I watch her dreamily, as with a business-like air she drags the light garden-ladder forward, and, mounting, commences to clip my very choicest blossoms for her own secret purposes.
One by one they fall into her basket. Has she no conscience? Or has she forgotten it is already October, and the flowers grow scarce? I confess to some faint indignation as I regard her, and have almost decided on rousing to remonstrate with her in person, when a firm but hasty footstep upon the gravel outside excites my curiosity.
A moment later Lord Chandos pushes open the door of the conservatory, and, entering, stops short, his gaze fixed upon Miss Beatoun.
As for Bebe, between looking suddenly round and surprise at his unexpected presence there, she loses all idea of balance, and is in the act of coming with undue hurry to the ground, when Lord Chandos, stepping quickly forward, catches her and lifts her lightly down. Perhaps he is a trifle longer in the performance of this deed than is strictly necessary.
"Oh! how could you frighten one so?" exclaims Bebe, coloring, and speaking ungratefully, as it seems to me, considering he has just saved her from a heavy fall. "I thought you were out shooting with the others."
"So I was; but—I forgot something, and had to return for it."
"What did you forget?—your pipe?"
"No, my gun," replies he, in the most barefaced fashion possible.
"Oh! cries Miss Beatoun lengthily, and then they both laugh.
"Why don't you admit at once you had no intention of shooting to-day? It would have been much honester."