Hilda: A Story of Calcutta

by Sara Jeannette Duncan

"Bless me, yes. What Archdeacon has dear men friends! And lesquelles pense-tu, mon Dieu!"

"Lesquelles?"

"Mrs. Jack Forrester, Mrs. Fitz—what you may call him up on the frontier, the Brigadier gentleman—Lady Dolly!"

"You were well chaperoned."

"And—my dear—he didn't ask a single Sister!" Hilda turned upon her a face which appeared still to glow with the stimulus of the Archdiaconal function. "And—it was wicked considering the occasion—I dropped the character. I let myself out!"

"You didn't shock the Archdeacon?"

"Not in the least. But, my dear love, did you ever permit yourself the reflection that the Venerable Gambell is a bachelor?"

"Hilda, you shall not! We all love him—you shall not lead him astray!"

"You would not think of—the altar—?"

Miss Livingstone's pale small smile fell like a snow-flake upon Hilda's mood and was swallowed up. "You are very preposterous," she said. "Go on. You always amuse one." Then as if Hilda's going on were precisely the thing she could not quite endure, she said quickly, "The Coromandel is telegraphed from Colombo to-day."