II
“Heavens, Herminia, how can you?”
“What, aunt dear?”
“Sprawl there like any naughty nymph ... and your petticoats ... so careless and bold ... showing the prideful perfection o’ your proportions, the fullness o’ your forms ... like a graceless Greek goddess on a vase ... so free! Get up, child, do!”
Herminia laughed and, pillowing head on clasped hands, stretched shapely limbs voluptuously upon her grassy couch and stared up dreamily through the leaves of the apple tree to the cloudless blue.
“Concern me, child!” exclaimed the Duchess, glancing apprehensively towards the party-wall. “Suppose he should be prying as usual?”
“He would never see me, dear aunt! He hath eyes for no one and nothing but you. And small wonder, for you are looking extreme well o’ late. You grow younger every day, I swear y’ do ... that gown, now, becometh you vastly!”
“Mm!” quoth the Duchess, eyeing her niece warily. “Why this fulsome flattery, pray?”
“’Tis merest truth, aunt. And thou’rt looking thy best to-day, which is well, for in half an hour I take thee to meet him.”
“Him, Herminia? Can you possibly mean—him?”
“Him, aunt.”
“That odious ogre——”
“That gentle giant, aunt.”
“I’ll not go, Herminia.”
“I suggest thy little laced cap with the blue ribbands, aunt.”
“I detest your hateful giant, minx!”
“Blue ribbands set off thy beauteous eyes to admiration, dear aunt!”
“I say I’ll not go.”
“And thy morocco shoes, aunt dear ... indeed, thou hast the littlest, prettiest foot i’ the world!”
“I vow I’ll not stir one step to see your odious giant.”
“Then shall I carry thee, thou sweet atomy.”
The Duchess stamped, sat down and frowned, but when she spoke her voice was surprisingly complaisant:
“My cap with the blue ribbands and my morocco shoes? So be it, thou wilful wretch—go you and fetch ’em!”
Herminia yawned, stretched languorously and rose.
“Dearest my aunt,” quoth she, “when thou’rt happily espoused, forget not ’twas thy loving niece——”
“Tush, minx—begone!”
Herminia went; but scarcely had her stately form vanished within the narrow doorway than the Duchess stealthily arose, caught up her sun-bonnet and, opening the wicket gate in the garden wall, hasted away down the leafy back-lane.