His indignation was left in the air, for the three ladies had instinctively united against him, treacherously including his private feud in the sex-war of the ages:  Cora jumped lightly upon the table and sat whistling and polishing the nails of one hand upon the palm of another; Laura continued to sew without looking up, and Mrs. Madison, conquering a tendency to laugh, preserved a serene countenance and said ruminatively: 

“They were all rather queer, the Corlisses.”

Hedrick stared incredulously, baffled; but men must expect these things, and this was no doubt a helpful item in his education.

“I wonder if he wants to sell the house,” said Mrs. Madison.

“I wish he would.  Anything that would make father get out of it!” Cora exclaimed.  “I hope Mr. Corliss will burn it if he doesn’t sell it.”

“He might want to live here himself.”

“He!” Cora emitted a derisive outcry.

Her mother gave her a quick, odd look, in which there was a real alarm.  “What is he like, Cora?”

“Awfully foreign and distinguished!”

This brought Hedrick to confront her with a leap as of some wild animal under a lash.  He landed close to her; his face awful.

“Princely, I should call him,” said Cora, her enthusiasm undaunted.  “Distinctly princely!”

“Princely,” moaned Hedrick.  “Pe-rin-sley!”

“Hedrick!” Mrs. Madison reproved him automatically.  “In what way is he `foreign,’ Cora?”

“Oh, every way.”  Cora let her glance rest dreamily upon the goaded boy.  “He has a splendid head set upon a magnificent torso——­”

“Torso!” Hedrick whispered hoarsely.

“Tall, a glorious figure—­like a young guardsman’s.”  Madness was gathering in her brother’s eyes; and observing it with quiet pleasure, she added:  “One sees immediately he has the grand manner, the bel air.”

Hedrick exploded. “`_Bel air_’!” he screamed, and began to jump up and down, tossing his arms frantically, and gasping with emotion.  “Oh, bel air!  Oh, blah! `Henry Esmond!’ Been readin’ `Henry Esmond!’ Oh, you be-yoo-tiful Cora-Beatrix-a-lee!  Magganifisent torso!  Gull_o_-rious figgi-your!  Bel air!  Oh, slush!  Oh, luv-a-ly slush!” He cast himself convulsively upon the floor, full length.  “Luv-a-ly, luv-a-ly slush!”

“He is thirty, I should say,” continued Cora, thoughtfully.  “Yes—­about thirty.  A strong, keen face, rather tanned.  He’s between fair and dark——­”

Hedrick raised himself to the attitude of the “Dying Gaul.”  “And with `hair slightly silvered at the temples!’ Ain’t his hair slightly silvered at the temples?” he cried imploringly.  “Oh, sister, in pity’s name let his hair be slightly silvered at the temples?  Only three grains of corn, your Grace; my children are starving!”

He collapsed again, laid his face upon his extended arms, and writhed.

“He has rather wonderful eyes,” said Cora.  “They seem to look right through you.”