he?”

“Not dozens of children, dear — oh, no, not dozens. Not even one dozen. Only nine. At least only nine that count. The rest are dead. He isn’t old — he’s only about forty-eight — the prime of life, Doss — and what does it matter about a wen?”

“Nothing, of course,” agreed Valancy quite sincerely. It certainly did not matter to her whether Edward Beck had a wen or a dozen wens or no wen at all. But Valancy was getting vaguely suspicious. There was certainly an air of suppressed triumph about Cousin Georgiana. Could it be possible that Cousin Georgiana was thinking of marrying again? Marrying Edward Beck? Absurd. Cousin Georgiana was sixty-five if she were a day and her little anxious face was as closely covered with fine