I won't
tell about the girl you carried out of church in your arms."
More and more disconcerted and self-conscious, Maurice could only
stammer that Mrs. Wilson flattered him if she supposed that Miss
Morison would tolerate any love-making on his part.
"You are adorable when you blush like that," was the reply which he
got. "I have almost a mind to set you to make love to me. However, that
wouldn't be fair. I will take it out in seeing you and her. You must
surely come down."
Maurice regarded the invitation as merely part of Mrs. Wilson's
badinage, but in due time it was formally repeated by note. He opened
the letter at the breakfast table, and was advised by his cousin to
accept.
"Mrs. Wilson," she commented, "is like a banjo, more exciting than
refined, but she isn't bad-hearted. She has the old Boston blood and
traditions behind her."
"They are sometimes rather far behind," interpolated Mr. Staggchase
dryly. "She wasn't a Beauchester, you know. However, she has her
ancestors safe in their graves so that they can't escape her."
Mrs. Staggchase smiled good-naturedly at the little fling at her own
family pretensions.
Pages:
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537