“Well, I must go,” she said. “And if you won’t promise me never to blame yourself, I sha’n’t forgive you. So promise.”
“I will try,” said Miss Clifford.
Jeannie nodded and smiled at her, and went quickly down the stairs after Miss Fortescue.
CHAPTER IX
The Aveshams always had coffee, when it was fine, under the mulberry-tree, the fruits of which were destined to make the g—n, as Mrs. Collingwood would have preferred to express it. During lunch on this particular day Miss Fortescue had, in deference to Jeannie’s wish, kept silence about the picture, though when the exhibition was mentioned she had cast her eyes up to the ceiling with a gesture of passionate despair. Arthur had mentioned casually that Jack Collingwood had telegraphed to him to say that he would come to them next day for the Sunday, at which news Jeannie had laughed in a loud and meaningless manner, and Miss Fortescue’s eyes had been so glued to the ceiling that it seemed doubtful if she would ever detach them.
“It is such good manners to telegraph,” said Arthur, “much more business-like. Don’t you think so, Aunt Em?”
“Extraordinary lapses—” began Miss Fortescue.
“Aunt Em,” said Jeannie, “you said you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t what?” asked Arthur.
“Nothing. I’m glad he is coming, Arthur; I’ve got several things to say after lunch. Wroxton is waking up.”