She did not look up, but answered: “At the studio, mother.”
“All day? Where did you have your dinner?”
“We had it there, such a lovely, tasteful dinner. Mr. Kemp and I got it ourselves.” Elizabeth tried to be very animated and to speak as if it were a matter of course. Her mother made no comment, and she went on. “You see it was raining so hard——”
“Not all day.”
“Well, it was whenever I looked out, and Mr. Kemp invited me. He wanted to try the new chimney and roast potatoes. It was such a big, populous fire at first and the sparks flew out so we had to wait till it stopped popping and there were some red embers to put the potatoes in. They were a long, long time roasting, though.”
“And after dinner?”
“We washed the dishes and then I was coming, but it was raining so awfully hard just then so we sat down by the fire and Mr. Kemp told me a lovely narration. I was so interested in it that I didn’t know how late it was getting, and when he had finished I came straight home. He came with me. You weren’t worried, were you, mother?”
“I was not so much worried as I was grieved to know that you wilfully disobeyed me. I excused you from the usual rule of getting your lessons in the morning and you promised to study this afternoon, yet you have just come in and it is suppertime.”
Elizabeth was silent. She knew she had done wrong, but it was so hard to leave off when one was having such an unusually good time. “I didn’t mean to stay so late,” she made the excuse lamely.
“I think, my dear,” said her mother, “that in order to prevent your forgetting another time, I must forbid your going at all to the studio until I give you permission.” Then her mother walked away, and Elizabeth drew a long sigh as she turned back to her books.