"That seems a sweet lady staying at the bungalow. Miss Carrington, I hear, her name is. She comes from London, and Mrs. Holt says she's very musical. I think I shall have to call."
Avelyn went on eating beef and potatoes with a jumping heart but outward composure. It had not struck her that it was possible to pay social calls on Dante Gabriel Rossetti heroines. What if she were to meet the Lavender Lady at close quarters? Even speak to her? The idea seemed to need preparation.
Mrs. Watson had quite made up her mind.
"Daphne and I will go on Tuesday," she said.
It was of course appropriate that Daphne, being the eldest, should go, but Avelyn envied her all the same.
When the momentous afternoon arrived she enquired anxiously what her sister was going to wear. It seemed vitally important that the family should make a good impression.
"You'll put on your grey coat and skirt, won't you?" she said beseechingly.
"I don't think I will. I really don't want to go at all," yawned Daphne.
Not want to go! Avelyn could hardly believe it. She stared at Daphne incredulously.
"Don't you feel well?" she asked.