"Indeed, yes, sir. 'Tis very sad."
Miss Betty chuckled, and unrolled a packet of silks which she threw into her niece's lap.
"Will you have the goodness to sort those for me, love?" she asked, taking out her embroidery.
"Pray allow me to assist!" pleaded John.
Diana rose and planted her cushion down beside his chair. She then knelt down upon it and emptied the multi-coloured strands on to his knee.
"Very well! You must be very careful to separate the different pinks, though. See, we will have the rose here, the salmon here, the deeper rose here, the pale pink over there, and the reds—there is no more room—we will put the reds in this paper."
"Certainly," agreed Carstares. "Are we to leave the other colours until the pinks are sorted?"
She nodded and bent her head over the silks.
"Is Sir Miles coming this afternoon, Mr. Carr?"
"Why yes, Miss Betty—now you mention it, I remember that he is. Miss Beauleigh, I defy you to put that one on the rose pile; 'tis a shade too deep."