"But I'm after telling her--"

Mrs. Budlong could be as stern as steel with her husband or her
servants. She cowed Brigida into lumbering downstairs with the
message. Mrs. Budlong went to the window to triumph over her victim's
retreat in a panic of confusion.

Instead, she heard a light patter of footsteps and Johnetta Ackerley
hurried into the room.

"Oh, my dear, are you ill? Pardon my coming right up, but the cook
takes so long and I was so worried for fear you were--but you aren't,
are you?"

Mrs. Budlong was at bay. She glared at the intruder and threw up her
chin. Johnetta stared at her aghast.

"Why, my dear! you aren't mad at me, are you?"

Mrs. Budlong smiled bitterly, and said nothing. Johnetta shrilled:

"Why, what have I done?"

As a matter of fact, what had she done? All that Mrs. Budlong could
think of was her husband's unused suggestion for a war with Sally
Swezey. She spoke through locked teeth:

"It's not what you've done but what you've said."

"Why, what have I said?"