‘Such a young lady’s tender-hearted notion,’ said Reginald.
‘Who ever heard of a man of science managing in such a ridiculous way?’
‘Man of science!’ exclaimed Lily, ‘when he will have forgotten by next Christmas that insects ever existed.’
It was not convenient to hear this speech, so Maurice turned an empty flower-pot over his prisoner, and left it in Jane’s care while he went to fetch the means of destruction, probably choosing the lawn for the place of execution, in order to show his contempt for his sisters.
‘Fair damsel in boddice blue,’ said Lily, peeping in at the hole at the top of the flower-pot, ‘I wish I could avert your melancholy fate. I am very sorry for you, but I cannot help it.’
‘You might help it now, at any rate,’ muttered Claude.
‘No,’ said Lily, ‘I know Monsieur Maurice too well to arouse his wrath so justly. If you choose to release the pretty creature, I shall be charmed.’
‘You forget that I am in charge,’ said Jane.
‘There is a carriage coming to the front gate,’ cried Ada. ‘Emily, may I go into the drawing-room? Oh, Jenny, will you undo my brown holland apron?’
‘That is right, little mincing Miss,’ said Reginald, with a low bow; ‘how fine we are to-day.’