"I know what I'm doing, Dan'l," she said to her husband.
Mr. Kybird doubted it, but held his peace; and the objections of Jack
Nugent, who found to his dismay that he was to be of the party, were
deemed too trivial to be worthy of serious consideration.
They started shortly after Jem Hardy had left his office, despite the
fact that Mrs. Kybird, who was troubled with asthma, was suffering untold
agonies in a black satin dress which had been originally made for a much
smaller woman, and had come into her husband's hands in the way of
business. It got into hers in what the defrauded Mr. Kybird considered
an extremely unbusinesslike manner, and it was not without a certain
amount of satisfaction that he regarded her discomfiture as the party
sallied out.
[Illustration: "It was not without a certain amount of satisfaction that
he regarded her discomfiture."]
Mr. Nugent was not happy. Mrs. Kybird in the snug seclusion of the back
parlour was one thing; Mrs. Kybird in black satin at its utmost tension
and a circular hat set with sable ostrich plumes nodding in the breeze
was another. He felt that the public eye was upon them and that it
twinkled. His gaze wandered from mother to daughter.
"What are you staring at?" demanded Miss Kybird, pertly.
"I was thinking how well you are looking," was the reply.
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