of your looking at me like that? Of course I shouldn’t dream of talking to an ordinary servant, but considering Markham has known us since we were about two—Markham takes an interest, a real interest, and when Mrs. Havergill told her that she was afraid David was taking a great deal more than was good for him, and she wished his friends could stop it, why, Markham naturally told me. She felt it her duty. I expect she thought I might have an influence—as I hope I have. That’s why I encourage David to come here. I think it’s so good for him. I think it makes such a difference to young men if they have a nice home to come to, and it’s very good for them to see married people fond of each other, and happy together, like Edward and I are. Don’t you think so?”
“I don’t know, Molly,” said Elizabeth. “Are people talking about David?”
“Yes, they are. Of course I haven’t said a word, but people are noticing how different he is. I don’t see how they can help it, and yesterday when I was having tea with Mrs. Codrington, Miss Dobell began to hint all sorts of things, and there was quite a scene. You know how devoted Mrs. Codrington is! She really quite frightened poor little Miss Hester. I can tell you, I was glad that I hadn’t said anything. Mrs. Codrington always frightens me. She looks so large, and she speaks so loud. I was quite glad to get away.”
“I like Mrs. Codrington,” said Elizabeth.
“Oh, well, so do I. But I like her better when she’s not angry. Oh, by the way, Liz, talking of David, do you know that I met Katie Ellerton yesterday, and—how long is it since Dr. Ellerton died?”
“More than two years.”
“Well, she has gone quite out of mourning. You know how she went on at first—she was going to wear weeds always, and never change anything, and as to ever going into colours again, she couldn’t imagine how any one could do it! And I met her out yesterday in quite a bright blue coat and skirt. What do you think of that?”
“Oh, Molly, you’ve been going out to too many tea-parties! Why shouldn’t poor Katie go out of mourning? I think it’s very sensible of her. I have always been so sorry for her.”
Mary assumed an air of lofty virtue. “I used to be. But now, I don’t approve of her at all. She’s just doing her very best to catch David Blake. Every one can see it. If that wretched little Ronnie has so much as a thorn in his finger, she sends for David. She’s making herself the laughing-stock of the place. I think it’s simply horrid. I don’t approve of second marriages at all. I never do see how any really nice-minded woman can marry again. And it’s not only the marrying, but to run after a man, like that—it’s quite dreadful! I am sure David would be most unhappy if he married her. It would be a dreadfully bad thing for him.”
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair.