"Good gracious—no, Gillett! you know I always come in this way," and she stooped as if to enter.
"No, miss—oh dear, no!" continued the other, dragging away the chair in her terror. "I never will consent; it mustn't be."
"Are you mad?" exclaimed the amazed girl. The woman caught Miles's face; he was smiling. Altogether her position was so critical, she became doubly confused, and said something incoherent about "Lady Dora's dignity."
"I see what it is," said that lady. "Mrs. Gillett has forgotten the girl she used to scold once; so, Minnie, we will sit outside here, and I will make her better acquaintance as a woman," and the cousins, suiting the action to the word, sat down each on a garden-chair, which they drew close to the window. This was a thousand times worse than any position she ever had been in; no blindness, no pattens, could save her here. She was not a free agent—What would they say? what do? and besides, the door was locked—should any one rap! It was the hour when the servants generally required her advice or presence to prepare for supper; her agony was intense. She durst not move lest Minnie should step in, using her own chair for that purpose. Every possible thought crossed her mind to terrify her—should Miles sneeze? and, in the midst of all this, Minnie began—
"Now," she said, "Gillett, I've come to scold you for your cruelty yesterday to poor Mr. Tremenhere."
Mrs. Gillett was seized with a violent fit of coughing; could any subject more terrible under circumstances have been selected? Miles was all attention.
"You've a bad cough," said Lady Dora, kindly, for her; but she wanted Minnie's homely warmth of speech.
"Th-an-k you-r la-dy-ship, I ha-ve," coughed the woman.
"You should be careful at your age," continued the other. "Colds are the forerunners of all disease, they say."
"So o-ur doc-tor tel-ls me," uttered the housekeeper, perplexed how to keep up the cough; "and he sa-ys I sh-ou-l-d avoid dr-aughts!"