the hall. It was asking too much of anyone to have to bear two entirely different audiences in mind. Besides, Aunt Hester—usually so stolid and well-balanced—actually sounded as though she were growing hysterical. “It was my idea—and he accepted it with relief.”
“You wicked girl!”
She was startled out of all awareness of Aunt Hester’s reply, by the furious, whispered ejaculation behind her. And, in spite of all the complications of her talk with her aunt, Leila’s overwhelming reaction was one of sheer astonishment that Frances should take the revelation like this.
Surprised she might well be, annoyed perhaps. But this fury of reproach and indignation was out of all proportion.
Leila began to wonder if she were in some dreadful and ridiculous dream when, to her immeasurable relief, the operator’s voice said brightly: “Time’s up, I’m afraid.” And Aunt Hester faded out, and was a hundred miles away again, and Leila was free to replace the receiver and turn to tackle the other half of the problem.
Frances was standing there, flushed, with tears in her eyes.
“How wicked of you!” she exclaimed. “How could you deceive my poor mother like that?”
“My dear girl—”
“I’m not your dear girl!” Frances spoke more like an outraged child than a reasonable young woman. “I’m just one of the other poor fools you thought you could trick.”
And to Leila’s incredulous dismay and disgust she burst into tears and rushed sobbing into a nearby room.
Leila passed a bewildered hand over her hair, and for a moment could do nothing but stare after her. Then Mr. Brogner coughed, and Leila was most unwillingly recalled to the realization that this scene could hardly have had a reassuring effect on him.
“If this silly business can be quietly shelved—” he had said. And from that moment the silly business had developed with most unwelcome drama and sensationalism, right in front of his eyes. Shelving it seemed out of the question.
“A very painful and foolish scene,” Mr. Brogner observed austerely.
“I had no idea she would take it like that,” Leila began wearily.
“And I had no idea that you were foolishly trying to carry out this ill-advised deception without even informing Mrs. Morley’s family,” he replied severely. “Really, Miss Lorne , words fail me, when I contemplate your behaviour.”
She had a silly and hysterical desire to say: “Don’t contemplate it then.” But she retained her presence of mind sufficiently, to say instead:
“It seemed best to us to have as few people as possible in the secret.”
“The number appears to have been regrettably increased during t he last quarter of an hour,” remarked Mr. Brogner, gesturing distastefully towards the telephone.
“Oh—” Leila bit her lip. “That was my aunt.”
And then a door upstairs was opened, and a moment later Simon and the doctor descended the stairs together.
Seeing her and Mr. Brogner standing rather aimlessly in the hall, Simon said absently: “Hello, darling. Where’s Frances?”
“In there, crying her eyes out because I’m not Rosemary,” replied Leila, indicating the room into which Frances had disappeared.
“ What !”
“I’m sorry.” There was no reason to preserve appearances simply for the sake of Dr. Brogner. “The fact is that Aunt Hester rang up and—and the situation fell to pieces.”
“Oh— ” Simon looked completely nonplussed, while Dr. Brogner glanced from one to the other, with an expression which showed that he had what his brother so sadly lacked—a keen sense of humour.
“Perhaps we should be going now,” suggested Mr. Brogner pointedly.
“If I can’t be of any further use.” The doctor looked quizzically from Simon to Leila once more.
“Thank you—I don’t think there’s anything else for you to tackle.” Simon made an obvious effort to conceal the fact that he wanted to be alone with Leila and hear all the unfortunate details.
“Will
“You wicked girl!”
She was startled out of all awareness of Aunt Hester’s reply, by the furious, whispered ejaculation behind her. And, in spite of all the complications of her talk with her aunt, Leila’s overwhelming reaction was one of sheer astonishment that Frances should take the revelation like this.
Surprised she might well be, annoyed perhaps. But this fury of reproach and indignation was out of all proportion.
Leila began to wonder if she were in some dreadful and ridiculous dream when, to her immeasurable relief, the operator’s voice said brightly: “Time’s up, I’m afraid.” And Aunt Hester faded out, and was a hundred miles away again, and Leila was free to replace the receiver and turn to tackle the other half of the problem.
Frances was standing there, flushed, with tears in her eyes.
“How wicked of you!” she exclaimed. “How could you deceive my poor mother like that?”
“My dear girl—”
“I’m not your dear girl!” Frances spoke more like an outraged child than a reasonable young woman. “I’m just one of the other poor fools you thought you could trick.”
And to Leila’s incredulous dismay and disgust she burst into tears and rushed sobbing into a nearby room.
Leila passed a bewildered hand over her hair, and for a moment could do nothing but stare after her. Then Mr. Brogner coughed, and Leila was most unwillingly recalled to the realization that this scene could hardly have had a reassuring effect on him.
“If this silly business can be quietly shelved—” he had said. And from that moment the silly business had developed with most unwelcome drama and sensationalism, right in front of his eyes. Shelving it seemed out of the question.
“A very painful and foolish scene,” Mr. Brogner observed austerely.
“I had no idea she would take it like that,” Leila began wearily.
“And I had no idea that you were foolishly trying to carry out this ill-advised deception without even informing Mrs. Morley’s family,” he replied severely. “Really, Miss Lorne , words fail me, when I contemplate your behaviour.”
She had a silly and hysterical desire to say: “Don’t contemplate it then.” But she retained her presence of mind sufficiently, to say instead:
“It seemed best to us to have as few people as possible in the secret.”
“The number appears to have been regrettably increased during t he last quarter of an hour,” remarked Mr. Brogner, gesturing distastefully towards the telephone.
“Oh—” Leila bit her lip. “That was my aunt.”
And then a door upstairs was opened, and a moment later Simon and the doctor descended the stairs together.
Seeing her and Mr. Brogner standing rather aimlessly in the hall, Simon said absently: “Hello, darling. Where’s Frances?”
“In there, crying her eyes out because I’m not Rosemary,” replied Leila, indicating the room into which Frances had disappeared.
“ What !”
“I’m sorry.” There was no reason to preserve appearances simply for the sake of Dr. Brogner. “The fact is that Aunt Hester rang up and—and the situation fell to pieces.”
“Oh— ” Simon looked completely nonplussed, while Dr. Brogner glanced from one to the other, with an expression which showed that he had what his brother so sadly lacked—a keen sense of humour.
“Perhaps we should be going now,” suggested Mr. Brogner pointedly.
“If I can’t be of any further use.” The doctor looked quizzically from Simon to Leila once more.
“Thank you—I don’t think there’s anything else for you to tackle.” Simon made an obvious effort to conceal the fact that he wanted to be alone with Leila and hear all the unfortunate details.
“Will
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