"Oh! So Mrs. Prockter has kindly consented to get Andrew Dean for me! And how does she mean to do it?"
James had no alternative; he was obliged to relate how Mrs. Prockter meant to do it.
"Now, uncle," said Helen, "just listen to me. If Mrs. Prockter says a single word about me to any one, I will never speak either to her or you again. Mind! A single word! A nice thing that she should go up to Swetnam's, and hint that Andrew and Emanuel have been fighting because of me! What about my reputation? And do you suppose that I want the leavings of Lilian Swetnam? Me! The idea is preposterous!"
"You wanted 'em badly enough this afternoon," said he.
"No, I didn't," she contradicted him passionately. "You are quite mistaken. You misunderstood me, though I'm surprised that you should have done. Perhaps I was a little excited this afternoon. Certainly you were thinking about other things. I expect you were expecting Mrs. Prockter this evening. It would have been nicer of you to have told me she was coming."
"Now, please let it be clearly understood," she swept on. "You must go down and tell Mrs. Prockter at once that you were entirely in error, and that she is on no account to breathe a word about me to any one. Whatever you were both thinking of I cannot imagine! But I can assure you I'm extremely annoyed. Mrs. Prockter putting her finger in the pie!.... Let her take care that I don't put my finger into her pie! I always knew she was a gossiping old thing, but, really—"
"Mr. Ollerenshaw!" A prettily plaintive voice rose from the black depths below.
"There! she's getting impatient for you!" Helen snapped. "Run off to her at once. To think that if I hadn't happened to hear the bell ring, and come out to see what was the matter, I should have been the talk of Bursley before I was a day older!"
She picked up the candle.
"I must have a light!" said James, somewhat lamely.