“So it is Harry West, eh? Well, he’s steady enough. You could do much worse. You must bring him to see me one evening. You are a good girl, Tilly, and there are things I will have to say to him. Were Mr. and Miss Borradale at the dance?”

“Yes, ma’am. And the doctor, and Barry Elson, and oh! almost everyone, ma’am.”

“How was Barry Elson?”

“He was all right, ma’am. He could dance.”

“He couldn’t dance yesterday afternoon, anyway. Who did he dance with… mostly?”

“Mabel Storrie. He took her home. They walked home. Tom Storrie drove her in, but when the dance broke up he and the truck couldn’t be found.”

“So Barry and Mabel have made up their quarrel?”

“Yes, ma’am, I think so.”

“You only think so!” sharply exclaimed the old woman.

“Well, ma’am, Barry Elson was very attentive to Mabel all last evening, but she seemed to be keeping back. I don’t blame her. Barry had no right to go and getdrunk yesterday afternoon. I… I don’t think I’d forgive Harry in a hurry if he went and got drunk just because I gave him a bit of my mind.”

“A wise woman never gives bits of her mind to a man before she’s married to him,” Mrs. Nelson remarked severely. “And what happened to young Tom Storrie and the truck?”

“I think he took Annie Myers home and didn’t trouble about his sister, ma’am. Brothers aren’t very considerate.”

Mrs. Nelson was again devoting attention to her breakfast, and the girl continued to stand patiently to await dismissal.

“What dress did you wear?” was the next question.

“I wore my black crepe de Chine, ma’am.”

“Hum! You were wise there, my girl. Colours don’t suit you. How was Mabel dressed?”

“Oh, she wore blueninon, and her shoes were of blue satin. She looked just lovely, ma’am. I wish-I wish-”