"Oh, look what a lovely, lovely face the workman made me; do look, I say! Is it wery kind of him to make me such a lovely thing?"
Gwynneth had been dragged to where the new head stood mounted upon a misfit; and Carlton had been obliged to rise. But his eyes had not risen from the child.
"Is it kind of him, I tell you?" persisted Georgie.
"Very kind," said Gwynneth, "indeed."
And civility compelled Carlton to look up at last.
"It was only to pass the time," he said. "I was obliged to bring him in out of the rain."
"It was so good of you," murmured Gwynneth. "But it was not good of Georgie to run away as soon as my back was turned!"
Georgie paid no heed to this reproach; he was busy playing with the uncouth head.
"Oh, don't say that," said Carlton, quickly; "I don't get so many visitors! Are you the little chap's governess?" he added, yet more quickly, to undo the visible effects of his words.
"No, I'm—from the hall, you know."