“But,” she exclaimed, “what must you have thought—”
“I thought I had made a lucky escape!” I laughed.
She was proud—proud as an Indian; it was hard for her to make admissions about her husband. But then—we were like two errant school-girls, who had been caught m an escapade! “I don’t know what I’m going to do about him,” she said, with a wry smile. “He really won’t listen—I can’t make any impression on him.”
“Did he guess that you’d come there on purpose?” I asked.
“I told him,” she answered.
“You told him!”
“I’d meant to keep it secret—I wouldn’t have minded telling him a fib about a little thing. But he made it so very serious!”
I could understand that it must have been serious after the telling. I waited for her to add what news she chose.
“It seems,” she said, “that my husband has a cousin, a pupil of Mrs. Frothingham’s. You can imagine!”
“I can imagine Mrs. Frothingham may lose a pupil.”