The day had been overcast for some time and now a few big drops fell, by way of warning. Then it turned cool: then came a light drizzling rain, and, in the middle of this, Fanny Dover appeared, almost flying home.
Vizard went and tapped at Miss Maitland's door. She came out.
“Here's Miss Dover coming, but she is alone.”
The next moment Fanny bounced into the room, and started a little at the picture of the pair ready to receive her. She did not wait to be taken to task, but proceeded to avert censure by volubility and self-praise. “Aunt, I went down to the river, where I left them, and looked all along it, and they were not in sight. Then I went to the cathedral, because that seemed the next likeliest place. Oh, I have had such a race!”
“Why did you come back before you had found them?”
“Aunt, it was going to rain; and it is raining now, hard.”
“She does not mind that.”
“Zoe? Oh, she has got nothing on!”
“Bless me!” cried Vizard. “Godiva rediviva.”
“Now, Harrington, don't! Of course, I mean nothing to spoil; only her purple alpaca, and that is two years old. But my blue silk, I can't afford to ruin it. Nobody would give me another, I know.”