rom one of the neighbouring houses and her lover.
The next moment he realised that he had heard the intonation of Miss
Wycliffe's voice, or had imagined it. He would doubtless have thought
it mere imagination, some accidental resemblance to which his ear had
given identity, had not Cardington's manner registered a sudden
emotional disturbance. He paused in his narration, like one smitten
with mental atrophy and searching for the word that was about to reach
his lips. His position on the inside of the walk offered a barrier
between Leigh and the retreating couple, and he gave a curious
impression of maintaining that position carefully as they passed the
street. Then he resumed his story with something of accentuated
intensity. Neither made the slightest comment on the incident.
CHAPTER X
MISTRESS AND MAID
"Miss Felicity," said Cardington, standing before her with a humorous
suggestion in his manner of presenting arms to a superior officer, "I
have come to perform what is both a duty and a pleasure; I have come,
in short, to--pay my bet." With these words he carefully laid a box of
candy upon the table.
"You have my sympathy, Mr. Cardington," she returned, "not so much
because you have lost the bet, as because you were under the necessity
of ending your sentence with such an insignificant word. I saw that
you were groping for a polysyllabic finish." She was in the best of
spirits, and prepared for the exchange of quibbles in which they
sometimes indulged.
"But my finish is best expressed by just that abrupt and insignificant
monosyllable!" he cried, his solemnity swept away by a mood of
extravagant banter. "Now, you know, since we have elected a
professional baseball player to the mayor's office, I foresee great
possibilities unfolding in municipal affairs. I rather anticipate that
the city fathers will seek recreation from their arduous labours by
indulging in an occasional game of ball in the park. I hope to have
the pleasure of applauding our respected mayor as he walks up to the
plate as of yore and knocks out a home run. Not a bad idea, bishop, is
it?" For Bishop Wycliffe had entered the room quietly and stood behind
his daughter, listening to the speech with a wide, appreciative smile.
"It is extremely probable," he now answered. "I shall be surprised if
some such innovation is not introduced. And why not? _Tempera
mutantur_, my friend. We have a President who so far forgets the
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