“I’m afraid Mrs. Mount suspects,” said Mumsie.
“Sort of trained knowledge, as it were. Yes, I suppose a tavern-keeper’s daughter ought to be able to distinguish between a case of acute intoxication and a fainting fit.” His voice was sarcastic.
With that our luncheon came to an end.
I felt relieved when the discussion of the affair at lunch, which as I knew, would prove a topic at dinner, was ended. I made a remark about the Vicar of Wakefield.
I was still curious to know why Mr. Bang had given the copy of it to me. What was the idea behind the offering?
“Have you read the copy Jack gave you?” Uncle asked.
“Only a little here and there to see how much of the story comes back to me.”
“I always think the Vicar of Wakefield such a delightful story,” and Sister Mary smiled sweetly upon me.
“That is true,” said Uncle, “but the feature of the tale is that the social ‘bug’ seems to have been active in Goldsmith’s time too, and perhaps was then just as prevalent as it is to-day. Don’t you think, Elsie, you can find a suspicion of very fine satire here and there?”
“Really, Uncle, I read the story so long ago, I have quite forgotten the impression it made on me. I was so young and now I have only glanced through it and read the story told by George, the vicar’s son.”