" (She did very much. Her one and only object in
life seemed to be to lade her own mansion with ugly and expensive
upholstery.) "Now, what's the matter, Miss Peters? Why, you are all on
wires. Where _are_ you off to now?"
"I see the Rector," responded Miss Peters. "I'll run and ask him when he
expects Mrs. Bertram. I'll be back presently with the news."
The little lady tripped away, forcing her slim form through the
ever-increasing crowd. The rector was walking about with a very favorite
small parishioner seated on his shoulder.
"Mr. Ingram," piped Miss Peters. "Don't you think Mrs. Bertram might
favor us with her presence by now? We have all been looking for her.
It's past five o'clock, and--"
There was a hush, a pause. At that moment Mrs. Bertram was sailing into
the room. Miss Peters' exalted tones reached her ears. She shuddered,
turned pale, and also turned her back on the eager little spinster.
Nobody quite knew how it was managed, but Mrs. Bertram was introduced to
very few of the Northbury folk. They all wanted to know her; they talked
about her, and came in her way, and stared at her whenever they could.
There was an expectant hush when she and the Rector were seen
approaching any special group.
"I do declare it's the Grays she's going to patronize," one jealous
matron said.
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