“Edith,” he laughed lightly. “Mother, are you blind? She and Baldy are mad about each other.”
“Of course she isn’t serious. A boy like that.”
“Isn’t she? I’ll say she is.” Evans went charging up the stairs to dress for dinner. “I’ll be down presently.”
“Baldy may be late; we won’t wait for him,” his mother called after him.
The dining-room at Castle Manor had a bare waxed floor, an old drop-leaf table of dark mahogany, deer’s antlers over the mantel, and some candles in sconces.
Old Mary did her best to follow the rather formal service on which Mrs. Follette insisted. The food was simple, but well-cooked, and there was always a soup and a salad.
It was not until they reached the salad course that they heard the sound of Baldy’s car. He burst in at the front door, as if he battered it down, stormed through the hall, and entered the dining-room like a whirlwind.
“Jane’s going to be married,” he cried, “and she’s going to marry Frederick Towne!”
Evans half-rose from his chair. Everything turned black and he sat down. There was a loud roaring in his ears. It was like taking ether—with the darkness and the roaring.
When things cleared he found that neither his mother nor Baldy had noticed his agitation. His mother was asking quick questions. “Who told you? Does Edith know?”