I asked Mrs. MacNairn later who the girl was, but she didn’t seem to recognize my description of her. Mr. Le Breton had gone away by that time, and so had the girl herself.
“The tall, very fair one in the misty, pale-gray dress,” I said. “She was near Mr. Le Breton when he was looking at the iris-bed. You were cutting some roses only a few yards away from her. That VERY fair girl?”
Mrs. MacNairn paused a moment and looked puzzled.
“Mildred Keith is fair,” she reflected, “but she was not there then. I don’t recall seeing a girl. I was cutting some buds for Mrs. Anstruther. I—” She paused again and turned toward her son, who was standing watching us. I saw their eyes meet in a rather arrested way.
“It was not Mildred Keith,” he said. “Miss Muircarrie is inquiring because this girl was one of those she calls the White People. She was not any one I had seen here before.”
There was a second’s silence before Mrs. MacNairn smilingly gave me one of her light, thrilling touches on my arm.
“Ah! I remember,” she said. “Hector told me about the White People. He rather fancied I might be one.”
I am afraid I rather stared at her as I slowly shook my head. You see she was almost one, but not quite.
“I was so busy with my roses that I did not notice who was standing near Mr. Le Breton,” she said. “Perhaps it was Anabel Mere. She is a more transparent sort of girl than Mildred, and she is more blond. And you don’t know her, Hector? I dare say it was she.”