WHITEWASH
"The estate is to be settled now, I think," said Philippa. "Bob is of age, if I'm not mistaken."
"She came home on that account," Morton put in.
Mrs. Ford was benign as she rose to her feet. "Well, Philippa, dear, don't forget you must dress for the Bentley's dinner. You must excuse my rudeness, Mr. Conway, but she is such a scatterbrained girl that if she is having an interesting conversation she forgets her engagements, and is known as the late Miss Ford."
Morton blushed and glanced at his watch. "I am the one to beg indulgence; it's shockingly late,—I—"
Mrs. Ford smiled almost affectionately. "My dear man, don't apologize for paying us such a nice indirect compliment. Philippa, dear, you must invite Mr. Conway when we ask Victoria and Mrs. Testly Durham to dinner. You'll be sure to come, won't you?"
Morton muttered his thanks and took his leave.
As the street door closed the aunt and niece faced each other.
