"O, thank goodness, Mary is answering the bell; not but what Hugh is used to Becky's shortcomings. Now he will be shown into the drawing-room in style. I hope mother isn't asleep on the sofa."
"Come along, Molly," cries Honor, preparing to leave the arbour. "We need not wait to have his name brought to us."
But Molly shows distinct signs of cowardice as they approach the drawing-room together, and as Honor actually opens the door and enters, she hangs back, and peeps curiously at Hugh from behind her sister.
"Why, Molly, have you forgotten me? Don't you know me?" he says, taking her two hands in his, and looking down into her fair flushed face.
Molly laughs.
"You have changed," she says a little shyly, "and if we hadn't watched you all the time you were walking up to the door, I don't know that I should have known you in this half light."
"Ah," says Honor, "you little thought we were in our 'leafy retreat,' as we used to call it. I expect you would have found your way to us there if you had."
"I am very sure I should," answers Hugh, going over to the window. "Shall I draw up the blinds, Mrs. Merivale? the sun is off the room now."
"O, don't!" cries Molly, who seems to be seized with an unaccountable fit of shyness. "I do hate a light room; so does mother."
Mrs. Merivale, however, happens to prefer a little light on this occasion, now that the sun is going down, and says in the same breath with Molly, "Yes, do please, Hugh."