“We didn't take the 5.40 train,” retorted Elizabeth Talbert, hotly. “It took us. You don't suppose—but I suppose you do, and I suppose I know what the whole family supposes—As if I would do such a dastardly!—As if I didn't clear out on purpose to get away from him—to get out of the whole mix—As if I knew that young one would be aboard that train!”
“But he was aboard. You admit that.”
“Oh yes, he got aboard.”
“Made a pleasant travelling companion, Auntie?”
“I don't know,” said Aunt Elizabeth, shortly. “I didn't have ten words with him. I told him he had put me in a position I should never forgive. Then he told me I had put him in a worse. We quarrelled, and he went into the smoker. At the Grand Central he checked my suitcase and lifted his hat. He did ask if I were going to Mrs. Chataway's. I have never seen him since.”
“Aunt Elizabeth,” I said, sadly, “I am younger than you—”
“Not so very much!” retorted Aunt Elizabeth.
“—and I must speak to you with the respect due my father's sister when I say that the nobility of your conduct on this occasion—a nobility which you will pardon me for suggesting that I didn't altogether count on—is likely to prove the catastrophe of the situation.”
Aunt Elizabeth stared at me with her wet, coquettish eyes. “You're pretty hard on me, Maria,” she said; “you always were.”
“Hurry and dress,” I suggested, soothingly; “there are two gentlemen to see you downstairs.”