“Perhaps Gertrude can inform you,” Tom answered severely.

Gertrude flushed with annoyance, but tossed her head.

“Why, what’s happened, Gertrude?”

“Nothing for Tom to make such a fuss about.  He’s mad at me because I won’t insult a gentleman who is invited to the best houses, and who is received by the most particular young ladies of my acquaintance.”

“At any rate,” retorted Tom, “I heard Jack Sidmore tell his sister that she was not to recognize Mr. Falconer.  I have warned Gertrude that a great many people believe him to be a suspicious character, and some know him to be such, so far as women are concerned, and yet last night Gertrude accepted his company home.”

“Hadn’t you gone home with Delia Spaulding?  Was I to come trapesing home alone?” said Gertrude by way of justification.

“Now, Gert, be fair:  didn’t I tell you that I’d be back immediately?”

“Yes, but I knew something about the length of your ‘immediatelies’ when Delia Spaulding was concerned.”

“You might have had Phil Trowbridge as an escort.”

“Phil Trowbridge!  I hate him!” said Gertrude with such vehemence that the very line which parted her hair was crimsoned.

“Well, what’s that other man done?” asked the mother, who had not lost her interest in the original question.  “What do folks have against him?”

“Why, he’s rented a house and set up a woman in it, and nobody knows who she is, and he won’t let out a word about her.  If she’s an honest wife or his sister or a reputable friend, why the deuce doesn’t he say so?  Jack Sidmore says there isn’t any doubt but that the woman is Falconer’s mistress, to speak in plain English.  Hang it!  Gertrude can’t take a hint.”

“Falconer!  Why, Susan, ain’t that the name of the man who rented your house?” cried the mother.

Susan felt all their eyes turned on her, and knew that she was cornered.  So she said “Yes,” and raised her coffee-cup to her lips, but set it down quickly, as she felt her hand trembling.

“And did he rent it for a lady friend?” Tom asked, putting a significant stress on the last two words.

“He did,” Susan answered.

“And is there living in your house, right here beside us, a mysterious woman with a baby?” Gertrude asked eagerly.

“There’s a woman living in my house, and she has a little girl,” said Susan on the defensive.

“And does Mr. Falconer visit her?”

“Perhaps so:  I have no spies out.”

“Why, Susie! how strange!  You never told me a word about it.  I never dreamed that Mr. Falconer was the man who had rented your house, and who has been running here so much,” Gertrude said.

“Well, I’d get that woman out of my house as quick as ever I could if I was you, Susan,” said Mrs. Summerhaze.  “Like as not the house will get a bad name, so you’ll have trouble renting it.”