"Yes, I dare say. Well, I used to be busy once myself. Here's lovely weather for the first of April. Quite a treat to be out of doors. Now, don't make an April fool of your poor old Miss Verney by forgetting to come this afternoon. Who's the friend you are anxious to bring?"
"Mr. Hazlewood. He's living at Plashers Mead, you know."
"Dear me, a gentleman? Then he won't enjoy coming to see me."
"But he will, Miss Verney, because he writes poetry, and you know you told me once that you used to write poetry."
"Ah, well, dear me, that's a secret I should never have let out. Well, good-by, my dear, and pray don't forget to come, for I shall be having cakes, you know."
Miss Verney, whose unhappy love-affair in a dim past had been Pauline's cherished secret since the afternoon of her seventeenth birthday, bowed with much dignity; and Pauline, lest she should offend her again, had to turn round several times to smile and wave farewells before Miss Verney disappeared into the confectioner's shop.
When she got home Pauline asked her mother if she thought it mattered taking Guy to tea with Miss Verney.
"Because, of course, she's sure to guess that we're engaged."
"But, my dear child, you're not really engaged, at least not publicly. You must remember that."
"But I could tell Miss Verney as a great secret. And I know she won't tell any one because once she told me a great secret about herself. Besides, she's gone to buy cakes for tea, and if I don't take Guy she'll be so dreadfully disappointed."