There was a fly on her hair, which he caught with a lightning sweep of his hand. As he thrust his unfortunate prisoner into the bottle he chuckled at the expression of disgust on Charlotte's face. The fly disposed of, he said:
"Mother shall judge whether you are right or wrong."
"Don't put yourself to unnecessary trouble," said Charlotte. "I can tell you beforehand how she will decide."
The entrance of Mrs. Fox-Cordery did not cause her to raise her head; she proceeded with her darning, and awaited the attack of the combined forces. A singular resemblance existed between mother and son. Her face, like his, was of the hue of pallid wax, her eyes were blue, her hair sandy, and she spoke in a low and languid voice. She held an open letter in her hand.
"Here is a house that will suit you, my love," she said, holding out the letter to him. "It faces the river; there is a nice piece of meadow-land, and a lawn, and a garden with flowers and fruit trees. It stands alone in its own grounds, and there is a little arm of the river you may almost call your own, with a rustic bridge stretching to the opposite bank. The terms are rather high, twelve guineas a week for not less than three months, paid in advance, but I think we must go and see it. I should say it is exactly the place to suit your purpose."
Charlotte listened in wonder. This contemplated removal to a house near the river was new to her--and what scheme was Fox engaged upon that would be furthered by a proceeding so entirely novel? Mr. Fox-Cordery put the letter in his pocket without reading it, and said in a displeased tone:
"We will speak of it by and by."
Mrs. Fox-Cordery glanced sharply from her son to her daughter.
"Charlotte, what have you been doing to annoy Fox?"
"Nothing," replied Charlotte.