The conversation was entirely of the wonders and beauties of Headland House, until at last, Mrs Blackwood said, “Isn’t that child gone a long while? I could have found half a dozen cameras by this time!”
“She is a long time,” Frederick Varian said, frowning; “I was just thinking that myself. I think I’ll go after her.”
“No, don’t,” said his wife, nervously, “you’ll get into an argument with her, and never get back! Let her alone,—she’ll be here in a minute.”
But the minutes went by, and Betty didn’t reappear in the open doorway.
“I know what she’s up to,” and Frederick Varian shook his head, in annoyance.
Whereupon Mrs Frederick began to cry.
“Now, Fred, stop,” she said; “Herbert, you go up to the house and tell Betty to come along. If she can’t find her camera, tell her to come without it. I wish we had a megaphone so we could call her. Go on, Herbert.”
“Stay where you are, Herbert,” said his brother. “I shall go. It’s all right, Minna, I won’t tease the child,—I promise you. It’s all right, dear.”
He kissed his wife lightly on the brow, and started off at a swinging pace up the rocky flight of steps.
“I’ll fetch her,” he called back, as he proceeded beyond hearing distance. “Chirk up, Minna, Janet; tell her I shan’t abuse Betty.”