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Updated: June 4, 2025
"Your aunt Miss Cahoon here had money in her own right." "SHE had money and my mother had not. Yet both were Captain Cahoon's daughters. How did that happen?" It seemed to me that it was Hephzy's time to play the target. I turned to her. "Miss Cahoon will probably answer that herself," I observed, maliciously. Hephzibah appeared more embarrassed than I.
He yells and drawls and whines through his nose and wears clothes which would make an American cry. That last scene was supposed to be a reception and he wore an outing suit and no waistcoat. Do they suppose such a fellow would be tolerated in respectable society in the United States?" And now it was Hephzy's turn to be philosophical.
She took the chair by the window and we chatted together, of my newly-gained strength, of Hephzy's adventures as a pathfinder in Paris, of the weather, of a dozen inconsequential things. I found it difficult to sustain my part in the conversation. There was so much of real importance which I wanted to say.
I had expected her to see him on every street corner, to be brought face to face with unsuspecting young Englishmen and made to ask ridiculous questions which might lead to our being taken in charge as a pair of demented foreigners. But my forebodings were not realized. London was so huge and the crowds so great that even Hephzy's courage faltered.
And, with the arrival of each new circular or booklet, she picked out, as she had just done, the particular tours she would go on when her "some day" came. It was funny, this queer habit of hers, but not half as funny as the thought of her really going would have been. I would have as soon thought of our front door leaving home and starting on its travels as of Hephzy's doing it.
"Hephzy," said I, "you will go shopping again to-morrow morning and I'll go with you." Go we did, and we bought the coat and the hat and the suit and various other things. With each purchase Hephzy's groans and protests at my reckless extravagance grew louder. At last I had an inspiration.
If Kent has his evening togs and you have the black silk you'll pass muster. You'll have a gorgeous time. I only wish I was going with you." He repeated the wish several times during the afternoon. He insisted on taking us to a matinee and Hephzy's comments on the performance seemed to amuse him hugely. It had been eleven years, so she said, since she went to the theater.
I had forgotten Hephzy's "fib" concerning my going away. Fortunately he did not wait for an answer. "Did Frances did Miss Morley return with you?" he asked eagerly. "No," said I. His smile vanished. "Oh!" he said, soberly. "She is still in London, then?" "I I presume she is." "You presume ? Why, I say! don't you know?" "I am not sure."
And when we came in sight of the Channel, it was thickly sprinkled with whitecaps from beach to horizon. "I imagine we shall have a rather rough passage, Hephzy," said I. Hephzy's attention was otherwise engaged. "Why do they call a hill a 'down' over here?" she asked. "I should think an 'up' would be better. What did you say, Hosy? A rough passage? I guess that won't bother you and me much.
"We want you to come with us," I said, earnestly. "We want you. Hephzy " "Oh, don't, don't, don't! Why will you persist? Can't you understand that you hurt me? I am trying to believe I have some self-respect left, even after all that has happened. And you What CAN you think of me! No, I tell you! "But for Hephzy's sake. She is your only relative." She looked at me oddly.
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