“There,” she said, as Natalie hastily twisted up her hair and thrust a couple of shell pins in it, “you look a dream! a demure little dream. Natalie, be careful, won’t you?”
The girl gave Joyce a long look, and said softly, “Yes—for his sake.” Then she went slowly downstairs.
Bobsy Roberts was talking with Mrs. Faulkner as Natalie entered. He jumped up, and greeted the lovely girl with an impulsive, “So sorry to trouble you, but I must ask you a question or two, and I promise to cut it short.”
“What is it?” and Natalie gave him one of her confiding smiles.
Bobsy hesitated. How could he ask a fairy like that, a rude, blunt question. But it had to be done, and he said, “It’s—it’s about Mr. Stannard’s will. Did you ever see it?”
Clearly, Natalie was surprised. It seemed to be not the query she had looked for. But she was calm. After the slightest pause, she said slowly, very slowly, as if choosing her words, “No, Mr. Roberts, I have never seen Mr. Stannard’s will. Why should I see it?”
“You know he left you a large sum of money?”
“Of course I know that. Mr. Stiles informed me.”
“Did you not know of it before Mr. Stiles told you?”
Natalie glanced at Barry, who smiled at her.