“You are not cross, are you, Julie? You don’t think I did wrong to say he might come?”
“Of course not, you baby, I think you did perfectly right. Now go and make me a cup of tea if the kettle has not boiled dry. We need a brace after all this excitement.”
Hester busied herself with the tea things and Julie sat staring at her, wrapt in thought. If Hester was conscious of this preoccupation she gave no sign, but hummed a gay tune and talked to Peter Snooks, who came and sat pressed close to her knees in true dog fashion.
“Do you know, Peter Snooks,” she said speculatively, “we have one very important feature in common—our noses.” At this he thrust his up in her lap. “Yes,” she continued, patting him, “we have. Yours denotes your state of health—mine the arrival of a stranger within our gates. A certain proud and haughty person jeers at mine but you know how it is, don’t you, old man?”
The dog pawed her lap by way of showing that he understood perfectly and with his big eloquent eyes fixed on the sugar bowl, thrust out his tongue suggestively.
“What! is that sensitive too! Oh! you scalawag!” and she tossed him a lump of sugar.
This conversation had stolen in through Julie’s reverie and she pulled up her chair and leaned over to her sister as she took her cup of tea.
“I dare say I did jeer at that saucy nose of yours,” she began, “but in token of my future awe and respect I am going to kiss it now,” suiting the action to the words. “It may be a precaution against its owner’s kissing me as an alternative in the next emergency! Peter Snooks, I call upon you to witness that I hereto set my seal,” with another kiss, “having at this moment solemnly declared that I consider the aforesaid feature infallible.”
CHAPTER XV
Radnor society was all agog over the second appearance of Monsieur Grémond, and no sooner was his coming made known than Renshawe was fairly deluged with invitations for his guest.