“And may I ask what you wear, my dear? Is your dress ordered?”
“O yes, I had it made at Paris. It is white satin, with lilies—a kind of lily one gets in Algiers.” And she expatiated on the fashion till Mrs. Gould said—
“Well, my love, I hope you will enjoy yourself at the Honourable Mrs. Evelyn’s. What is the address, in case I should have occasion to write?”
“I shall have no time for doing commissions.”
“That was not my meaning,” was the gentle answer; “only if there be anything you ought to be informed of—”
“They would write to me from home. Why, what do you mean?” asked the girl, her attention gained at last.
“Did it never strike you why you are sent up alone?”
“Only that Mrs. Brownlow is so cut up about Janet.”
“Ah! youth is so sweetly unconscious. It is well that there are those who are bound to watch for your interests, my dear.”
“I can’t think what you mean.”