and almost curt reply to the colonel's greeting. There was no mistaking its import. It spoke so plainly of annoyance that even the easy affability of the old man was disturbed. He looked taken aback, and for a moment evidently did not know what to say. Tod looked from one man to the other, grinning at the embarrassment of a situation he did not understand. For a moment there was a most disagreeable pause. Letitia knew that recognition would betray the fact that she had met Viola, but the mortification of the girl's position made her bold.
"How do you do, Miss Reed?" she said; and then, as a brilliant afterthought, "Do you like music?"
"Very much," Viola managed to answer; "and it was good, was n't it?"
"It was A1," said Tod, not by any means intending to be left out; "and that prima donna, ain't she a peach?"
"Mme. Foedor is a lovely Gilda. She looks so young. Most of them are too old and matronly," continued Letitia, fastening the clasps of her cloak, and wondering if this exceedingly uncomfortable conversation was to be prolonged.
Viola's reply put an end to her uneasiness:
"Lovely! I never saw her before, or the opera, either. But we must go. Father, we 'll miss the car if we don't hurry. Good night. Good night, Mr. Gault."
