Chapter 15

“Oh, Miss Fanhall!”

“What is it, Mrs. Truscot?”

“That was a great prank of yours last night, my dear. We all enjoyed the joke so much.”

“Prank?”

“Yes, your riding on the ox cart with that old farmer and that young Mr. What’s-his-name, you know. We all thought it delicious. Ah, my dear, after all—don’t be offended—if we had your people’s wealth and position we might do that sort of unconventional thing, too; but, ah, my dear, we can’t, we can’t! Isn’t the young painter a charming man?”

Out on the porch Hollanden was haranguing his friends. He heard a step and glanced over his shoulder to see who was about to interrupt him. He suddenly ceased his oration, and said, “Hello! what’s the matter with Grace?” The heads turned promptly.

As the girl came toward them it could be seen that her cheeks were very pink and her eyes were flashing general wrath and defiance.

The Worcester girls burst into eager interrogation. “Oh, nothing!” she replied at first, but later she added in an undertone, “That wretched Mrs. Truscot——”

“What did she say?” whispered the younger Worcester girl.

“Why, she said—oh, nothing!”

Both Hollanden and Hawker were industriously reflecting.

Later in the morning Hawker said privately to the girl, “I know what Mrs. Truscot talked to you about.”

She turned upon him belligerently. “You do?”