“Why, is she in the city?”
“If she isn't, dear madam,” I replied, “she ought to be. She left Eastridge last evening for parts unknown, and should have got here by midnight.” Oh, how glad I was to let them both in as far as I possibly could! And clearly now I had let Mrs. Chataway, if such she was, in very far indeed.
She stared, but then airily considered. “Oh, well—I guess she's somewheres.”
“I guess she is!” I replied.
“She hasn't got here yet—she has so many friends in the city. But she always wants US, and when she does come—!” With which my friend, now so far relieved and agreeably smiling, rubbed together conspicuously the pair of plump subjects of her “cure.”
“You feel then,” I inquired, “that she will come?”
“Oh, I guess she'll be round this afternoon. We wouldn't forgive her
