"Oh, Miss Hartill! Oh, Miss Hartill! You?"
"Well, are you pleased to see me?"
"Please, won't you sit down?" Louise, between delight and embarrassment, did curious things with the big arm-chair. "I can't believe it's you. And on Christmas Day! Won't you please sit down? Is the room too warm for you? Will you take off your furs? Would you like some tea? I'll make up the fire—it's cold in here. Will you take this chair? Oh, Miss Hartill! It's like the Queen calling on one. I don't know what to do." She looked up at Clare, blushing. Her pleasure and excitement were pretty enough.
Clare laughed.
"I'll tell you what to do. Run and put on your coat and hat. Would you like to come and spend the rest of the day with me?"
"With you?" Louise's eyes opened. "But it's Christmas Day?"
"Well?"
"I shan't be in the way?"
"I don't think so," said Clare coolly. "I'll send you home if you are."
She twinkled, but Louise was serious.