Mrs. Poynsett laughed, but anxiously. “My dear, if you can make peace, it will be a family blessing.”
“I! I’ll eat any dirt in the world, and make Tom eat it too, rather than you should be vexed, or make discord in the house,” cried Rosamond, kissing her, and speeding away to Cecil’s door.
It was Raymond who opened it, looking perturbed and heated, but a good deal amazed at seeing his intended scapegoat coming thus boldly to present herself.
“Let me in,” she breathlessly said. “I am come to tell Cecil how sorry I am she was so much vexed; I really did not know it before.”
“I am ready to accept any proper apology that is offered me,” said Cecil, with cold dignity; “but I cannot understand your profession that you did not know I was vexed. You could have intended nothing else.”
“But, Cecil, you misunderstood—” began Rosamond.
“I never misunderstand—”
“No human creature can say that!” interposed Raymond, immensely thankful to Rosamond—whatever her offence—for her overtures, and anxious they should be accepted.
“I could not,” continued Cecil, “misunderstand the impertinent insults offered to my friends and to myself; though if Lady Rosamond is willing to acknowledge the impropriety I will overlook it.”
Raymond’s face and neck crimsoned, but Raymond’s presence helped her to rein in her temper; and she thought of Julius, and refrained from more than a “Very well. It was meant as a harmless joke, and—and if you—you did not take it so, I am very sorry.”