"Oh! they are common enough in England, now," said Aveline. "But that is a good border, the pattern is Arabesque. You wear them, don't you? Let me look at yours."
Mr. Haveloc produced his handkerchief with a violet edge.
"How dare you!" said Aveline playfully, "It is much finer than mine. What a coxcomb."
"Change then," said Mr. Haveloc.
Aveline seized his handkerchief with all the eagerness of a child, and threw him hers.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick looked with rather a grave smile at Aveline; but she laughed and squeezed it behind the cushion at the back of her chair, as if to make sure of her new possession.
"You will repent your bargain, but you shall not have it back," said Aveline.
"Not at all," said he. "I have got the handsome border, and for the fineness I know nothing about it."
"It is just dinner time," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, "I hope, my dear Aveline, you are ready for it."
"Quite hungry, mamma. Will you run and fetch Hakon Jarl, Mr. Haveloc? I hear Mark coming with his plate of bread."