You see, mother knows a lot about her family, and it's very good; she's
part Polish and part English, and her name's Ludowika. She's ages
younger than her husband.
"Myrtle doesn't like her,--" she stopped midway in her torrent of
information. "I came in to talk to you about Myrtle," she went on in a
different voice; "that is, partly about Myrtle, but more of myself and
of--"
"How long are the others going to stay?" he cut in heedlessly.
"I don't know," she again repressed her own desire; "perhaps they will
have to go back to Annapolis--don't ask me why--but they hope to sail
from Philadelphia in a week or so. She has marvellous clothes, and I
asked her if she would send me some babies from London. You know what
they are, Howat--little wooden dolls to show off the fashion; but she
made a harrowing joke, right in front of father and Mrs. Forsythe. The
things she says are just beyond description; it seems that it's all
right to talk anyway now if you call it classic. And she has fans with
pictures and rhymes on, honestly--" words apparently failed her.
Howat laughed. "Little Innocence," he said. He fell silent, thinking of
their mother. The court, he knew, had been her right, too, by birth; and
he wondered if, with the reminder of Mrs.
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