“There is Cousin Aubrey,” said Lettice.
Dorothy answered by a nod. “You admire your cousin?”
“Yes, I think he looks very well,” replied Lettice, in her simplicity.
Dorothy bit her lip again. “He is not so well-favoured as Mr Jeremy Stone,” said she, “though he hath the better name, and comes of an elder line by much.”
By this time Aubrey had come up. “Ah, Lettice!” said he, kissing her. “Mrs Dorothy, your most obedient, humble servant.”
“Are you?” responded she.
“Surely I am. Lay your commands on me.”
“Then bring Mr Stone to speak with me.”
Aubrey gave a little shrug of his shoulders, a laugh, and turned away as if to seek Mr Stone: while Dorothy, the moment his back was turned, put her finger on her lip, and slipped out of sight behind a screen, with her black eyes full of mischievous fun.
“Why, my dear,” said a voice beside Lettice, “is none with you? I thought I saw Doll by your side but now.”