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"Woman," cried Jen, with energy, "no one but you could manufacture the poison with which the devil-stick was filled." "Calm down, Miss Pat," she said, with her hand on the knob. "I'm going to corral a few of the elect and put it to them. Brace up and look pleasant by the time I get back." "Not Dido. Oh!" cried Isabella, in a tone of anguish, "it was my mother.".
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Of course this was mere raving on the part of Jen, who had no reason to connect either woman with the crime; but the poor man was beside himself with grief at the loss of Maurice, and hardly knew what he was saying. Being in this frame of mind he was by no means pleased when shortly after the delivery of Mrs. Dallas' message Dido made her appearance with a request for a personal interview. They paced for a minute or two in silence, and then Patricia gave a little sigh. "Mary, I wish to speak to you in the house," and then walked back through the front door without even looking in Judge Wade's direction, though he had waved his hat with one of his mother's own smiles when he had seen her before I did. One of my most impossible habits is, when there is nothing else to do I laugh. I did it then, and it saved the day, for we both laughed into each other's eyes, and, before we realised it, we were within whispering distance. "Do you really want to go?" asked Patricia, beaming. "The modeling room's open, and you can always see the antique.".
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