She shot a knife and fork into Ross's lap, mercifully they were clean or there would have been ructions, then she upset a glass of water and got the hiccoughs, and later tripped over the footstool and sent the cheese straws flying like leaves before an autumn gale.
When 'My 'Ilda' brought the coffee into the hall she stepped on the kitten's tail, and as that indignant fluffy ball spat at her, she remarked,—
'My! ain't Fitzbattleaxe got a temper, I don't think. Your face is red, Mrs Ellsley; did I do it all right at dinner?'
As I went to my room to fetch a book I heard her fall down the back stairs with a pail. It was the end of an imperfect meal. Ross says I ought to start a nursing home for sergeant-majors suffering from depression—they'd be cured in a week, and then he remarked,—
'I wonder if Sam's got a decent supper. I must go and see.'
When he came down again he tossed a little box into my lap and said,—
'Why didn't you tell me that you wanted a new necklace? I'd have loved to give you one.'
'What do you mean, Ross?'
'Michael wrote to me to-day that you had said you wanted a "new necklace for yourself" directly the cave was finished, and that I was to buy you one.'
Oh, isn't he absurd and dear? So I opened the box, and inside there were two to choose from. So I chose the one of very perfect pearls, and then for some extraordinary reason of his own Ross kissed me and said,—