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"I also have the honour to inform you that the Wilcoxes are bored with us. I didn't tell you at the time it might have made you angry, and you had enough to worry you but I wrote a letter to Mrs. W, and apologised for the trouble that Helen had given them. She didn't answer it." "How very rude!" "I wonder. Or was it sensible?" "No, Margaret, most rude."
"I suppose you are letting it, though." "The house is dead," said Margaret, with a frown. "Why worry on about it?" "But I am interested. You talk as if I had lost all my interest in life. I am still Helen, I hope. Now this hasn't the feel of a dead house. The hall seems more alive even than in the old days, when it held the Wilcoxes' own things." "Interested, are you?
Meanwhile, she could take an interest in the survivors. In spite of her Christmas duties, in spite of her brother, the Wilcoxes continued to play a considerable part in her thoughts. She had seen so much of them in the final week.
I hate I suppose I oughtn't to say that but the Wilcoxes are on the wrong tack surely. Or perhaps it isn't their fault. Perhaps the little thing that says 'I' is missing out of the middle of their heads, and then it's a waste of time to blame them.
"Oh, yes! the Fergusons, and the Wilcoxes, and the Lennoxes, will all call; and we shall have picnics, and lawn teas, and musicals, and parties." "Yes, yes, I see," said John. "Gracie, isn't she a dear little thing? Didn't she look cunning in that white wrapper this morning? How do women do those things, I wonder?" said John. "Don't you think her manners are lovely?"
"Oh, but Helen isn't a girl with no interests," she explained. "She has plenty of other things and other people to think about. She made a false start with the Wilcoxes, and she'll be as willing as we are to have nothing more to do with them." "For a clever girl, dear, how very oddly you do talk. Helen'll HAVE to have something more to do with them, now that they 're all opposite.
"But, Margaret dear, I mean we mustn't be unpractical now that we've come to facts. It is too sudden, surely." "Who knows!" "But Margaret dear " "I'll go for her other letters," said Margaret. "No, I won't, I'll finish my breakfast. In fact, I haven't them. We met the Wilcoxes on an awful expedition that we made from Heidelberg to Speyer.
"Most certainly it has, Frieda, but that will not prevent me from being bored with the Wilcoxes if I return the call." Then Helen simulated tears, and Fraulein Mosebach, who thought her extremely amusing, did the same. "Oh, boo hoo! boo hoo hoo! Meg's going to return the call, and I can't. 'Cos why? 'Cos I'm going to German-eye."
Meanwhile, she could take an interest in the survivors. In spite of her Christmas duties, in spite of her brother, the Wilcoxes continued to play a considerable part in her thoughts. She had seen so much of them in the final week.
"You gave us a good sermon last night, Doctor"; not much more than that, and "I noticed the Milburns there; we don't often get Episcopalians"; and again, "The Wilcoxes" Thomas Wilcox, wholesale grocer, was the chief prop of St Andrew's "were sitting just in front of us. We overtook them going home, and Wilcox explained how much they liked the music. 'Glad to see you, I said.
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