This cryptic but human inquiry made Mrs. Prynne laugh a little
hysterically.
"Hasn't she told you? The things she says about Eva Astry, I mean."
Pamela sat still for a moment, gazing intently into her little Dutch
cups, and the softly shaded light of the candelabrum glowed on her
light brown hair, the curve of her white brow, and her rather wide
but pleasant mouth. She was aware that a pause is always significant,
but she felt the cruel necessity of being very guarded. She did not
know how much Lottie had heard and she dared not risk increasing her
knowledge. The situation was so delicate that while Pamela enjoyed its
intricacies, like all social diplomatists, she was deeply alarmed lest
she betray too deep a knowledge.
"I know there are some cruel things said," she risked at last, "but,
of course, I try not to hear them, and--so far--people have been
careful not to speak of them too freely to me."
Mrs. Prynne colored a little. "I didn't intend to repeat it," she said
sharply, "but you know she claims to get all she tells from that French
girl. It seems Mrs. Astry dismissed her, and Mrs. Billop isn't in the
least ashamed to repeat servants' chatter."
"Well, we all know what a discharged servant will do, and,
unfortunately, there are always people who listen to them; it's the
most odious form of gossip too."
"Of course it is, but people do listen--once it's started, and I've
heard it everywhere."
"Doesn't one always hear horrid things floating about, when people are
idle?" Pamela was longing to ask her all about it, to be sure that it
was no worse than she feared, but she had taken high ground and was
trying gallantly to maintain it.
"Yes, when Mrs. Billop is about."
"To tell you the truth I never believe half she says!"
"You're on the safe side," said Dr. Macclesfield, who had entered the
room unperceived. "No, I won't take tea, Pamela, I detest that stuff
of yours; it's too costly. Rachel's the only one who can make tea to
suit me. But you can give me some of that rum that you spoon in at the
last moment, to give a nip, eh? That's enough, now a macaroon. You
were talking scandal; I caught you at it! I wish you women had necks
like cranes; you remember the old monk who said he wished men had 'em,
so their speech, coming up through the many joints of a crane's neck,
might leave malice and foolishness behind, in the filtration plant, so
to speak."
"Can't you perform an operation on Sidney Billop," Pamela asked
maliciously, "and graft a crane's neck on to him?"
The doctor giggled. "Pamela, I'm the worst gossip in the District, and
Sidney's a sort of cousin of yours, isn't he?"
"Oh, I suppose I married Paul, the mahogany sideboard, and the Billops!"
"Get a divorce from the Billops," suggested the doctor.
Pamela laughed a little bitterly. "I ought to hold my tongue, but
Paul's so good-natured, if an Apache Indian wired he was coming to
spend the night, Paul would drive down to meet him and help him unload
his tomahawk."
"Well, Sidney's unloaded his tomahawk," said Dr. Macclesfield
enigmatically.
Pamela glanced at him uneasily. She was not sure that she understood
him but she was certain that all this dove-tailed into Lottie's
previous hints about a scandal. "I believe Sidney's in love," she said
irrelevantly.
"Oh, Lord!" ejaculated Dr. Macclesfield.
"Pamela says such foolish things," Mrs. Prynne drawled, with a little
conscious laugh.
"I didn't mean with you, Lottie dear," Pamela replied sweetly, offering
more sugar for her tea.