“Because if so, my sister, Lady Barre, will call upon you at once. Will you come up to tea to-morrow? I’ll send the carriage for you?”
Mary became scarlet. “Thank you ma’am, no.”
“No?” she repeated, in a tone of angry incredulity.
“You see,” said Miss Usher, coming to the rescue, “Mary is a little strange as yet, and is very shy and awkward.”
“I suppose it’s only natural”—appeased. “Well, you won’t forget your old friends, will you, my dear?”—rising to go.
“No, Mrs. Doran”—and she looked her in the face—“I won’t forget my old—friends.”
Mrs. Doran returned the gaze with observant scrutiny—she read in Mary’s eyes, hostility and dislike. Evidently there was nothing to be made out of her; and presently she went rustling downstairs.
As the carriage rolled off, the girl ran to the window and said: “To think of me! Offered a seat in that! I’d as soon have expected to be asked to take a seat on a throne. Well, there goes the last of Mrs. Doran, please God!”
* * * * *