“Why, I believe the creature is actually coming over here!”
“She is,” assented Mrs. Lawrence. “I recognise her pink frock. She is returning our call—like Royalty—within the hour. Fly, fly, Ida, and tell the bearer ‘Darwaza-Bund!’”
But unfortunately Ida was too late—one moment too late. Miss Scarlett had already descended, had bustled up the steps, and screamed out:
“I say, I want to speak to you, Miss Dacre! I wish to see you alone!”
Miss Dacre drew herself up; her face and air stiffened.
“Please, please,” urged the caller, under her breath; “it is of the greatest importance.”
“Oh, very well, come into the dining-room,” said the other, with a somewhat ungracious air. What could this fearful person possibly have to say to her—alone! As soon as they had entered the room the visitor began:
“Mr. Lovett has returned. He is raging mad with me. I’ve made one of my usual awful blunders, and I’ve come over here post-haste to apologise to you.”
Miss Dacre, still standing, merely bowed her head like a sea-tossed iceberg.
“I got hold of the wrong end of the stick!” resumed the stranger, “and now I want to explain. You see—I’m Lovett’s brother—just dressed up, and, as he says—playing the fool!”