"Everett," she said, as coldly as he had spoken and more incisively, "you exhibit great skill in evasion. I wish that you would use your skill to better advantage. I have no reason to think that there have been any words of yours with which I could find fault, although I do not know what you have said. But Sally could be trusted to take care of that. It is your manner."
Everett laughed. "But, my dear mother!" he protested, "I can't help my manner. As well find fault with the color of my eyes or—"
His mother interrupted him. "You can help it. It is of no use to pretend that you don't know what I mean. You have wit enough."
"Thank you."
"And your manner is positively insulting. You have let even me see that. Any woman would resent it, but she wouldn't speak of it. She couldn't. Don't compel me to specify more particularly. You put Sally in a very hard position, Everett, and in our own house, too. You ought to have more pride, to say the least; the very least."
Everett's color had been rising, too, as his mother spoke. "I am obliged for your high opinion. May I ask what you fear as the consequence of my insulting manner?"
"You know as well as I," Mrs. Morton answered; "but I will tell you, if you wish. Sally will go, of course, and will think as badly of us as we deserve."
"That," Everett replied slowly, "could perhaps be borne with equanimity if she takes Doctor Sanderson with her."
Mrs. Morton laughed suddenly. "Oh," she exclaimed, "so that is it! I must confess that that had not occurred to me. Now, go along, Everett, and for mercy's sake, be decent."
Everett's color was still high, but if he felt any embarrassment he succeeded in concealing it under his manner, of which his mother seemed to have so high an opinion.