‘Is thy servant a slave? I want it as a memento of the only occasion on record on which I was called a “kind, kind man,” and a “good” and an “honest” one besides. You did call me all that, Susan. And yet, now—’
Heaven alone knows what would have been the end of all this, but for the providential appearance of Miss Barry and Betty upon the scene.
‘My dear Susan, have you heard? But, of course, Mr. Crosby has told you. Good gracious! what is the matter with your head, child?’
And, indeed, Susan’s hair has again found freedom, and is flowing down her back in happy, shining waves.
‘I have just washed it,’ says Susan shamefacedly.
‘An admirable deed,’ says Miss Barry, who is in too great a state of delight to lecture with her usual fluency, and who, indeed, feels inclined to be lenient. ‘But you should not come into publicity, my dear child, until it is dry and carefully dressed again. However’—beaming upon Crosby, who begins to quite like her—‘youth will be youth, you know. And what do you think, Susan? There is a man down from the best photographer’s in Dublin—from Chancellor’s, I believe. And I am thinking of having our pictures taken, if only to send some copies to your uncle in Australia—my brother, you know, my dear. He will be so pleased to get them; and, really, it is a grand opportunity. Of course, you, Mr. Crosby, have had yours taken in every quarter of the globe, but we country mice seldom get the chance of seeing ourselves as others see us.’
‘I haven’t been photographed for quite ten years,’ says Crosby, ‘and I feel now as if it were my duty to sit again. Miss Barry, if you are going to be photographed to-day, will you take me under your wing?’
‘I shall be pleased indeed,’ says Miss Barry, with much dignity.
‘Won’t it be fun!’ cries Betty, clapping her hands.
‘And the hour?’ asks Crosby.