“Mr. Sylvester Chisholm, editor of the Fernborough Gazette was there and a faithful transcript of my feeble remarks will, no doubt, appear in his paper.”
“Feeble!” said Maude contemptuously. “Have you been doing feeble things since you came back?”
“No, Maude, I have done some very strenuous things, and I shall be glad to get home to my family.”
“To make a happy fireside clime For weans and wife Is the true pathos, and sublime, Of human life.
“But you are not going home,” she continued,--“you are invited to dinner with your respected pa and ma and your two young--”
“And beautiful sisters,” added Quincy with a laugh. “I'll come, but you must play the latest popular songs for me, and Alice will sing 'Sweet, Sweet Home,' and perhaps I can forget the cares of State--until to-morrow, anyway.”
Maude flounced out of the door tossing a kiss from the tips of her fingers, to the astonishment of Sober Harry who had just entered, and who wished, from the bottom of his heart, that the flying salutation had been for him.
The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer did not dine at home that evening. Quincy's mother said that he had gone to Salem but would return later. After dinner the little company of five repaired to the parlour. Maude sang negro melodies despite the protests of her mother, and her sister Florence's assertion that they were only sung at cheap variety shows.
“How do you know that?” cried Maude. “Did Reginald tell you?”
“Oh,” said Maude, tossing her head, “he's Florence's latest. She met him night before last--”
“Maude!” Her sister's voice was full of angry protest. “Don't say another word.”
“Such matters,” said her mother mildly, “are not suitable subjects for general conversation. There is a privacy about them which should be respected.”
“We'll leave Florence out of it, then,” said Maude. “I met him at Mrs. Dulton's reception. His name is Capt. Reginald Hornaby, and he's the fourth son of Sir Wilfred Hornaby, of Hornaby Hook, Hornaby, England--don't you know,” and she winked spitefully at Florence.
“He told me all that himself,” she continued, “so I know it must be so. Won't it be nice to have a place in England where we can make ourselves at home?”
“Aunt Ella will be glad to see you at any time,” remarked Quincy. “Why don't you go back with her? She'd be delighted.”