Mr. Witt's Widow Part 22

"Pheugh!" said he, "I've done it now--and what an infernal shame it is!"

CHAPTER XII.

NOT BEFORE THOSE GIRLS!

It is a notorious fact that men of all ages and conditions quarrel, and quarrel sometimes with violence. Women also, of a low social grade, are not strangers to discord, and the pen of satire has not spared the tiffs and wrangles that arise between elderly ladies of irreproachable position, and between young ladies of possibly not irreproachable morals. It is harder to believe, harder especially for young men whose beards are yet soft upon their chins, that graceful gentle girlhood quarrels too. n.o.body would believe it, if there were not sisters in the world; but, unhappily, in spite of the natural tendency to suppose that all attributes distinctively earthy are confined to his own sisters, and have no place in the sisters of his friends, a man of reflection, checking his observations in the various methods suggested by logicians, is forced to conclude that here is another instance of the old truth, that a thing is not to be considered non-existent merely because it is not visible to a person who is not meant to see it. This much apology for the incident which follows is felt to be necessary in the interest of the narrator's reputation for realism.

The fact is that there had been what reporters call a "scene" at Mrs.

Pocklington's. It so fell out that Isabel Bourne, accompanied by Maud Neston, called on Laura to receive congratulations. Laura did her duty, felicitated her friend on Tommy in possession and Tommy's t.i.tle in reversion, and loyally suppressed her personal opinion on the part these two factors had respectively played in producing the announced result.

Her forbearance was ill-requited; for Maud, by way of clinching the matter and conclusively demonstrating the satisfactory position of affairs, must needs remark, "And what a lesson it will be for George!"

Laura said nothing.

"Oh, you mustn't say that, dear," objected Isabel. "It's really not right."

"I shall say it," said Maud; "it's so exactly what he deserves, and I know he feels it himself."

"Did he tell you so?" asked Laura, pausing in the act of pouring out tea.

Maud laughed.

"Hardly, dear. Besides, we are not on speaking terms. But Gerald and Mr.

Myles both said so."

"Gerald and Mr. Myles!" said Laura.

"Please, don't talk about it," interposed Isabel. "What has happened made no difference."

"Why, Isabel, you couldn't have him after----"

"No," said Isabel; "but perhaps, Maud, I shouldn't have had him before."

"Of course you wouldn't, dear. You saw his true character."

"You never actually refused him, did you?" inquired Laura.

"No, not exactly."

"Then what did you say?"

"What did I say?"

"Yes, when he asked you, you know," said Laura, with a little smile.

Isabel looked at her suspiciously. "He never did actually ask me," she said, with dignity.

"Oh! I thought you implied----"

"But, of course, she knew he wanted to," Maud put in. "Didn't you, dear?"

"Well, I thought so," said Isabel, modestly.

"Yes, I know you thought so," said Laura. "Indeed, everybody saw that.

Was it very hard to prevent him?"

Isabel's colour rose. "I don't know what you mean, Laura," she said.

Laura smiled with an unpleasantness that was quite a victory over nature. "Men sometimes fancy," she remarked, "that girls are rather in a hurry to think they want to propose."

"Laura!" exclaimed Maud.

"They even say that the wish is father to the thought," continued Laura, still smiling, but now a little tremulously.

Isabel grew more flushed. "I don't understand you. One would think you meant that I had run after him."

Laura remained silent.

"Everybody knows he was in love with Isabel for years," said Maud, indignantly.

"He was very patient," said Laura.

Isabel rose. "I shall not stay here to be insulted. It's quite obvious, Laura, why you say such things."

"I don't say anything. Only----"

"Well?"

"The next time, you might mention that among the reasons why you refused Mr. Neston was, that he never asked you."

"I see what it is," said Isabel. "Don't you, Maud?"

"Yes," said Maud.

"What is it?" demanded Laura.

"Oh, nothing. Only, I hope--I wish you joy of him."

"If you don't mind a slanderer," added Maud.

"It's not true!" said Laura. "How dare you say it?"

"Take care, dear, that he doesn't fancy you're in a hurry---- What was your phrase?" said Isabel.

"It's perfectly shameful," said Maud.