Page:Maud Howe - Atlanta in the South.djvu/119

 passed from the drawing-room she said in an undertone to Philip: "I suppose Darius will have to be of the party to-morrow. In this country, you know, no respectable woman can stir four steps without her lord and master—sit here, please, Mr. Rondelet, on my right." She busied herself in helping the soup. There was a pause, first broken by the-hostess: "Darius Harden, my husband—"

"Sara Harden, my wife."

"I have been a good and faithful helpmate to you all these years?"

"To the best of my belief and knowledge, you have."

"Then what good or just cause can you show for not accompanying me to the Rondelet plantation to-morrow?"

Mr. Harden paused, balanced his soup-spoon meditatively, as if weighing the matter, swallowed his consommé, and said sententiously: "My dear, I am very sorry, but to-morrow I am obliged to attend to some affairs of a very pressing nature."

"Now, Dari, don't try to bluff me. What is it? There will be no more business till after Mardi Gras."

Mr. Harden coughed behind his napkin and glanced obliquely at Rondelet.

"Now, you old gaberlunzie man, you might as well tell me first as last."