"Oh, I should like to!" Salome cried, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Then, will you manage to be at Greystone by five o'clock?"
"Yes, miss, if all's well. Oh, please thank Mrs. Fowler for asking me!"
"Mother wants to hear you sing again. She has taken quite a fancy to you, and I am so glad."
"I think your mother is the prettiest, sweetest lady I ever saw," the lame girl said earnestly. "How dearly you must love her, Miss Margaret."
"Yes," Margaret answered soberly, "but I do not think she cares for me much. Gerald is her favourite, you know. Oh, I'm not jealous of him, but I can't help seeing that though he teases and worries her, and I do all I can to please her, she loves him much better than she has ever loved me."
Salome was surprised, and pained by the look of sadness on her companion's face.
"Perhaps your mother shows her affection more to Master Gerald because he's so much younger than you," she suggested. "I cannot believe she loves him better really."
Margaret made no reply to this, but by-and-by she said, "We have had several fusses at home these last few days. Did you hear that father dismissed one of the men-servants for bringing beer into the stable?"
"Yes, I heard about it. I think Mr. Fowler was quite right," Salome declared decidedly.