“But I don’t please. I am under orders, Anania, and I can’t stop now.”
“At least you’ll tell me what’s in the fardel!” cried Anania, as Stephen turned to go on his way without loosing his hold of the parcel.
“A gown which the Lady has given to Derette,” said Stephen mischievously, “and she sent commands that I was to escort her home with it.”
“A gown!—the Lady!—Derette!” screamed Anania. “Not one of her own?—why on earth should she give Derette a gown?”
“That’s the Lady’s business, not mine.”
“Yes, one of her own,” said Derette proudly.
“But what on earth for? She hasn’t given me a gown, and I am sure I want it more than that child—and deserve it, too.”
“Perhaps you haven’t asked her,” suggested Derette, trotting after Stephen, who was already half-way across the bridge.
“Asked her! I should hope not, indeed—I know my place, if you don’t. You never mean to say you asked her?”
“I can’t stop to talk, Cousin Anania.”