When he came now, with his thoughts clinging to Jessie, 'Manda Grier
hardly gave him time for the decencies of greeting. She was in a
high nervous exaltation, and Statira looked as if she had been
crying.
"What's become o' them art-students you used to have 't the St.
Albans?" she began, her whopper-jaw twitching with excitement, and
her eyes glaring vindictively upon Lemuel.
He had sat down near Statira on the lounge, but she drew a little
away from him in a provisional fashion, as if she would first see
what came of 'Manda Grier's inquisition.
"Art-students?" he repeated aimlessly while he felt his colour go.
"Yes!" she snapped. "Them girls 't used to be 't the St. Albans, 't
you thought so wonderful!"
"I didn't know I thought they were very wonderful!"
"Can't you answer a civil question?" she demanded, raising her
voice.
"I haven't heard any," said Lemuel, with sullen scorn.
"Oh! Well!" she sneered. "I forgot that you've b'en used to goin'
with such fine folks that you can't bear to be spoken to in plain
English."
"'Manda!" began Statira, with an incipient whimper.
"You be still, S'tira Dudley! Mr. Barker," said the poor foolish
thing in the mincing falsetto which she thought so cutting, "have
you any idea what's become of your young lady artist friends,--them
that took your portrait as a Roman youth, you know?"
Lemuel made no answer whatever for a time.
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