“He hardly said anything. In fact, he didn’t tell me even that. Mr. Mayo, the manager, saw him as we were going out and I heard him call him ‘Captain’!”
“Perhaps it’s a mistake, anyhow,” suggested Maud.
“No, it isn’t. I stopped to find out—about the next concert, I mean—and Mr. Mayo told me he had greatly distinguished himself, and I’m not a bit surprised either.” And Joan looked at her mother and her sister with an air of saying, “What did I tell you?”
“Well, he’s sure to come and see us and tell us all about it,” Mrs. Dobson remarked complacently.
“I’m not so sure of that!” Joan spoke sharply.
“Nonsense, dear! he’ll be only too pleased to, especially if we ask him—and now it’s war-time I think we might. Bygones are bygones.”
Joan sighed deeply. It was evident she meant her mother to notice it.
“Surely you’ve got over that little affair? You didn’t seem to mind at the time. Did you now, dear?”
“What could I do with you all against me?” Joan’s face wore an expression of aggrieved reminiscence.
“We thought it for your good, Joan. He was only a music-teacher and had no means at all.”