'It's the reaction after London,' she said with a smile, when Mrs. Rushmore asked if anything was the matter. 'I find I am more tired than I knew, now that it's all over.' [{81}]
Mrs. Rushmore was quite of the same opinion, and it was still early when she declared that she herself was sleepy and that Margaret had much better go to bed and get a good night's rest.
But when the Primadonna was sitting before the glass and her maid was brushing out her soft brown hair, she was not at all drowsy, and though her eyes looked steadily at their own reflection in the mirror, she was not aware that she saw anything.
'Potts,' she said suddenly, and stopped.
'Yes, ma'am?' answered the maid with meek interrogation, and without checking the regular movement of the big brush.
But Margaret said no more for several moments. She enjoyed the sensation of having her hair brushed; it made her understand exactly how a cat feels when some one strokes its back steadily, and she could almost have purred with pleasure as she held her handsome head back and moved it a little in real enjoyment under each soft stroke.
'Potts,' she began again at last, 'you are not very imaginative, are you?'
'No, ma'am,' the maid answered, because it seemed to be expected of her, though she had never thought of the matter.
'Do you think you could possibly be mistaken about a voice, if you didn't see the person who was speaking?'
'In what way, ma'am?'