Mrs. Harrison's face grew more and more flushed. The gentlemanly butler removed the soup and brought on whitefish nicely browned and swimming in butter.
"It's a queer household," remarked Miss Abercrombie, with an air of hinting at unspeakable things and feeling her way cautiously toward a letting down of all bars. Undoubtedly it was unfortunate that they had disputed the position of "oldest friend." In a way it tied both their hands.
"It has always been queer," replied the hostess. "Even since the house was built."
Again a pregnant silence, and then Miss Abercrombie with another unwilled and obscene wink added, "I must say I can't understand Irene's behavior." About this effort, there was something oblique and yet effective. It marked another step.
"Or Lily's," rejoined Mrs. Harrison, taking a third step.
"They say," said Miss Abercrombie, pulling fishbones from her mouth, "that there is a common mill worker who is very attentive to Irene. Surely she can't be considering marriage with him."
"No, from what I hear, she isn't," observed Mrs. Harrison. After this dark hint she paused for a moment tottering upon the edge of new revelations with the air of a swimmer about to dive into cold water. At last she plunged.
"They say," she murmured in a lowered voice, "that there is more between them than most people guess . . . more than is proper."
Miss Abercrombie leaned forward. "You know," she said, "that's funny. I've heard the same thing."
"Well, I heard it from Thomas, the coachman. Of course, I reproved him for even hinting at such things. I must say he only hinted . . . very delicately. He was discreet. If I hadn't guessed there was something of the sort going on, I should never have known what he was driving at."
Miss Abercrombie bridled and leaned back for the butler te remove her fish plate. "Imagine!" she said, "Imagine a child of yours being the subject of gossip among servants!"
Her hostess gave a wicked chuckle. "You've forgotten John Shane. When he was alive, his behavior was the talk of
