"It'll be all right," he said in a cringing tone. "You'll only make things worse by interfering. It's not your business. If Nellie and I like to have a quarrel, we can make it up our own way. We don't——"
"If you think you can make me believe a story like that, you are very much mistaken," she interrupted quickly. "I heard quite enough——"
"You didn't hear everything," he interposed quickly; for an idea came to him—if Mrs. Dickson had to hear the tale she should hear it from him, with certain little embellishments and figurative allusions, which would effectually destroy any chance Ailleen might have of making capital out of the episode.
"I heard quite enough," she answered.
"No, you didn't," he retorted, growing desperate lest his mother, hearing their voices, should suddenly come out on to the verandah and learn what they were talking about before he had time to put his side of the story to her. "If you had you would have known I tried and tried to get Nellie to come in so that I could tell the old woman about it, only she wouldn't, and that's why we quarrelled. Now I don't care, so I'll tell the old woman all about it. There'll be a bigger row with Nellie when she comes to know, but I don't care. It'll be your doing, not mine."
He didn't give her time to answer, but turned away and left her, proceeding at once to Mrs. Dickson and telling her—his story.
When, some time afterwards, the blind woman came out to the verandah, Ailleen began to carry out her intention.
"Mrs. Dickson, I'm going to tell you something," she began. "I hope it won't seem——"
"Is it about Nellie Murray?" the blind woman asked, with a smile on her face.
"Yes," Ailleen answered. "About Nellie Murray and——"