“Denny,” said Fanny, “ask him to come in here. And you need not disturb my aunt at present. She is taking her nap.”
“Yes, Missy.” And Denny went off, shaking his head.
Fanny ran over to a glass and smoothed her hair, put a flower in it, and made an attempt to stiffen her figure until it looked as if incased in stays. But when Tay entered she immediately became as natural as the young female ever is in the presence of the young and marriageable male. Tay did not look in the best of tempers, but she thought him quite handsome enough to be the hero of a romance.
“Do sit down,” she said hospitably. “Aunt Maria will be in presently. Oh, do tell me how you got in. I mean, what can Aunt Maria have told Granny— Or hasn’t she told her? Perhaps I’d better take you out for a walk. Granny might be too horrid.”
“I fancy Mrs. Winstone has told your grandmother that she asked me for tea,” said Tay, with a slight access of color.
“But what?”
“Oh— Are not you too afraid of this—of your formidable grandmother?”
“Not a bit. I only pretend to be for the sake of peace. But, oh, do tell me how Aunt Maria had the courage to ask you here! I’m simply mad with curiosity. A young man in this house!”
Tay drew a long breath. This was an explanation he had not bargained for, and those immense eyes were disconcertingly young, and very handsome. “Well, you see—this is how it is: I came here, neglected business and a good many other things, to see Julia France, and I have no idea of wasting my time. I don’t like underhand methods. I’d rather fight in the open any time, but with women you almost never can. So let us call this strategy —”
“Yes! Yes!” cried Fanny. “But for heaven’s sake, what is it?”