‘That’s exactly what I can’t tell. He took her out to the fountain; she was quite like a dead thing. Water wouldn’t make her come to, and I ran for some salts; I wouldn’t call anybody, for it was too romantic a condition to have Owen discovered in, with a fainting maiden in his arms. Such a
rummage as I had. My own things are all jumbled up, I don’t know how, and Rashe keeps nothing bigger than globules, only fit for fainting lady-birds, so I went to Lolly’s, but her bottles have all gold heads, and are full of uncanny-looking compounds, and I made a raid at last on Sweet Honey’s rational old dressing-case, poked out her keys from her pocket, and got in; wasting interminable time. Well, when I got back to my fainting damsel, non est inventus.’
‘Inventa,’ murmured the spirit of Miss Fennimore within Phœbe. ‘But what? had she got well?’
‘So I suppose. Gone off to the servants’ rooms, no doubt; as there is no White Lady in the fountain to spirit them both away. What, haven’t you done that, yet?’
‘Oh! Lucy, stand still, please, or you’ll get another hook in.’
‘Give me the scissors; I know I could do it quicker. Never mind the curtain, I say; nobody will care.’
She put up her hand, and shook head and feet to the entanglement of a third hook; but Phœbe, decided damsel that she was, used her superior height to keep her mastery, held up the scissors, pressed the fidgety shoulder into quiescence, and kept her down while she extricated her, without fatal detriment to the satin, though with scanty thanks, for the liberation was no sooner accomplished than the sprite was off, throwing out a word about Rashe wanting her.
Phœbe emerged to find that she had not been missed, and presently the concert was over, and tea coming round, there was a change of places. Robert came towards her. ‘I am going,’ he said.
‘Oh! Robert, when dancing would be one chance?’
‘She does not mean to give me that chance; I would not ask it while she is in that dress. It is answer sufficient. Good night, Phœbe; enjoy yourself.’