He looked about her feet.
"You mus' have drop' it on the stair," said grandmamma, discerning the stratagem, and glad to aid it.
Problem in tactics: To hunt the glove all the way up to the balcony and return before Hilary, if he was coming, could reach Flora's side. Irby set his teeth--he loathed problems--and sprang up the steps.
"No use," chanted Madame with enjoyment; "the other one is not coming."
But Flora remained benign while the old lady drew a little mocking sigh. "Ah," said the latter, "if the General would only stop changing his mind about his two nephews, what a lot of hard work that would save you!"
"It isn't hard!" cried Flora; so radiantly that passing strangers brightened back, "I love it!"
"It!" mocked the grandmother as the girl passed her into the carriage. "It!"
"You poor tired old thing!" sighed the compassionate beauty. "Never mind, dear; how the General may choose no longer gives me any anxiety."
"Oh, you lie!"
"No," softly laughed the girl, "not exactly. Don't collapse, love, you'll get your share of the loot yet. My choice shall fit the General's as this glove (drawing on the one Irby was still away in search of) fits this hand."