"I think you had better go. It is not a knitting society, as I understand it; and I am sure you can be useful."
"Useful!" echoed Mrs. Reverdy. "It's the last thing I know how to be.
And I don't belong to the society, grandpa."
"I shouldn't like them to think that," said the old gentleman. "You belong to me; and I belong to them, my dear."
"Isn't it dreadful!" said Mrs. Reverdy in a low aside. "Now he's got this in his head—whatever am I going to do?—Suppose I invite them all to Elmfield; how would you like that, sir?" she added aloud.
"Yes, my dear, yes," said the old gentleman, pushing back his chair; for the cup of coffee was the last part of his breakfast; "it would be well done, and I should be glad of it. Ask 'em all."
"You are in for it now, Vevay," said Gertrude, when the ladies were left. "How will you manage?"
"O, I'll give them a grand entertainment and send them away delighted," said Mrs. Reverdy. "You see, grandpa wishes it; and I think it'll be fun."
"Do you suppose Evan really paid attentions to that pretty girl we saw at the blackberrying?"
"I don't know," Mrs. Reverdy answered. "He told me nothing about it. I should think Evan was crazy to do it; but men do crazy things. However, I don't believe it of him, Gerty. What nonsense!"
"I can find out, if she comes," said Miss Masters. "You'll ask her,
Genevieve?"