“My dear, do you not think that we had better go into the drawing-room?”
“I beg your pardon, auntie,” she exclaimed with a start. “Of course.”
Sir Reginald accompanied the ladies, and spent a considerable time in looking over photographs and talking to Miss Saville, Alice having betaken herself to a distant arm-chair and Mary to the piano. After she had played for some time, she went over to Alice, and in an audible whisper said, as she stooped to arrange a tumbled chair-back:
“Come now, it is your turn; come and sing those two new songs you got last week.”
“No, not to-night, Molly,” she replied, shaking her head very decidedly. “Do not ask me, I could not sing a note!”
In the same way when Miss Saville challenged her to their usual game of backgammon, as at night the old lady’s eyes were too weak for working or reading.
“Not to-night, please, auntie,” she said plaintively, “I really feel too stupid.”
“If you will accept me instead, Miss Saville, I will play with pleasure; but I am afraid you will find me a most contemptible foe,” remarked Sir Reginald, as he arranged the board all wrong.
The old lady accepted his offer with the greatest alacrity, and they commenced to play without further delay.
Mary felt actually ashamed of Alice, who, at some distance from her relatives, lay back in her chair composedly knitting, pausing now and then to count the stitches, and then resuming her occupation as if her bread depended on it.