If brown eyes could speak, the intelligent orbs of Prince uttered volumes, as they gazed into the lady's face.
"Good Prince! You understand it all, don't you?—Every word! I used to like little Jean very much. She was a dear little girl—rather funny, but nice. She must be grown now. Why, it is actually a quarter past five. And no tea up! Giles!—You there!"
"My dear aunt, don't excite yourself, pray! The clock is fast, and the train will be slow. Usual combination of circumstances."
"But the tea! Maria seems to have forgotten. What can she be about? O no, don't ring—please don't ring! You see—" in a hushed voice—"Maria has rather a temper, and I don't think she or the cook quite like it. And if the cook is cross to-morrow morning, it is uncomfortable. O the tea is sure to come directly—only I can't think what Maria is about. Don't ring, please, Giles. Yes, I always keep that clock rather fast—just to hurry on Maria."
"Doesn't Maria know that it is fast?"
"Well, yes; and somehow she always remembers it, and I never do. How long have you been in the room? I didn't hear you come."
"No, indeed. You were utterly lost to all sublunary considerations—mentally and spiritually gone. It was a mere casket sitting on that chair—the outside shell—interior vanished elsewhere! What have you of such engrossing interest? History—philosophy—science? Whew—it's a story—a good little innocent story of sweet little boys and girls."
"Ah, that is the worst of me. I do get so interested in a story. Would you believe it? I had forgotten that you were in the house. And when I looked up and saw you, I was as startled—!"
"No, I don't think I can believe that!"—solemnly shaking his head. "Too good an opinion of myself!"
"Ah, now you are quizzing me. But really that little girl ought to arrive. I hope the train hasn't broken-down."