“Under the eyes of your horse and man.”
“Are you all at home? And has Allen finished his novel?”
Babie laughed, and said—
“Poor Ali! You see there comes a fresh blight whenever it begins to bud.”
“What has that wretched girl been doing now?”
“Oh, don’t you know? The yacht had to be overhauled, so they went to Florence instead, and have been wandering about in all the resorts of rather shady people, where Lisette can cut a figure. Mr. Wakefield is terribly afraid that even poor Mr. Gould himself is taking to gambling for want of something to do. There are always reports coming of Elfie taking up with some count or baron. It was a Russian prince last time, and then Ali goes down into the very lowest depths, and can’t do anything but smoke. You know that’s good for blighted beings. I cure my plants by putting them into his room surreptitiously.”
“You are a hard-hearted little mortal, Babie. Ah, there’s the bell!”
Mrs. Brownlow came in with the two Johns, who had joined her just as she had finished talking to the poor woman; Jock carried off his friend to dress, and Babie, after finishing her arrangements and making the most of every fragment of flower or leaf, repaired with a selection of delicate sprays, to the room where Esther, having put her little sister to bed, was dressing for dinner. She was eager to tell of her alarm at the invasion, and of Captain Evelyn’s good nature when she had expected him to be proud and disagreeable.
“He wanted to be,” said Babie, “but honest nature was too strong for him.”
“Johnny was so angry at the way he treated Jock.”