Meantime, the others have been eagerly discussing their plans. Sir George Ashurst has obtained a promise from Dora to take the seat beside him on his dog-cart. Harriet has decided on the open carriage, and declares her intention of calling and taking up mamma. Lord Chandos alone has had no part in the discussion.
Just then the door opens to admit Bebe, fresh and gay as usual. Positively we have all forgotten Bebe.
"Late—late—so late!" says she, laughing. "Yes, Marmaduke, I know it is actually shocking. Don't say a word, dear; your face is a volume in itself. Good-morning, every body. Phyllis you don't look formidable. I shall have my chair near you."
The men rise and somebody gets her a seat.
"Bebe, we forgot you," cry I, contritely. "Where shall we put you now?"
"Put me?" says Babe, regarding her chair. "Why, here, I suppose."
"No, no; about our drive to the Wishing Well, I mean we have just been arranging everything, and somehow you got left out."
"I have still two seats at the back of my trap." says Ashurst; "will you accept one, Miss Beatoun? Ami Chandos can have the other."
The faintest possible tinge of color rises to Bebe's cheek.
"A back seat! Oh, Sir George, is that all you can offer me? I was never so insulted in my life. It is positively unkind. Marmaduke, why did not you look after my interests in my absence?"