"Thanks, yes. That would be delightful."

"Not so delightful, my dear, as educative. But as I was saying, Benis, it is all your fault that this misconception has got about. I blame you very much in the matter. It comes naturally from your writing so continually about Indians and foreigners and Primitives generally.

People come to a.s.sociate you with them. Still, I think it was extremely rude of Mrs. Stopford Brown to say it."

"So do I," said Spence, with conviction.

"I asked Mrs. Everett, who told me, if anyone else had made remarks leading up to it. But she says not a word. It was just that Mrs.

Everett said that it was strange that when you had taken so long to consider marriage you should have made up your mind so quickly in the end--'Gone off like a sky-rocket!' was her exact wording, and Mrs.

Stopford Brown said, in that frivolous way she has, 'Oh, I suppose he stumbled across a Primitive.' You will notice, Desire, that Mrs.

Stopford Brown's name is not upon the list for your reception."

"But--" began Desire, controlling her face with difficulty.

"No 'buts,' my dear. It may seem severe, but Mrs. Stopford Brown is quite too careless in her general conversation. It is true that her remark is directly traceable to my nephew's unfortunate writings, but she should have investigated her facts before speaking. The result is that it is all over town that you have Indian blood. They say that, out there, almost everyone married squaws once and that is why there is no dower law in British Columbia. Those selfish people did not wish their Indian wives to wear the family jewels. Benis! You will break that cup if you balance it so carelessly. What I want to know is, what are you going to do about it?"

"Not being a resident of British Columbia, I cannot do anything, Aunt.

But I think you will find that since women got the vote the matter has been adjusted."

"I do not understand you. What possible connection has the women's vote with Mrs. Stopford Brown?"

"I thought you were speaking of dower laws. As for Mrs. Brown, haven't you already fitted the punishment to the crime?"

"Then you will not officially contradict the rumor?"

"Dear Aunt, I am not an official. And a rumor is of no importance--until it is contradicted. Surely you are letting yourself get excited about nothing."

Aunt Caroline bestowed upon Desire the feminine glance which means, "What fools men are."

"That's all very well now," she said. "But it is incredible how rumor persists. And when you are a father--there! I knew you would end by breaking that cup."

"Aren't we being rather absurd?" asked Desire a little later when Aunt Caroline and the tea tray had departed together. "Besides, you can't break a cup every time."

Spence sighed. It was undoubtedly true that cups do come to an end.

"What we want to do," said Desire, angry at her heightened color, "is to be sensible."

"That's what Aunt Caroline is. Do you want us to be like Aunt Caroline?"

"I want us to face facts without blushing and jumping."

"I never blush."

"You jump."

"Sorry. But give me time. I am new at this yet. Presently I shall be able to listen to Aunt describing my feelings as a grandfather without a quiver. Poor Aunt!"

"Why do you say 'poor Aunt'?"

"It is going to be rather a blow to her, you know."

"Do you think we ought to--tell her?"

"Good heavens, no!"

"But it seems so mean to let her go on believing things."

"Not half so mean as taking the belief from her. Besides--" He paused and Desire felt herself clutch, unaccountably, at the arm of her garden chair.

"She wouldn't understand," finished Benis.

Desire's grasp upon the chair relaxed.

"Life is like that," he went on slowly. "No matter how careful people are there is always someone who slips in and gets hurt. Our affairs are strictly our own affairs and yet--we stumble over Aunt Caroline and leave her indignant and disappointed and probably blaming Providence for the whole affair. It is just a curious instance of the intricacy of human relationships--you're not going in, are you?"

"There is some typing I want to finish," said Desire. "I have been letting myself get shamefully behind."

CHAPTER XXI

The weather on the day of Desire's reception could scarcely have been bettered. Rain had fallen during the night; fallen just sufficiently to lay the dust on the drive and liberate all the thousand flower scents in the drowsy garden. It was hot enough for the most summery dresses and cool enough for a summer fur. What more could be desired?

Bainbridge was expectant. It was known that Miss Campion was excelling herself in honor of her nephew's bride, and the bride herself was alluringly rumored to be a personality. It is doubtful if anyone really believed the "part Indian" suggestion, but there were those who liked to dally with it. Its possibility was a taste of lemon on a cloyed tongue.

"They say she is part Indian--fancy, a Spence!"

"Nonsense. I asked Dr. Rogers about it and he made me feel pretty foolish. The truth is--her parents are both English. The father is a doctor, at one time a most celebrated physician in London."

"Physicians who are celebrated in London usually stay there."

"And I am sure she is dark enough."

"Not with that skin! And her eyes are grey."

"Oh, I admit she's pretty--if you like that style. I wonder where she gets her clothes?"

"Where they know how to make them, anyway. Did you notice that smoke colored georgette she wore on Sunday? Not a sc.r.a.p of relief anywhere.

Not even around the neck."

"It's the latest. I went right home and ripped the lace off mine. But it made me look like a skinned rabbit, so I put it back. I don't see why fashions are always made for sweet and twenty!"

"Twenty? She's twenty-five if she's a day. For myself I can't say that I like to see young people so sure of themselves. A bride, too!"

"They say Mrs. Stopford Brown hasn't had a card for the reception."

"Did she tell you so?"