“Lily Deacon is engaged to Mr. Sheridan,” said Jane promptly. Elise stared at her, her round blue eyes wide with amazement.
“How did you know?”
“I put two and two together. Aren’t I clever?”
“No, how did you guess, Janey? Lily hasn’t told anyone but me.”
“Well, I knew it was going to happen, and I knew that you’d been up to see Lily this afternoon, and I guessed the rest. Isn’t it nice, though!” cried Jane, clapping her hands. “And you know I’m really responsible for it.”
“You!” hooted Carl derisively.
“Yes, me. When did it happen, Elise, and when are they going to be married? I do so love a wedding, and there hasn’t been one here for ages. Do you suppose she’ll wear a veil?”
Elise, who under her placid exterior had the most romantic of souls, sat down to recount all the details that she had gleaned from her best friend.
“And she’s going to live in that lovely house, and she’ll travel, and she—goodness, do you suppose Paul has burned up another batch of cakes?” she broke off short in her rhapsody over Lily’s prospects to sniff the air.
“Don’t you smell smoke? I do hope he hasn’t had another disaster—he’s been getting along so well. Well, anyway—where was I?”