“But I am not Mrs. Heywood. I cannot boast of such a handsome husband!”
“Oh, can’t you, by Jove!” said Mr. Atkinson Brown, rather nettled by his wife’s candor.
“Oh, I beg pardon,” said Mr. Hargreaves. “Where is Mrs. Heywood?”
“Yes, where is Mrs. Heywood?” said his wife.
Herbert looked wildly at his mother.
“Where is she, mother? Do tell her to hurry up.
“Yes, dear,” said Mrs. Heywood meekly. She moved uncertainly toward the bedroom door, and then hesitated: “Perhaps she will not be very long now.”
“The fact is,” said Herbert desperately, “she is not very well.”
Mrs. Atkinson Brown was astounded.
“But you said she was perfectly well!”