Mrs. Geoffrey laughed.
"You have an instinct for the fine proprieties, without a bit of respect for any conventional fences," she said. "I'll ask Dorris."
"Then I'm sure she'll come," said Hazel, understanding quite well and gladly the last three words, and passing over the first phrase as if it had been a Greek motto, put there to be skipped.
"Ada has stopped practicing," said Mrs. Geoffrey, who had undertaken the entertainment of her little guest during her daughter's half hour of music. "She will be waiting for you now."
Hazel instantly jumped up.
But she paused after three steps toward the door, to say gently, looking back over her shoulder with a shy glance out of her timidly clear eyes,—
"Perhaps,—I hope I haven't,—stayed too long!"
"Come back, you little hazel-sprite!" cried Mrs. Geoffrey; and when she got her within reach again, she put her hands one each side of the little blushing, gleaming face, and kissed it, saying,—
"I don't think,—I'm slow, usually, in making up my mind about people, big or little,—but I don't think you can stay too long,—or come too often, dear!"
"I've found another for you, Aleck," she said, that night at the hair-brushing, to her husband.