"That won't do, Di," said Ina. "You can't deceive mamma and don't you try!" Her voice trembled, she was frantic with loving and authentic anxiety, but she was without power, she overshadowed the real gravity of the moment by her indignation.
"Mrs. Deacon----" began Bobby, and stood up, very straight and manly before them all.
But Dwight intervened, Dwight, the father, the master of his house. Here was something requiring him to act. So the father set his face like a mask and brought down his hand on the rail of the porch. It was as if the sound shattered a thousand filaments—where?
"Diana!" his voice was terrible, demanded a response, ravened among them.
"Yes, papa," said Di, very small.
"Answer your mother. Answer me. Is there anything to this absurd tale?"
"No, papa," said Di, trembling.
"Nothing whatever?"
"Nothing whatever."
"Can you imagine how such a ridiculous report started?"