"Jove! Clarisse was right."
Miss Orpington is large in her notions of autumn costume, and Daisy shows her a vast number of "pretty things" which she would like to order, but is somewhat checked by the paternal presence, in itself a novelty in her negotiations with her milliner. But, deferring to the paternal presence, as to "Should she?" and "Did he think she might?" and receiving nothing but favourable replies, she gives her fancy scope, and makes such of the workwomen as were always retained think that the season had suddenly and capriciously recommenced.
What had induced the Colonel to accompany his daughter? He never had done so before, and on this occasion he says nothing, never looks at the things exhibited, or the patterns after which they are to be made. What does he look at? Miss Orpington knows, perhaps, when, following the earnest gaze of his eyes, she makes a little moue, and slightly shrugs her shoulders, taking no further notice until they are in the street; then she says:
"Do you think that girl pretty, papa?"
The Colonel is in an abstracted state, and pauses for a minute before he replies,
"What girl, Constance?"
"We have not seen so many that you need ask," says Miss Orpington, with a melancholy glance at the deserted streets; "the girl who attended to me just now, at Clarisse's."
"I was thinking of something else at the time, and really did not notice her particularly, my dear," says the Colonel, "but she appeared to me to be a very respectable young person."
Miss Orpington gives her little shoulder-shrug, and looks round curiously at her father; but he is staring straight before him, and they walk on without speaking further, until just as they are passing Limmer's, when he says, half to himself, "That fellow will do!" and then to her,
"I want to send a message to the club, Constance. If you'll walk quietly on, I'll overtake you in an instant. Hi! here!"