"Ah! that's just it"—she wagged her head solemnly—"nobody knows. There is something very queer about her. She is a protégée of Uncle Barton's of course, and I shouldn't be the least surprised to hear that he had picked her up on one of those excursions amongst the criminals in London, he's so fond of!"
"Julia, you shouldn't say that. Miss Crane is, I consider, a most charming young lady."
"Red hair—I'm glad you think that charming, John!"
"Are you speaking of Miss Crane?" said Gerald, rising from his seat by Hilda. "She's a plucky woman that—did you hear how she saved Dicky's life?"
"Dicky told me what happened," replied Mrs. Darrow sharply. "I rather think it was you, Gerald, who saved both her and my darling child."
"Oh, nonsense—I came in at the tag end," and Gerald related the whole adventure, glorifying Miriam's bravery in a manner which made Hilda long to box his ears. But the only outward and visible indication of these turbulent sensations within her breast was as usual the sweetest of sweet smiles.
Mrs. Darrow, having nothing to lose, was less careful.
"Bravery!—fudge!" she said politely. "I believe the whole thing was acting."
"I don't agree with you," said Gerald drily. "The bull certainly was acting, though hardly in the sense you mean."
"Then if it wasn't, she certainly isn't fit to be entrusted with Dicky's life. If I had lost my boy!—just think of it! I should have died. He is my life, my sole comfort on this earth—the image of my darling departed," &c., &c.——