THE LADY OF THE POOL
CHAPTER I. — A FIRM BELIEVER
“I see Mr. Vansittart Merceron’s at the Court again, mamma.”
“Yes, dear. Lady Merceron told me he was coming. She wanted to consult him about Charlie.”
“She’s always consulting him about Charlie, and it never makes any difference.”
Mrs. Bushell looked up from her needlework; her hands were full with needle and stuff, and a couple of pins protruded from her lips. She glanced at her daughter, who stood by the window in the bright blaze of a brilliant sunset, listlessly hitting the blind-cord and its tassel to and fro.
“The poor boy’s very young still,” mumbled Mrs. Bushell through her pins.
“He’s twenty-five last month,” returned Millicent. “I know, because there’s exactly three years between him and me.”