THE AWKWARD AGE
with a dirty face, and well slapped for it: he has never thought of her in the world."
"How can a person of your acuteness, my dear woman," Mitchy asked, "mention such trifles as having the least to do with the case? How can you possibly have such a fellow about, so beastly good-looking, so infernally well turned out in the way of 'culture,' and so bringing them down, in short, on every side, and expect in the bosom of your family the absence of history of the reigns of the good kings? If you were a girl, wouldn't you turn purple? If I were a girl shouldn't I—unless, as is more likely, I turned green?"
Mrs. Brookenham was deeply affected. "Nanda does turn purple—?"
"The loveliest shade you ever saw. It's too absurd that you haven't noticed."
It was characteristic of Mrs. Brookenham's amiability that, with her sudden sense of the importance of this new light, she should be quite ready to abase herself. "There are so many things in one's life; one follows false scents; one doesn't make out everything at once. If you're right you must help me. We must see more of her."
"But what good will that do me?" Mitchy inquired.
"Don't you care enough for her to want to help her?" Then before he could speak, "Poor little darling dear!" his hostess tenderly ejaculated. "What does she think or dream? Truly she's laying up treasure!"
"Oh, he likes her," said Mitchy. "He likes her in fact extremely."
"Do you mean he has told you so?"
"Oh no—we never mention it! But he likes her," Mr. Mitchett stubbornly repeated. "And he's thoroughly straight."
Mrs. Brookenham, for a moment, turned these things over; after which she came out in a manner that visibly surprised him. "It isn't as if you wished to be nasty
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