THE REDEMPTION OF ANTHONY
"Peter," said Mrs. Martin, looking at him sternly, "I relied on your tact and judgment, and they have played me false."
"Say not so, fair lady; what shall the owner do to redeem them?"
Mrs. Martin shook her head. "I knew it would come, and I hoped it wouldn't. I am relegated to the position of the mother of my daughter. The Parson, here, comes to my tea-party, and even while he inquires for my health, his eye wanders and he says: 'Where is she?' Nan, here, blows in upon us and ignores us all, demanding: 'Where's your girl?' And now you—my erstwhile slave of the lamp—find me inadequate!"
"Stuff, Louise!" broke in Mrs. Crompton.
"You asked us here for a private exhibition of your latest, and we want to see whether it is a signed proof or a copy."
"We hope it is a copy," said The Parson gallantly.
"Well, my exhibit has gone skating, under strict orders to return at five, and, my dears, it is an original, not a copy."
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