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"He's just a week younger, Mrs. Johnson, and I wouldn't tie him for worlds, even if I married him," I said meekly. Somehow I like Mrs. Johnson enough to be meek with her, and it always brings her to a higher point of excitement. "That kid is a born actress," said David in her ear. "Look at her, Miss Pat. Isn't she the picture of an eminent authoress at a club reception?" "I thought as much," said Jen, in an excited tone. Then after a pause, he added: "Battersea, would you like free quarters and plenty of food and drink for a week?".
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"He'll be feeding his eyes on Molly, so he'll not even know he's eating my Kensington almond pudding with Thomas's old port in it," teased Aunt Bettie with a laugh as I went across the street with them. "Why Mrs. Dallas wants Isabella to marry David." Not another word would the major say on the subject at that moment, so Maurice was forced to seek his room in a very unsatisfied frame of mind. However, as he thought, here was one mystery about to be explained, and that was a comfort. As Jen prophesied, David did not return to dinner, and Maurice had a tête-à-tête with his guardian. But they talked of indifferent things, and it was not until they were once more in the smoking-room with cigars and coffee that the major consented to speak on the subject of Mrs. Dallas' strange conduct. "But you don't mean to say that she believes in it!" "Dat nuffin!" said Dido, with a lordly wave of her hand. "I black; you hab de black blood in youse also. I mek you do Obi. Um!".
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