“Dicky Wood.”
“Dicky Wood!” and the three ladies echoed it in much astonishment. “Why, he is quite well!” “We saw him only the other day!” they cried.
Nouna nodded sagaciously.
“Of course,” she said, glancing round with a patronising sweep of the eyes at the two younger ladies, both of whom were considerably older than she, “your daughters cannot know so well as I do; I am a married woman, the boys come and talk to me; but I know that he is not well at all, and if he does not go away soon he will go into a decline, I believe.” She ended with such tragic solemnity that all the girls’ inclination to laugh at her ingenuousness died suddenly away.
Lady Millard took off Nouna’s cap, smoothed her hair, and kissed her as if she had been one of her own daughters. She felt a strong sympathy for this little creature who dared to be impulsive and unconventional and natural in a country which to her had been full of iron bonds of strait-laced custom.
“I will see if it can be managed, dear,” she said kindly. “Of course I can’t promise till I’ve seen Sir Henry.”
Lord Florencecourt’s harsh voice rasped their ears just as the younger lady was heartily returning the kiss of the elder.
“And pray what does Mrs. Lauriston’s husband say?”
Nouna’s head sprang back with great spirit.
“Mrs. Lauriston’s husband has only to say yes to whatever Mrs. Lauriston wishes, or he would be no husband for me,” she said decidedly.