"Right you are, old lady. See how I am kept in leading-strings, Miss Mackinnon," he said, smiling all over his smooth-featured face. "I came home from business an hour earlier than usual this afternoon just on purpose to receive you."
"It was unnecessary," said Isla quite coolly. "Can I get you another cushion, Mrs. Chard? You don't seem to sit very comfortably. I have been used to waiting on an invalid. Do let me help you before I make tea."
Her deft and willing left arm went round Mrs. Chard's shoulders and raised her up a bit. She then shook the cushions, and made her as comfortable as she could, Mr. Chard looking on approvingly the while.
"You're in luck this time, Jenny. Among all the fools you have had there wasn't one who had the art of making you really comfortable--eh?"
Mrs. Chard smiled, and her eyes gratefully followed the girl's slim figure back to the tea-table. The discontented, uneasy expression had died out of her eyes, giving place to one of peace, which imparted an unexpected charm to her face.
Isla, quite unconscious of the favourable impression she was creating, and only wishing with all her heart that Mr. Chard would make himself scarce, busied herself about her new duties, and, when there was likely to be silence, made small talk with an ease that surprised herself.
Mr. Chard was evidently extremely anxious to hear her talk, and it was he who put the questions. But Isla only answered such as she chose, and, at the end of twenty minutes, she left him very much where he was at the beginning.
Her coolness and cleverness piqued him. He had been accustomed to see his wife's companions shrink before him and efface themselves in his presence.
"The old lady doesn't allow me a whiff here, Miss Mackinnon. Hard lines, don't you think? Much as I should like to stop, I must tear myself away. We shall meet at dinner later on, I hope, and resume our interesting conversation."
Isla bowed slightly, and when the door closed she rose and came over to the side of the couch, where Mrs. Chard sat smiling happily.