Peggy looked at him gratefully. “You’re very comforting,” she said.
“We must knit him some socks,” observed Mrs. Conover. “I hear those supplied to the army are very rough and ready.”
“My dear,” smiled the Dean, “Marmaduke’s considerable income does not cease because his pay in the army is one and twopence a day; and I should think he would have the sense to provide himself with adequate underclothing. Also, judging from the account of your shopping orgy in London, he has already laid in a stock that would last out several Antarctic winters.”
The Dean tapped his egg gently.
“Then what can we do for the poor boy?” asked his wife.
The Dean scooped the top of his egg off with a vicious thrust.
“We can cut out slanderous tongues,” said he.
There had been much calumniating cackle in the little town; nay, more: cackle is of geese; there had been venom of the snakiest kind. The Deanery, father and mother and daughter, each in their several ways, had suffered greatly. It is hard to stand up against poisoned ridicule.
“My dear,” continued the Dean, “it will be our business to smite the Philistines, hip and thigh. The reasons which guided Marmaduke in the resignation of his commission are the concern of nobody. The fact remains that Mr. Marmaduke Trevor resigned his commission in order to——”
Peggy interrupted with a smile. “‘In order to’—isn’t that a bit Jesuitical, daddy?”