"It is that wretch of a Rob!" she thought. "Well, fortunately, it all grows on. But what can I do?"
Warned by the increasing looseness that any attempt to move from the room would result in a general ruin, she sat as motionless as possible, while she tried to talk away as if nothing were amiss. Her guests were watching the impending catastrophe, the older man, who had a wife and sisters of his own, with sympathy, and the younger one with unmixed amusement.
"How I wish they would go home!" meditated Bess, as she smiled brightly in answer to some sally of Mr. Muir. "Time is precious, for this won't hold five minutes longer, and the least move I make will bring it all down."
And at the moment, the last pin slipped from its place, and a mass of bright, wavy hair fell on the girl's shoulders. It was a trying moment, but, determined to make the best of a bad matter, she said,—
"I shall have to be excused for a moment. My mischievous little cousin has been experimenting with my hairpins, without my knowing it. Please excuse me a minute." And with flaming cheeks she fled to her room.
She was back almost immediately, but not before the gentlemen had enjoyed a hearty though smothered laugh, and Mr. Muir had inquired,—
"Is this a sample of the fine influence she has on small boys?"
The conversation was once more running smoothly, and Bess was just losing the recollection of her mortifying experience, when a little sound caught her ears, a light, stealthy footstep that cautiously advanced to the drawn portière, and then retreated. Five minutes later they all gave a sudden start of surprise, as the vigorous, clattering alarm attached to a noisy little nickel clock gradually unwound the entire length of its spring. It was difficult to talk away composedly, but Bess managed to do it; and while her guests were inwardly shaking over the too palpable hint, she was longing to give the boys an outward shaking for their annoying pranks.
Another half-hour passed by, a long one to Bess, who momentarily feared a fresh outbreak. But quiet seemed to be restored, and she was just beginning to breathe freely again, when once more she heard the quiet footfall. Turning, she gazed towards the doorway in an agony of apprehension. What now? The portière trembled, slightly parted, and through the opening was pushed the old house cat, a great black animal of staid demeanor and unimpeachable dignity. But at this moment the unfortunate creature's dignity was not so manifest as it might have been. Each one of her four paws was wrapped in a neat casing of heavy paper, while securely lashed to her glossy tail was the mate to the rose that Bess was wearing.
As if overpowered by her unwonted decorations, the poor animal stood motionless for a moment, and then attempted to walk across the room. However, this usually simple operation was attended with unforeseen difficulties. Pussy's toes, in their smooth envelopes, slipped this way and that as her weight was thrown first on one foot, then on the other; and as she lifted each foot, she gave it a hasty but energetic shake to free it, before she put it down on the carpet again; and in the meantime she was angrily snapping her insulted tail from side to side. It was too much to be passed over in silence, and, to Bessie's great relief, Frank Muir burst into a hearty laugh, as he rose to rescue the unoffending cat, who, at sight of the stranger, fled under the sofa, and was only dragged out with some difficulty. Bess and the rector joined in the laugh, and for a few moments no one of the three could speak. When she could control her voice: