“The day before Intercession Day, as I was coming back from school.”
“It is quite true,” said Gram. “Miss Winge had dropped her paint-box in the street, and I helped her to pick the things up.”
“A little adventure, I see, which you have not confessed to your wife,” said Mrs. Gram, laughing. “I had no idea you knew each other before.”
Gram laughed too: “Miss Winge did not recognize me. It was not very flattering to me—but I did not wish to remind her. Did you not suspect when you saw me that I was the kind old gentleman who had helped you?”
“I was not sure,” said Jenny feebly, her face turning purple. “I did not think you recognized me.” She tried to smile, but she was painfully conscious of her blushing and unsteady voice.
“It was an adventure, indeed,” said Mrs. Gram. “A most peculiar coincidence.”
“Have I said something wrong again?” asked Aagot when they went into the drawing-room after supper. Mr. Gram had retired to his study and Mrs. Gram had gone into the kitchen. “It is detestable in this house. You never know when there’s going to be an explosion. Please explain. I don’t understand anything.”
“Mind your own business,” said Helge angrily.
“All right, all right—don’t bite me! Is Aunt Rebecca jealous of Miss Winge now?”
“You are the most tactless woman....”