“I did not arrive in time for them. The secretary of Todbrook’s Home for Deaf and Dumb came to see me about a Christmas treat for them. For myself, I can imagine no treat that would appeal to incurables. But he has faith in turkey, and I think he said plum-pudding.”
“It must be a terrible thing to be afflicted with either defect. What else are you going to do for them?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure. I said I’d call to see him in the morning.”
“Oh! you should have a Christmas tree, and a cinematograph, and take them all to the Pantomime to see the transformation scenes,” said Rosalie.
And she sat up again, and her eyes were very big and bright, because the subject was especially interesting to her. The other three looked at her.
“Are you a philanthropist?” asked Mr. Barringcourt, with a vein of coldness running in his words, in direct opposition to her heat.
She laughed.
“No; but I was told you were,” and leant back in her seat, and evidently felt safe enough to betray no outward fear.
“I was speaking last night about your exertions on behalf of the deaf and dumb,” said Miss Crokerly, in explanation, recognising, without understanding it, the tone in each of their voices.
“You were naturally prepossessed in my favour then,” and he looked at Rosalie again, speaking in a voice not free from sarcasm.