I don't remember her
words, she uses so many, but she was trying to hint that poor Dicky was
an admirer of _yours_, dearest."
"I fancy she succeeded--as far as that goes," I remarked.
"Well, yes, she made me understand her. So I felt obliged to tell her
that, though Dicky was a lovely fellow and we were all very fond of him,
anything of _that_ kind was out of the question."
"And what," I asked, "was her reply to that?"
"She seemed to think I was prevaricating. She said she knew what a
mother's hopes and fears were. They seem to take a very low view," added
momma austerely, "of friendship between a young man and a young woman in
England!"
"I should think so!" said I absent-mindedly. "Dicky hasn't made love to
me for three years."
"_What!_"
"Nothing, momma, dear," I replied kindly. "Only I wouldn't contradict
Mrs. Portheris again upon that point, if I were you. She will think it
so improper if Dicky _isn't_ my admirer, don't you see?"
But Mrs. Portheris's desire to join our party stood revealed. Her
constant chaperonage of Dicky was getting a little trying, and she
wanted me to relieve her.
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