“Oh, my dear, how cruel! Why, he’s the one who adored you so last night. He’s my cousin.”
Rosaleen recollected the young man like a sprightly devil, with the curly hair and the outstanding ears.
“I’d better tidy up the place then,” she said. “It’s awful.”
“I’ll treat us all to cakes for tea,” said Dodo. “If you’ll get them, Rosaleen?”
“And there are two dead mice in the trap,” said Enid. “Better take them out!”
Rosaleen protested; this was an intolerable task. But Dodo and Enid assured her that the mice would stay there until she removed them.
“And every day it’ll be worse,” said Enid.
So Rosaleen was obliged to drop the little victims into an empty cracker box and throw them out of the window at the back of the hall. She fetched the cakes and borrowed an extra cup from Miss Gosorkus. Then she sat down listlessly. Her work was all in Lawrence’s studio, and she had nothing to do.
II
Ambrose Matthews was, in fact, a very welcome distraction. He came that afternoon, and he was so nicely entertained that he returned again and again, nearly every day. Enid said she didn’t mind as long as he waited until five o’clock, because then the light wasn’t any good. Miss Mell was not disturbed by talking, or by walking, or by singing or by dancing while she worked, and Rosaleen, it must be confessed, cared very little whether she worked at all, or not.