I was
striving to forget.
Mrs. Judson alone persisted in reminding me of the impending scandal.
"A prince in his palace," she would maliciously murmur as I
encountered her. I think she must have observed that I was bitter, for
she at last spoke quite amiably of our morning's dust-up.
"You certainly got my goat," she said in the quaint American fashion,
"telling me little No-no was too fat. You had me going there for a
minute, thinking you meant it!"
The creature's name was Albert, yet she persisted in calling it
"No-no," because the child itself would thus falsely declare its name
upon being questioned, having in some strange manner gained this
impression. It was another matter I meant to bring to her attention,
but at this crisis I had no heart for it.
My crowd left. I was again alone to muse bitterly upon our plight.
Still I scanned the street, hoping for a sight of Cousin Egbert, who,
I fancied, would be informed as to the wretched details. Instead, now,
I saw the Honourable George. He walked on the opposite side of the
thoroughfare, his manner of dejection precisely what I should have
expected. Followed closely as usual he was by the Judson cur. A spirit
of desperate mockery seized me. I called to Mrs. Judson, who was
gathering glasses from a table.
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