"My uncle said—my uncle thought—he heard about your coming, and he told me—" Every word of her studied explanation seemed to have escaped from Norah's mind; she stammered, and turned very red; Sophy looked at her in surprise.
"What on earth do you mean?" she enquired.
Norah's hand was upon the loaf, and she unconsciously squeezed it so tightly as to leave the mark of the pressure upon it.
"My uncle thought that I should tell my mistress when I have a friend at meals," stammered forth Norah, wondering at her own courage when the sentence was uttered.
"That old Mrs. Martin may be sure to have hot muffins ready for her!" cried Sophy, bursting into a merry laugh. Her mirth disconcerted her friend as much as her anger might have done.
"Uncle Ned doesn't think it—quite right," said Norah, looking down, "that I should entertain any guest at my lady's expense, and without her knowledge."
"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed Sophy Puller. "I think that uncle of yours must have lost his head as well as his arm, or he would not be putting such rubbish into your silly little mind!" And catching up the knife, and taking the loaf from Norah, Sophy began to make up for lost time by helping herself in good earnest.
"But—" began Norah, timidly.
The milliner's girl cut her short.
"Now, don't be talking any more such stuff, Norah dear; you're not such a baby as to mind silly cant! I'll tell you what I've come here for to-day." Sophy went on talking as fast as a mouth full of bread and butter would let her. "You're going to have a treat—such a treat! There's an entertainment to-night in the Town Hall; you must have seen the big bills about it stuck upon every wall—the famous juggler is to perform, who helps a dozen people out of one bottle to a dozen different wines, and puts an extinguisher upon his wife, and makes her vanish into air, and who does a thousand other things more wonderful even than these! Now, you and I, my darling, are going to see him to-night."