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Updated: August 14, 2024
The front door had been left ajar, and, seeing the Berthelins' monogrammed car outside, she had come in. The oratress turned and stared. "That's a lie," said Mayme McCartney steadily. "I'm as straight a girl as your own daughter. Ask him." She pointed to the stricken David. Pointing may not be ladylike, but it can be extremely effective. David's head dropped into his hands. "Oh, Ma!" he groaned.
She cast a malignant glance, not at Muriel, but straight at Marjorie Dean. "Oh," gasped Muriel and Marjorie in united consternation. "That's the time you did it, Muriel," muttered Jerry Macy. "I always told you that you ought to be an orator or an oratress or something. Your voice carries a good deal farther than it ought to. Only Miss Merton didn't think it was you who made those smart remarks.
Farrinder they lingered upon the serene solidity of the great oratress. It was easy to see that the girl admired this beneficent woman, and felt it a privilege to be near her.
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