"You will be tired in the morning, Sylvia."
"No, I shan't; I shall be as fresh as possible. I shall dream it all over again. There, wait till I've brushed my hair, and I'll let you go to sleep. Not that I can understand your wanting to sleep; you were just as keen about this as I was."
"Yes," said Pam, languidly.
"I'm downright disappointed in you. Don't you know I'd have enjoyed it all twice as much if you were enjoying it too? I'm glad papa was there; the glances of enjoyment he sent me from the high table were exhilarating. Wasn't it nice the way all those little round tables were set out? And didn't Vandaleur junior do his duty well as a host? By the way, wasn't it low of Trevithick not to come back after all?"
"I daresay there was some good reason."
"Then he ought to have said there was. It is very uncivil to papa, too, not to return on the date arranged, and not to write."
"He couldn't mean to be uncivil," said Pamela, faintly.
"I'll tell you what. If I hadn't eaten those old sweets he sent me at Christmas I'd fire them back at his head: wouldn't you his old violets if they weren't dead and gone?"
Pamela touched in her dark corner a little basket of withered violets, which, for reasons best known to herself, she had taken to bed with her.