Mrs. McMahon felt it incumbent on her to administer a rebuke to the girl.
"What do you care, Sadie, so long as they're Mrs. Hamilton's friends?" And she added majestically, turning to her hostess: "Excuse her, ma'am."
At this public correction, Sadie flushed scarlet, and glanced appealingly toward Mrs. Schmidt.
"What a nerve!" she commented, angrily. Then, she addressed Mrs. McMahon herself. "If you will pardon me, Mrs. McMahon," she said, very haughtily, "I prefer to present my own apologies in individual person." And, finally, she turned to Cicily. "Mrs. Hamilton, if you consider my interrogation regarding the sex of your guests impertinent, my humblest apologies are at your disposal."
"And she didn't choke!" the Irishwoman murmured, admiringly.
Cicily insisted that there was no occasion for apology, and afterward went on to explain something as to the character and aims of the Civitas Society for the Uplift of Women. But here, at once, she found herself beset with unexpected difficulties. Mrs. McMahon drew herself up with all the dignity of her great bulk, and voiced her feeling by the tone in which she asked:
"I would like to know, Mrs. Hamilton, if you think we are subjects for uplifting?"
"Can you beat it!" Sadie cried, in outraged pride.
Cicily hastened to soothe her guests by an explanation that was more ingenious than ingenuous.
"You don't understand," she remonstrated. "This is the club I spoke to you about. I want you to become members of the society. We need you to help in the work."