“It is Mr. Noel de Crespigny,” she said, amazed. “He is not— O, Diana, do you really think him”—
“Hee-haw!” I broke in, with a little passion of laughter; and then fury overcame me.
“How dared she,” I stormed, “how dared she tell him that lie about me?”
“What lie?” said poor Patty.
“Why, to claim me to her worship of a golden ass,” I cried.
“It was a calf,” said my friend, bewildered.
I screamed with laughter.
“O, don’t!” Patty implored. “It really was, Diana.”
“You dear!” I gasped. “I daresay it was. But he was so badly made, I couldn’t tell.”
She followed me upstairs, utterly bewildered. On the landing above we encountered a strange sight. The picture—the picture—was already on its way down from the attics. A groom and maid bore it, and the oddest creature stood above, superintending its resurrection.