"But is not that as it ought to be?" he inquired, with assumed innocence.
"I mean a columbine!" she replied sternly; "and her face is an inch deep in powder—she is a show! As to Helen Denis——"
"Yes, Mrs. Creery. As to Miss Denis?"
"I'm greatly disappointed in her. She is no candle-light beauty, after all."
"Ah, well, maybe she will come to that by-and-by. So long as she can stand the daylight, there is hope for her—eh?"
Mrs. Creery told Dr. Malone that "she believed he was in love with the girl, or he would not talk such nonsense!" and finally wound up the conversation by darkly insinuating something terrible about Mr. Lisle, adding that he had craved for her forbearance, and implored her to hold her tongue!
"But I won't," she concluded, rising as she spoke, and dusting the crumbs off her ample lap. "It is my duty to expose him! We don't want any wolves in sheep's clothing prowling about the settlement," and with a nod weighty with warning, she moved away in the direction of the ball-room.
Miss Caggett had torn her dress badly—her columbine skirts—and Helen was not sorry to be called aside to render assistance. She was unutterably weary of Mr. Quentin and his monotonous compliments. His manner of protecting, and appropriating her, as if she belonged to him, and they had some secret bond of union, was simply maddening! As she tacked up Lizzie's rents, in a corner of the ante-room, Lizzie said suddenly,—
"I suppose you have heard all the fuss about Mr. Lisle? Mrs. Creery is bubbling over with the news. Don't pretend I told you, but she has heard all about him at last; very much at last," giggling.
"Yes?" interrogated her companion.