He was quick enough where his interests were concerned. He caught a swift upbraiding glance that flashed from Lucia's eyes to those of Mrs. Laniston, who looked embarrassed.
"Why, you are not complimentary," cried Ruth. "Don't you see we are already bedizened to the best of our ability."
"Won't you need your hats?"
Having worn them when they were so little appropriate, surely, he thought, they would not sally forth without them to ride in that queer, uplifted procession of passengers in the Ferris Wheel, as if they had dressed for the occasion.
"No, indeed, we can't wear them," cried Ruth. "They are not suited for lace; we are wearing lace, and they are embroidered."
She looked at her mother with such arch audacity that Mrs. Laniston could scarcely refrain from giving her a box on the ear.
"I was in hopes they had forgotten that miserable Ferris Wheel," said Mrs. Laniston, turning toward Jardine.
"Oh, why?" he exclaimed disingenuously. "Let them exhaust the attractions of the fair."
"Well, since you will kindly look after them," Mrs. Laniston's craft matched his own, "I have no inclination, myself, for the 'wild wheel, that lowers the proud.'"
"Oh, that is Fortune's wheel; this is Ferris's wheel—altogether a different make; warranted no vicissitudes," cried Lucia, all her gay self again, and Jardine drew a breath of relief, for he felt that he had made a very narrow escape of encountering her resentment.