“It was a green frock,” said Mrs. Loring thoughtlessly; then turned
quite pink. It was a pretty situation. Loring might have treasured that
blush. I was avenged.
Millicent Dixon came to the rescue.
“Carrie, dear,” she said, “you are the only one who has any influence
over that irrepressible man. Do gag him for a few minutes;” and passed
over a plate of gaufrettes, which Carrie brought to me.
I held the plate to Mrs. Loring Chatterton, who, a reminiscence of fun
still in her eyes, accepted the peace-offering with a warning shake of
her head.
“Mr. Butterfield,” she said, “you never were anything but mischievous,
and it’s my opinion you never will be. Oh, I wish I could get you off my
hands. There are plenty of nice girls. Look at Millie there,” she
whispered.
“Mrs. Loring,” I replied, “once upon a time there was a fox, who was
caught in a trap, and had his tail cut off. After that----”
“Ah well, I suppose you know your own mind. But, Mr. Butterfield”--she
leaned over, and spoke quite low--“I believe you make out your young
days--and Loring’s--to have been much worse than they were. Do you not,
now?”
Mrs. Loring had a little beauty-spot on her conscience which she thought
was a stain.